“No. Thank goodness. My move here might have actually been what spurred the breakup, actually.”
“Wrong. The move happened because you needed a good orgasm that wasn’t brought on by your own hand or a toy.”
I snort out a laugh, spitting and sputtering all over. Some beer dribbles down my chin. I’m such a mess.
“You’re a mess,” he says, teasingly. I look up to see his bright white teeth gleaming at me from his bright smile and his dark eyes twinkling. “Wanna play darts?”
“You think it’s a good idea to throw sharp pointed objects right now?”
“They’re the ones with the magnets on the ends.”
“They make that sort of thing?”
“Apparently. Good thing, too. Come on. Let’s burn off some of this food.”
I look around the room to see how busy it is in the bar. Admittedly, I’m not an overly self-confident person and often struggle with not allowing myself to enjoy life because I don’t want to embarrass myself or the people I’m with. Sometime during my life, I got it in my head that I could only do something if I was perfect at it.
Harry stands up and extends his hand down to me. “Come on, Sally. Let’s go play some darts. Imagine the board is your ex’s face.” Then, as if he could read my mind earlier, he adds, “It’ll be fun. Who cares who’s watching?”
Without worrying a second more, I place my hand in his and stand up, dropping my napkin on the table, but not leaving my beer behind. He might not care who’s watching, but a little liquid courage might help me get there, too.
“Fine,” I grumble but am not really disgruntled at all. “But first, I need to pee.”
He chuckles. “Sounds good. You realize now you’ll have to keep going all night, though, right?”
“That reminds me of high school field parties when my friends and I would try not to break the seal.”
He barks out a laugh. “Break the seal? That’s a term I haven’t heard since high school.”
I nod, a little embarrassed that I just said that but also not caring. Now that I’m standing up, I realize that I’m drunkity-drunk-drunk-drunk. I stumble a bit, tripping over absolutely nothing but my own two feet and he catches me by the elbow.
I steady myself by planting my feet on the floor, not moving a step forward. “You good?”
Nodding, I look up at his handsome face. He really is good looking. I can’t imagine a woman not wanting to look at him for the rest of her life.
“She must have been blind, right?”
“Huh?”
“If she didn’t want to look at me the rest of her life?”
The look on my face must be one of pure horror realizing I said that out loud. Of course I did. I’m the biggest walking cliché apparently. I just thought something in my head and said it out loud like a goober.
“I can’t believe I said that.”
He shrugs and moves to the dart board, grabbing a handful of magnetic darts in his hand. He spins back around and moves to stand in front of me. “It’s okay. If it would make you feel better,” he lifts one of my hands in his and places three darts in my open palm, “I’ll just tell you right now that I think your ex-boyfriend is a total dumbass for letting you go as well. I’d be pretty damn fortunate to look at your face the rest of my life.”
My heart beats extra fast and I suck in a breath. “Well, that’s… really nice.”
He shrugs again and he gestures for me to go first. “It’s true.”
“I have to pee first, remember?”
“Oh, shit, that’s right. I’ll be here. Think you can make it there without face-planting?”
“Let’s hope,” I mumble.
I do my business quickly and wash my hands, stopping at the bar to grab a couple Cokes. When I join Harry, I hand him his drink. “This is only Coke. No booze. Maybe you can handle more but I think I’m done.”
“Ha! I’d say I’ve had enough, too. Though another beer does sound good.”
“So have one. I’m not going to tell you what to do.” I wink at him and he chuckles, shaking his head.
“You’re up first, Sally.”
Because Sally isn’t even close to my name, I don’t realize he’s talking to me. Instead, I look around the room for Sally. It takes me a few seconds to realize he was talking to me, which is embarrassing but I’m positive he knows that Sally isn’t my name. Just like I know Harry isn’t his. Wouldn’t that be something, though? If two random people met at a bar after our significant others rejected us and our actual names were Harry and Sally? Just like in the movie?
“Right. That’s me. Sally. That’s my name.”
“Yup. And I’m Harry.”
I giggle which turns to a snort and that actually makes sense because I’ve just been on a roll embarrassing myself tonight.
“Alright, I think it’s good you switched to soda.”
I wrinkle my nose at him. “Ya think?” I ask sarcastically, tossing a dart at the board and somehow, by the grace of God, hitting it. Not in the center, but still… not bad for my first time.
“I mean, I wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do or anything,” he says, mocking me.
“Just throw a dart, hot shot.”
“Hot shot, huh? I like it. Nicknames already. Or is that called a term of endearment?”
“Just throw the dart already.” I playfully shove his shoulder but he doesn’t budge.
He does, however, stare at me while throwing the dart at the board and still managing to hit the target. What an ass.
I gasp and narrow my eyes at him and he grins shamelessly. “All-American on the Boston College Dart Team all four years.”
My eyes widen. “That’s a thing?”
“How the fuck should I know? I was just shitting you. That was just luck.”
My jaw drops. “You’re a shitbird, you know it?”
“Shitbird, huh? I think I liked Hot Shot better.”
“Too bad,” I singsong. “Shitbird it is.” I throw another dart, this one hitting a little closer to the target than the first. “Not bad for my first time playing, huh?” I preen at my own meager success.
“Not bad at all,” he says, throwing another one and this time watching where it goes. It hits right next to mine. “See? Told you it was just luck.”
“Now I don’t know if you’re throwing the game or if you actually suck.”
“Hey!”
We share a laugh and for the next hour we drink (I long forgot about switching to non-alcoholic drinks) and eat and play darts. We even sing along to the old-fashioned jukebox in the corner of the bar and dance around each other, using beer bottles as microphones.
By the time the bartender calls for last call, my stomach hurts from laughter, I’m blissfully trashed, my belly is full of greasy bar food, and this crappy day somehow turned into one of the best days of my life.
We fall out the front door, holding each other up and still laughing as the taxi that the bartender called for us waits along the side of the road with its flashers on.
Harry opens the door for me and I climb in, sliding across the seat and he follows.