In other words, the place looks awesome. I find myself a little disappointed. I don’t want to have a good time. I want the place to suck, so I can tell Matthew it sucks, and tell him he sucks.
“Used to come here all the time with my friends, back during law school. Not sure if I would’ve made it through without Streeter’s.”
“Did you go to U of C?”
“Yep. A bit before you, but I did.”
I eye him for a second, knowing it’s something we have in common. Still, this guy is a jerk. Why do I keep forgetting that when I look at his pretty face?
He nods his head toward the building. “Come on.”
Before I know it, he’s out of the car, next to my door, and has it opened for me. I’m not sure how I feel about it. It’s like he goes from hot to cold, zero to sixty in an instant. One second, he’s a cocky asshole, the next second, he’s a gentleman. Pick a lane, Matthew!
But oh no, my feet follow him again, right up to the door for what reason, I still don’t know.
When we walk inside, it’s even more amazing than the little drunk mascot on the sign.
There’s ping pong and foosball and every other cool game you would enjoy as a child, but it’s for grown-ups. It has the same wooden-finished interior and brick walls that make it look distinctly—Chicago. Not to mention it’s not some corporate chain, putting profits above all else. No, you can tell whoever runs this place loves to run this place. It has heart—a soul. How have I never been here?
The Christmas lights slung around haphazardly, and a shitty little tree with lights in the corner, make it absolutely perfect.
When I glance over, Matthew is grinning like he knows exactly how I feel right now, what’s going through my brain.
Dickhead.
“Come on.” He grabs my hand for like the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes and leads me up to a barstool.
The place is practically empty right now, which is both awesome and a shame. It’s not safe being near Matthew and booze with no witnesses. Not because he’s a creep, but because I don’t know if I trust myself with him and those damn eyes.
The bartender comes over and greets us, then pours a couple of draft beers. It’s so not what I would expect Matthew to order. He looks like one of the law partners already, like that’s what he was born to be. I crack up a little when I think of him as a cartoon infant in a business suit, like the Boss Baby.
I try to hold it back, but I just keep hearing him speaking in legal terms with his cute little animated suit on, wishing people would take him seriously.
“You’re good at entertaining yourself, aren’t you?”
I nod and try to pull myself together. “Yes.”
“So, let’s hear the joke.”
I shake my head furiously. “Not gonna happen.”
“Why? Was it about me?”
“Yes, but that’s not why I’m withholding.”
He leans in with that million-dollar smile again, like I fascinate him. “Why are you then?”
I lean back on the barstool because he’s still too damn close, and I like it too much. My eyes dart around the place for a moment, then land back on him. “I call it the audible joke paradox.”
He stares at me for a long moment, like he’s thinking this through. “You mean like when a thought is hilarious in your mind, but when you try to convey it to someone else, it’s not even remotely funny?”
He’s pretty sharp. I mean, why wouldn’t he be? Look where he’s at already. I don’t like being kept on my toes constantly, though. I nod anyway, smiling. “Exactly.”
He’s doing that super-hot pondering thing again, swirling his beer a little, eyes darting up behind me just slightly. Then, he shrugs and says, “Fair enough.”
My eyebrows rise a little. “You’re not curious at all, after I told you it was about you?”
“Sure, but I’m more interested in my own agenda here. Not your jokes that are guaranteed to bomb.”
“Hey…”
“You’re the one who said the joke was shit, not me.” His shoulders bounce slightly, like he’s holding back a laugh.
“I didn’t say it was shit. I said it interprets poorly to an oral medium, there is a difference.”
The way he looks at me when I say the world ‘oral’ sends a tingle up my spine. No, a damn shiver. Ugh, I wish he’d stop.
No, you don’t!
He shrugs. “Well, clearly you have a backup plan for a career in stand-up. As long as you’re the only audience member at your shows.”
I feign offense at him, then set my beer down. “Look, I’m way funnier than you, so that’s all that matters here. I’d kick your ass in a comedy competition.”
He snorts. “You’re high as fuck.”
“Higher than you on the comedy podium. Exactly.”
He chokes a little on his beer, then grins with the foam still covering his upper lip.
I want to lick it off.
Stop!
It’s not like I’d have a chance to anyway, though. He immediately brings the sleeve of his jacket up to wipe it as he continues to chuckle. “That was pretty good.”
“Thanks for that. I always feel better when validated by my lessors.”
He tries to hold back again but can’t.
What the hell am I doing here? Bantering with this man? Seriously, what? I shouldn’t be here. This man is my boss. At my dream job. Yet, it feels like I’ve known him forever. I think if we hadn’t met the way we did, we’d already be friends. He’s the kind of person I’d be drawn to. Like a kindred spirit. Even this goddamn bar is perfect. It’s the kind of place I’d want to spend a large chunk of my life; the ideal place to socialize.
“So, how’s your final year of school going?”
“It’ll be going better when classes end soon.”
“What are you taking?”
“Specialty courses. Labor, securities, that kind of stuff.”
He pretends like he’s yawning but laughs as he does it.
“Exactly.” I smile. “The information is valuable, but yeah. Not exactly exciting.”
“You’ll learn more in a couple months at the firm than you will at school.”
I nod. “I believe you. It’s why I’m so excited about the internship.” My eyes narrow. “And why I can’t mess this up.”
Stop talking. You shouldn’t even be here, with him.
Matthew dies laughing.
“What?” I glare at him.
He shakes his head. “And you thought the way you behaved today was the best way to not mess it up?”
Ugh, every time I start to like him a little, he acts like a condescending douche. “Look, I want this internship, more than anything. Yes, it’s great for my career. But my self-respect is more important to me than climbing any career ladder. It’s the principle. Nobody is going to walk all over me and treat me like shit.”
“I didn’t walk all over you.”
“You literally did.”
He laughs again.
Dickhead.
“Your principles are admirable, to be honest. And they’ll probably serve you well, because you will have to fight. That part is true.” His eyes land on mine. “But the first fucking day is kinda pushing the envelope.”