But this time, instead of ordering a gin and tonic for himself, he orders a Talisker, neat. And this drink he finishes in less than fifteen minutes, soon ordering another.
As we drink, and talk, and drink some more, Josh’s face grows flushed and warm, and eventually his words come more easily: His first love was a girl named Claire, in high school. She was Korean American, just like Josh, and their families knew each other. They went to the same church, and lost their virginity to each other after dating for a year. She immediately told her parents, who told his parents, who were furious and made them break up.
“And?”
“And they grounded me for the rest of the year.”
“That seems a little harsh. I probably would have thrown a fit and eventually snuck out to meet her.”
“Your mom is great, so I don’t mean this as disrespectful to her, but it’s different in Korean families. I’m the oldest son and that’s a big responsibility.”
“So that was the end of it?”
“We don’t disobey our parents.”
“Ever?”
He shakes his head, sipping.
I lean forward on my elbow, my three . . . four? gin and tonics making me feel all fond and warm. “Did you love her?”
Josh is amused by this, and leans on the table, mimicking my position. “I loved her in the way we love in high school, sort of intensely, idealistically, and without knowing each other all that well.”
In some ways it seems crazy that we’ve been hanging out all this time—even living together for a while—and I don’t know any of this about him.
I sigh. “My first love was a guy named Tyler. Freshman year in college.”
“Let me guess, he was a fratty white dude.”
This makes me giggle because Tyler was pretty fratty. Backwards Yankees cap, square superhero jaw, baseball player, insisted he drank PBR because of some subtle flavor that most people missed. “Yeah, but there was depth there, too.”
Josh snorts into his glass.
“There was! He was nice on the inside. He was my six months,” I say, wistful. “I thought we’d be this wacky combination couple of eccentric woman and jock dude, but then he told me one night I was embarrassing him and I was like, fuck you, I’m out.”
“Good for you.”
“Will you think I’m lame if I say that I still liked him?”
He looks at me over the top of his glass. “You’re looking at the guy whose girlfriend was banging someone else for over a year.”
I suck in a breath through my teeth. “Right. I mean . . . Tyler would come around when he was drunk and lonely and I’d let him in, wondering whether I made the right decision, and we’d have sex again. Then at the next party, he’d be like”—I put on my stoner voice—“ ‘Dude. Hazel, you’re so weird.’ ”
“I had one of those.” He finishes his second scotch. His cheeks are so adorably pink and I give them a mental pinch. “The ex who comes over when they’re lonely. Mine was Sarah. Except we were together for a year and a half and she cried when we broke up, telling me she wanted to marry me someday, just not yet. She wanted to see other people to be sure.”
I groan. “Gross.” Though in the interest of full transparency, I’ll admit it comes out a little more like Grossssthss.
“She would come over drunk and seduce me, and the next day I’d hate myself.”
“It’s hard to say no when there’s a naked woman in your bed.”
His face flushes redder. “Very true.”
“Did it bother your parents that Tabby wasn’t Korean?”
Josh takes his third scotch from the bartender with two hands, thanking her quietly. “I think it bothered them more that she never took the time to get to know them, and she never tried to connect with Em, either. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, my parents are pretty mellow. They aren’t going to push themselves on anyone, but it matters to them that they know what’s going on and that the person I’m with becomes a part of our family. Tabby was never interested in that. It’s funny that I’m only now realizing why they never pushed for us to get married. It was awkward, a little, when Emily told us Dave proposed, and I wasn’t even with anyone. I think we all assumed I would get married first simply because I’m older. But they knew she wasn’t right for me, even if I didn’t yet.”
I think of my mom, and how she knows almost every detail of my life. I can’t really imagine it any other way. “That makes sense.”
He swallows and nods at me. His eyes are growing a little unfocused. “Yeah, you get it. Tabby never did.”
“Well, I think we can agree Tabby is an asshole. Which is why she never got her own personalized fried rice.”
Josh clinks my glass.
“The first time your mom came over and you were still at work,” I say, “she spent fifteen minutes cutting paper napkins in half. She told me they were too expensive to use only once.” I remember the matter-of-fact way she explained what she was doing and it made me look back on every paper napkin I’ve wasted in my life. “I mean, if I did that, you’d chalk it up to me being odd, but she does it and it totally makes sense, right?”
“She’s pretty great at finding ways to save and reuse.”
The room is a little swishy around the edges and I lean against his shoulder, starting to feel sleepy. Against the side of my head, he’s so solid, but above that sensation is the vibrant heat of him. “You’re a furnace.”
Josh nods, and I feel the side of his face brush against my hair. “I run pretty hot.”
“You sure do.”
He laughs, shaking a little against me. His voice comes out slurred: “You ready to head out?”
We turn to the window, and only now do we realize the rain is coming down in thick sheets, and neither of us is in a state to get behind the wheel.
“Cab?” Josh asks.
“My place is two blocks from here. We can run it. You can sleep on the couch with Winnie.”
··········
We’re soaked, freezing, and hammered, sprinting up the five flights to my apartment in a drunken attempt to get warm. Josh stops just inside the door, dripping on the small rug there, cupping his shoulders and shivering. He still takes the time to slip off his shoes.
Winnie gives him a courtesy sniff before deciding it is too late for this nonsense and walking away again. I’m sure she assumes he’ll just follow her into bed.
“Give me your clothes.” I motion him forward. “Come on.” I am breathless from the run, and high from my cocktails. The floor undulates beneath my feet.
He giggles. “If I give you my clothes, then I’ll have no clothes on.”
He seems to have grown even drunker on the run home. Drunk Josh is my favorite.
“Okay.” I put my fingertip to my nose. “I have an idea. Go to the bathroom. Get undressed and get in the shower. I’ll sneak in, take your clothes without peeking, put them in the dryer, and bring you a blanket. Boom.”
He tiptoes down the hall, laughing when his shoulder collides with the doorway to the bathroom, offering it a quiet “Sorry.”