Phoebe Berman's Gonna Lose It(36)

“What do you want to drink?” Finn asks me.

“Oh, I can get it myself, don’t worry,” I tell him, hoping he’ll fight me on it.

“No, I got it,” he insists. Get Finn to buy me a drink. I give him my drink order and he heads to the other side of the counter, where there are fewer people and he’ll have an easier time grabbing a bartender’s attention. I continue walking in Jonathan’s direction.

I tap him on the shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He turns slowly, unsurprised, almost like he was expecting me.

“I’m sorry.” He looks down at me with genuine regret in his eyes. “I haven’t seen you this serious about a crush in a while, and I guess I’m thrown off. I just want everything to work out for you.”

His words tumble out fast, and I look down at the bar to see three empty shot glasses in front of him. Did he drink all of those?

“I want you to be happy,” he says.

The question that’s been looming in the back of my mind all night bangs so loudly at the front door of my consciousness, it’s become impossible to ignore: Is Jonathan jealous?

And if he is, does this change everything?

“Here you go!” Finn makes his way through the crowd and hands me my drink. Jonathan offers him a smile this time around. A peace offering.

“Come back to the tables,” I tell Jonathan.

“I’m gonna stay here for a bit and keep Jerry company,” he tells us. “You know how overwhelmed he gets on trivia night.”

Finn is eerily quiet as we make our way back to the tables, and I decide showing him my high score on the Pac-Man machine could be a good way to ease the tension.

“Let me show you where I spend most of my time,” I tell him, but when we round the corner, some guy is already playing at the machine.

The majority of his face is obscured by a shadow cast by his Yankees hat, but he seems like he’s around our age. And at least somewhat attractive.

Make him think you’re interested in someone else.

I see an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone: make Finn jealous while checking off an item from my list. Compliment a stranger on his outfit should do just fine.

“I like your shoes,” I tell Yankees Hat while Finn looks on from behind me. Yankees Hat tears his gaze away from the game and stares at me blankly.

Silence.

There’s a slightly sour edge to his demeanor.

Did I say something wrong? It was such an innocuous comment. I wonder what’s got his panties in such a bunch.

And then I look down.

He’s wearing one of those chunky black boots, the kind you get when you can start walking on an injured foot, and one Adidas slide.

I panic. “I meant your shirt. I like your shirt.”

“Thanks?” he says. His Pac-Man gets eaten, and he offers me one last confused look before stepping back from the machine and walking toward the bathroom.

I follow him, unable to resist the urge to overexplain myself.

“It’s not that I don’t like your shoe,” I say as he disappears into the bathroom. “I just think your shirt is really a standout piece!”

The door slams shut in my face.

I prepare to turn around toward Finn, mortified by another task gone wrong, but when I swivel to face him, someone else is in his place. Jonathan leans against the Pac-Man machine, stroking the stubble on his chin and looking at me with an arched eyebrow.

“What did I just watch?”

I put my hands on my hips. “A train wreck, it would appear.” I sigh. “I was trying something out.”

“You are so out of that guy’s league it’s not even funny,” Jonathan says matter-of-factly.

I shake my head from side to side and hope that the mess of frizzy hair falling in front of my eyes is enough to mask my mortified expression. “That makes it even worse,” I whine. “Why am I following a man with exposed toes into the men’s room?”

I move toward Jonathan in an attempt to hide my face in his chest, but he stops me by grabbing my shoulders, holding me in place, and staring down at me earnestly.

“That asshole should be thanking you for looking at him.”

In a moment of perfect timing, the bathroom door opens, and Yankees Hat walks out right as Jonathan pulls me to his chest and kisses the top of my head. He meets Yankees Hat’s gaze, glaring at him before turning his full attention back to me. I can’t help the blush that creeps up my neck.

“Let’s go back to the table.” He walks me back to the booth where Meg and Noah have inched closer to each other, and Finn sits across from them nursing his beer. I sit back down next to him.

“Finn is throwing me a little birthday thing next week,” I hear Noah tell Meg. “You should come.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to invite you to that!” Finn turns to me. “We’re having a party at our place next Thursday.” I nod feverishly. “I’ll text you the details.” He reaches for his phone in his pocket, patting down each one before turning back to me. “Shit, I forgot my phone at home.” Of course he did.

That is so Finn.

“I can put my number in yours?”

He reaches his hand out expectantly.

I hand him my phone, and he begins to type his number.

His brow furrows as he looks at my screen, and I see his finger swipe in an upward motion, probably hiding a text that popped up. I turn to ice. Oh my god, I panic, thinking about what it could be: Another stalker-type photo from Cheryl? Something sexual from Nora involving what she thinks Finn wants to do to me and where? This could be the end, I think.