“What are you up to?” Mary-Ellen asked, leaning over to play with one of the buttons on his shirt. It took all of my willpower not to slap her hand away.
“Responding to a text.”
That made me smile. “Does it take you like, ten years to reply?”
His mouth twisted to one side, as if he were trying not to be amused. “You get pretty fast at getting the right letter from each button.”
“Yeah, I mean at least the person getting a text from you can appreciate how much you have to work at it. You want to use the letter Z? You’re going to have to press the 9 button four times. That’s commitment.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not texting about grizzly buzzards who like pizza.”
My breath hitched for a second as my pulse thumped. I so liked how his brain worked. To distract myself from my wrong impulses and reaction, I asked, “So what happened? Did your carrier pigeon get lost and you had to use this instead?”
He put his left arm along the back of the couch and physically turned his body toward me. I wondered if Mary-Ellen noticed.
“If you knew anything about how tech works, you’d get rid of your smartphone right now,” he told me. “It’s listening to you, tracking you.”
“I know it listens to me. That’s a convenience. Whenever I want to buy something, I talk really loudly about what I’m looking for and just wait for the ads to show up in my social media feeds.”
He could tell that I was teasing him and he responded to it by leaning even closer. “I think I liked it better in the olden days when phones were dumb and people were smart.”
“Good times,” I agreed, realizing that I was moving toward him, too. I straightened out my back, inching away slowly.
He totally noticed and that lazy smile of his gave me actual goose bumps. He slipped his phone into his pocket, apparently ready to focus his attention on me.
But not for the reasons I wanted him to.
We were interrupted then by a waitress. “Good evening! My name is Carol and I’ll be taking care of you. Are you guys celebrating something tonight?”
Mary-Ellen spoke up. “We’re sort of celebrating a birthday, but the real reason we’re all here is to pregame for my cousin Sadie’s wedding!”
While I wondered how someone “sort of” celebrated a birthday Carol said, “Congratulations! Can I get you a bottle of complimentary champagne?”
“Yes, please!” Mary-Ellen said, and then added in a really bad British accent, “I just love champers.”
Be nice, be nice, be nice.
“I’ll take a gin and tonic,” Camden told Carol.
“Can I get a strawberry-banana virgin daiquiri?” I asked and Carol said, “Of course!” They could lead this horse to a nightclub, but they could not make me drink. Although tonight wasn’t technically a wedding event, I wanted to stay on this side of sober. I did not need my inhibitions lowered around Camden.
As Carol went to take everyone else’s orders Camden asked, “Virgin fruit daiquiri, huh? Isn’t that basically a smoothie?”
“Maybe I’m on a health kick. Or trying to cut calories.”
“You don’t need to.” I drew in a sharp breath. How did he do that? How did he say something so simple and utterly meaningless and turn it into a molten stab of liquid heat that I felt in my stomach?
Mary-Ellen, apparently tired of being left out, put her hand on Camden’s shoulder. “So, Mr. Gin and Tonic, what is it you do?”
“I work at a tech company,” was his answer. I noticed that he didn’t pepper her with questions. Although to be fair, I don’t think anybody would ever suspect Melon of being a spy.
Carol was standing next to Dan and Sadie and I heard Sadie order a club soda. Carol seemed confused. “You’re the bride, right? Are you sure I can’t get you something a little stronger?”
“No, thanks. My mom’s an alcoholic and I usually try to steer clear.”
That broke my heart a little. Carol seemed uncomfortable by Sadie’s proclamation, but she covered it up with a smile and promised she’d return quickly. Sadie turned and caught me looking at her. She pointed at Camden and at me, then gave me two thumbs up. I smiled back weakly. At least I was making the customer happy.
My nerve endings were also pretty excited, sparking with delight at being so close to him again.
Since I was sitting right next to them, I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on Mary-Ellen and Camden’s conversation. Or more accurately, Mary-Ellen’s monologue. She was talking about a British reality show she loved called The Only Way Is Essex, and while she was describing the premise of it she had somehow lapsed back into that mangled English accent.