Good for them. They’re also ridiculously in love. All around me, every-damn-where, my band of brothers is toppling. Single soldiers have become fallen warriors, losing their minds to the siren call of love, leaving me the last man standing.
Well, I’ve already been there, done that, have the battle scars to prove it. I have no desire to repeat the experience.
But having fun? Bring it on. Light and easy? That fits with one of the top-tier items on my do-and-don’t list. Do be more chill.
“Best karaoke duet ever?” I toss the question to Teagan, staying on the train I like to travel with her.
She stares at the ceiling, brow furrowed, lips pursed. “‘Endless Love’ is pretty good.”
“For the cheese factor, right?”
“Of course. So much cheese, you could make a sandwich.”
“‘Endless Love’ is pure cheddar. But ‘Islands in the Stream’ is a classic duet too. A little schmaltzy, but easy for mere mortals to sing.”
She nods, eagerly agreeing. “Unlike, say, ‘Shallow.’ Why do people even attempt to duet that song?”
I hold up stop-sign palms. “Don’t look at me. I would never attempt to follow Gaga and Cooper.”
“Those are some words to live by.” She snaps her fingers, eyes lighting up. “I’ve got it! ‘Summer Nights.’ That’s the best karaoke duet ever.”
I sing, ask her to “tell me more, tell me more,” and she shimmies her shoulders, providing the harmony.
“We’re a good duo,” she says. “Maybe that’s our hidden talent.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t think you can trick me into being your teammate. You and I—we are competitors. And I still have a laser-tag score to settle with you.”
“Good luck with that.”
When the tune ends, Summer and Fitz leave the stage, Summer going to join her husband, Oliver, who’s chatting with Dean, while Fitz makes a beeline for our table, pointing at me, eyes furious. “I heard the news. You choked in the arena,” Fitz says, shaking his head in disappointment. “You brought our team down.”
I shoot him a what gives look. “Dude, you were eliminated in the first round today. You’ve been out here singing ‘Electric Avenue’ for the last thirty minutes.”
He fires off an indignant look. “I did not sing ‘Electric Avenue.’ I would never sing ‘Electric Avenue.’”
“Guys, stop mentioning ‘Electric Avenue,’” Teagan chimes in, covering her ears for a second. “You’re going to give me an earworm.”
“Exactly,” I say to Fitz. “Now you’ll have T’s earworm on your conscience, along with how you did nothing for our team. I was the only reason we lasted that long.”
Teagan hums, tapping her lip-glossed mouth, which is distracting, I admit. Hell, the way her finger presses to her lips is a double whammy. Now I’m thinking of lips and fingertips.
“I don’t know,” Teagan says, giving me a naughty look. “That’s not what I heard about how long you last, Ransom.”
I dole out a sharp stare. “I have excellent stamina.”
An eyebrow arch is her answer, and then she throws a saucy question at me. “Do you though?”
“Don’t make me prove it to you,” I say, as if I don’t want her to take me up on that.
Wait. I don’t. I swear, I don’t.
Brain, remember your mantras: Love sucks, and friends with breasts do not get to be friendly with your body.
Fitz raises both hands like he’s about to take off. “Well, I think that’s my cue to make myself scarce.”
Teagan pats the table. “Don’t be silly. Stay, Fitz. We always talk like pigs.”
“I am very proper,” I say, all hoity-toity. But I say to my bud, a little hurt in my voice, “Also, I can’t believe you’re hounding me for not winning laser tag, which is more than I can say for either of our sorry asses on the ice a few weeks ago. That second round of the playoffs was brutal.” I shake my head sadly.
“Low blow, Ransom,” Fitz says. “It’s devastating to come so close, but not close enough.” But the truth is, he’s not terribly sad that we missed out on the Stanley Cup Finals. All his postseason energy is on his guy. Fitz is marrying Dean next weekend, and he’s pretty much the happiest man I know.
As for me? Not making the finals definitely still stings. But days like this and time with friends make the loss hurt a little less. I’m hoping the ache disappears completely before the charity gala this coming weekend. I have a bet with some of my frenemies who play for the Yankees that our hockey team will beat their fundraising total, and I intend to do my part to decimate the Bronx Bombers, because that’s what we do—that’s how we are. Because my teammates don’t back down from a dare—especially one with our charities benefiting from the competition.
Logan and Bryn return with beers, so we toast to Bryn’s new business. After a long pull, Teagan tenses, then reaches into her back pocket. Grabbing her phone, she slides her thumb across the screen, peering at it closely. She looks up apologetically. “Email from a board member. I know it’s after hours, but . . .”
