Page 5 of Holding Out for a Gyro
“You’re a weatherman? Like on TV?” Elizabeth’s eyes widened.
“Seriously?” I studied him. He was pretty enough for TV, but I suspected he might be playing along.
“I work at a news channel.” He frowned. “Or did. What about you? Do you still play the tuba?”
I guffawed and covered my mouth to stifle the outburst. Fortunately, my cup was empty or else beer might have sloshed all over. He had to be joking. Had he figured out Elizabeth’s lie and decided to gaslight her right back? Or maybe I was projecting because it’s what I’d want to do.
“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “I’m very active in the local symphony.”
“That’s exciting. Is that what you do for a living?”
I saw the wheels spinning. Elizabeth didn’t like to lie, but she loved to fabricate, creating fictional worlds, like she did with her writing. “Oh no. I earned my doctorate in zoolinguistics and travel the world giving papers on how to talk to animals.”
Basil tilted his head when I snort-laughed again. He pointed a knuckle at my cup. “Can I get you something?” And I tuned out Elizabeth’s farce.
I wanted to let him buy me a drink, then ask me if I wanted to get out of here, go to his place, and lose ourselves in each other’s flesh for a few hours. I’d be ready and willing to say yes, but I wasn’t drunk enough to forget about tomorrow.
Besides, it was my turn in the checklist hot seat. “Thanks, butI don’t want to give you the wrong idea.” My gaze met his, and I held my breath, steeled for the prying questions. The answers wouldn’t be easy, but I’d meet the requirement: I’d be genuine. I’d let him know he was flirting with a disaster.
“What wrong idea? That you like free booze?”
I chuckled. “It’s just that I’m not in the market for what it implies.”
“You have a boyfriend?” His tone was a mix of casual flirtation and real interest.
“Ha. No. Never that.”
“Never? Why not?”
I desperately wanted to throw my walls up or reach into my bag of tricks and deflect the conversation to solid ground. This was none of his business. I didn’t owe him a foothold into my defenses, but if I wasn’t open right now, I’d forfeit the dare. “You might say I have commitment issues.”
Metallic acid coated my mouth as his smile dropped and the playful light in his eyes winked out. I held my head up, daring him to walk away.
He leaned in until we were separated only by a wave of atomic energy. “What’ve you got against relationships?”
I caught Elizabeth’s eye so I’d get full credit for this. No filters. All me. I took a deep breath. “I had a mean dad.”
If you don’t count all the strangers in Al-Anon and a dozen therapists, only a handful of people knew this about me. Authentic enough yet? My throat tightened, but I mastered my emotions. I would not cry in the middle of a bar like a cliché.
“That’s. Uh.” He frowned.
In for a penny. “One therapist told me I don’t feel like I’m worthy of love and won’t trust anyone who wants to be with me.”
He scratched his chin, and his eyelid twitched. One more confession and we’d be done here. I was going to send this hot guy running for the hills before he could sink his teeth into me.
“Another told me I’m rebelling against my mother’s life choices. But I think I’m possibly a sociopath, incapable of mixing sex with emotion.”
There. That should count enough to let me check it off the list. Elizabeth couldn’t expect anything more honest than that.
He hadn’t bolted yet, but his mouth twisted with concern. “You’ve done a lot of work, huh? I find that admirable. Are you always so candid?”
“Actually, no.”
“No?” His dark eyebrows furrowed.
This was spinning out faster than even I’d anticipated. Elizabeth stepped in to spare me from drowning in sincerity. “Chelsea took a truth serum earlier tonight, and it hasn’t worn off yet.”
My belly laugh sounded like a sob unearthed from deep within. Shit, I needed to make another appointment with Dr. Rubin. Change was easier in theory.
