Page 152 of The Incredible Ordinary

“Peer pressured?” I suggest.

He snaps his fingers. “That! He peer pressured me into doing shots.”

I flick a look toward Milán.

See? I know you.

I know you a lot.

I want to know you best.

“Okay, this might have a little to do with me.” He holds his hands up in front of himself. “In my defense… it’s really funny when he’s drunk.”

I grin at him.

“Come meet my friends!” Aiden says. I glance over my shoulder while Aiden tugs me toward the people at the bar.

The next hour is a whirlwind of new faces and names I can’t remember. Milán gets me a drink, and then another one because it’s been a long, long time since I went out to a bar, and I kind of want that drink. I want to feel young and carefree and without responsibilities for a few hours.

I’m sitting in the corner of a booth, side plastered against Milán. We’re sharing the booth with Aiden, his college roommate, Ollie, and Lena, a woman who works as a midwife at the same hospital where Aiden works with her husband Marcus. There was a second there when I felt intimidated by all of them, because I figured there was no way we’d have anything in common.

Turns out it’s not strictly necessary to have that for a fun night in the bar, because you can just as easily find common ground by arguing about absurd scenarios.

Like what’s the worst talent.

Or how many pigeons it would take to defeat a bear.

I’m going with five and nobody can convince me otherwise.

And I’m having fun.

“Another round?” Ollie asks, smiling widely at all of us. He gets up and goes to the bar. Somebody turns the music up.

“Babe,” Marcus says. He gets up, executes an exaggerated bow, and holds out his hand to Lena.

“Who? Me?” She pretends to be surprised. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”

Marcus pulls her to him, and they waltz between the tables. I smile as I watch them. Other people start to join them until there are more people dancing than not. Aiden has disappeared somewhere, too, so it’s just me and Milán.

I lean against the backrest, turn my head, and look at him.

“I’m having so much fun,” I say.

“That’s good.”

His head is so close. Lips, too. Close enough to kiss. It’s so hard to resist.

“And I’m happy.” Probably drunk, too. Not too much, but enough that those words come out easily. Somewhere in the back of my head is a voice telling me I shouldn’t have said it, but it’s faint and easy to dismiss.

Why not? Why wouldn’t I tell him? If I were him I’d want to know, so why not?

“Are you?” he says. His smile lights up the dim bar.

See? He wants to know, too.

Because Iknowhim.

I nod. “You know that feeling? When everything isjust right? Like… the perfect day.”