Page 65 of Aperture

“I’ll take a Guinness Extra Stout, please,” I answer. Wyatt's eyes look like two dinner plates when he hears my order.

“I’ll take one, as well,” he tells her, and then he turns to me.

“That’s a heavy beer,” he says. “I didn’t peg you for a Stout girl.”

“Let’s face it, Wyatt”, I tell him, “You could write a book with everything you don’t know about me.”

“Wow, Millie has some bite to her,” he jokes as our server sets our beers down on the table.

“You’re learning jiu jitsu, learning how to shoot, and ordering Guinness. Gwen should not call you ‘Mouse.’”

“What would you call me?” I ask as I take a sip of beer.

“Millipede,” he responds quickly.

“You think I’m a worm?” I ask incredulously.

“No,” he starts, before I cut him off.

“Yes, you do. You basically just called me a worm.”

Wyatt throws his head back and laughs heartily, and the sound makes my heart feel light in my chest and my limbs tingle.

“Let me finish,” he says as he slows to a chuckle. “Millipedes are so cool. There is this one species that lives in the mountains here in California. I used to see them when I visited my grandparents in the summer. I was actually obsessed with them when I was a kid.”

Wyatt’s only talked about his family once, and I am excited that he’s sharing this with me.

“I love how they glow in the darkness. They spend their days underground, but at night they come out and light up the forest floors. Their glow is actually an ominous warning to predators. They can release toxic cyanide from their pores. I have always thought of them as beautiful and kind of badass.”

“So, I’m a poisonous, glowing worm?” I smile.

“Yes, Millie. You are a poisonous, glowing worm.” He smiles and takes a sip of his beer.

Shaking his head he says, “I just mean that you are beautiful. I’ve seen a lot of darkness in this job and you are the exact opposite. You’re a light in a dark world,” he pauses, “and also slightly dangerous. I think it’s a perfect combination.”

His intense gaze meets my eyes and I am momentarily speechless because of his adoring words. The silence threatens to become awkward so I change the subject.

“So, explain what’s going on with the darts? I thought you just threw them around when you were drunk. What’s the deal?”

“Oh no, people take dart competitions very seriously,” he answers. “These guys are playing 501. The goal is to reach zero first by subtracting the total scored after throwing three darts.”

“The big guy seems like a serious shit-talker,” I muse.

“Yes, I believe they score extra points for superb shit-talking,” he muses.

They play several rounds, and once the Irish competitor wins, the group breaks out into a lively song.

Wyatt and I are on our second beer and I'm completely caught up in the moment. I am smiling from ear to ear as they begin to sing.

“In Dublin’s fair city,

Where the girls are so pretty,

I first set eyes on sweet Molly Malone….”

I don’t know the words exactly but I’m vaguely familiar with it and I can’t help but try to keep up. The group is encouraging me with an “Aye, Lass,” every now and then and I find myself having the best non-date I’ve ever had.

“I can’t believe how much fun that was,” I tell Wyatt as we finally leave the pub an hour later.