Page 95 of Falling Back to You

Pulling her sunglasses from her hair to shield her eyes, she said, “I think I do.”

19

Dial

We hit up the Drunken Zombie—unlike the other two bars in town, this place was low key, and most patrons weren’t looking to socialize, but rather be left alone. We claimed a dimly lit corner and settled in. Ozzie looked fresh in a crisp white T-shirt, tobacco-colored Carhartt pants, and a blue-and-orange plaid shirt he was wearing as a jacket. Not gonna lie, I was tempted to cozy up next to him and jerk him off while he did his best to keep his cool.

Our waitress, Flora, had graduated a few years before me. Her eyes grew wide when she spotted us together. “Oh my… I thought it would be the twelfth of Never before I saw you two hanging again.”

“Hi, Flora,” he said.

“Oz.” Her voice was sweet, like they’d shared fond memories. I let it slide because between the both of us, we had a collection of exes. “The usual?” She was focused on Oz, but he deferred to me.

“I’ll have a red wine and Coke, and he’ll have the classic shandy.”

“I know just how he likes it.”

“I’m sure you think you do,” I said through a toothy grin.

Flora flipped her hair and swished her hips all the way back to the bar.

“I like it when you get all territorial,” Ozzie said.

“Nothing of the sort. I’ve just never liked her.”

“How come?”

“Not everybody has to be besties. We just never clicked.”

Ozzie changed the subject. “You look pretty tonight.”

“I just threw something on.” This was a white lie, because I’d stood in front of my closet asking myself, What would Fancy pick if she were here? I’d settled on a Dolly Parton T-shirt as a dress, cinched at the waist by a wide boho belt and cowboy boots.

“Well, I’m glad you chose that, because it shows every inch of your legs and is dangerously close to flashing something else.”

“I have boy shorts underneath, so I won’t be flashing shit.” Scanning the bar, I noted the hushed hum hovering just below the music. This was a place you went to when you didn’t want to be seen, so I had to wonder who was hiding whom.

“Is this our first official date?” Oz asked.

“No, I don’t think you can classify dive bars as acceptable first dates.”

“All of a sudden you have standards?” he quipped.

Gasping, I tossed a handful of napkins at him. “Are you suggesting I didn’t in the past?”

“I mean, I took you on some pretty shitty dates back in the day.”

“The abandoned dairy farm tour was my favorite.”

“I was just trying to get you alone so I could feel you up.”

“It worked.”

“Seriously, I took you there because it had primo views and the perfect echo.”

For as far back as I could remember, Oz had had a thing for echoes. Which was why I knew that for an echo to occur, there needed to be a delay of one-tenth of a second. Ozzie had drilled it into my brain—anything less and it wouldn’t work. He was a chatterbox naturally, but if you really wanted to get him to open up, you could just ask him about echolocation.

“You suggested a screaming competition,” I said.