“What show?” my mouth forms the words before I can think of something else to say. Something cleverer. Something scathing. Something to make him feel like he’d made me feel before.
“Aw come on now. I saw you watching us. All of it. It’s okay to admit you liked it.”
“I have no problem admitting things that are true. I just don’t make up long speeches full of lies to rattle off to complete strangers though,” I say.
For some reason, that amuses the asshole. And he grins and brushes the sweaty hair from his face in a way that I imagine would send most women into a horny frenzy.
“Guess what?”
I just look at him, willing my shoulders not to shrug and my mouth not to ask.
“Neither do I.”
“Then what do you call that little lame-o soliloquy you gave me back there?” I gesture with my head to the table at the back.
“That wasn’t a soliloquy, or a speech of lies. It was… a display. Of how to win an argument. You said I could never surprise you. So, I thought I’d show you the importance of never saying never.”
“Ah, well, my initial speechlessness, did not necessarily imply surprise.”
“Then what, what did it?”
“Ridicule.”
“Nice try.”
“Is it your turn to be surprised?”
“Oh, I’m in a rock band, I’ve seen it all, babe. There’s no way you can surprise me.” He says. And it’s so arrogant I can’t even stop myself laughing.
He laughs as well and I hold a hand out, stopping him.
“No, please, stop. I’m not laughing with you, I’m definitely laughing at you.”
“So? I can laugh alongside. I’m a happy, laughing type of guy.”
“You’re an arrogant ass, is what you are.”
“There’s no reason I can’t be both. My parents always said I was an overachiever. I bet yours said the same.”
I stop laughing. And I don’t mean to, but my face freezes for a second, and then falls. Shit. After all this time, I still can’t control it.
He notices. Damn, he fucking notices, and asks, “What’s wrong?”
The last thing I’m worried about, though, is sparing his feelings, so I don’t bother.
“I don’t have parents, hotshot. But thanks for reminding me that I had no one to care if I was achieving or not. See you ’round. Try not to depress anyone else tonight.” I hoist the strap of my handbag higher on my shoulder and spin to leave.
His hand on my arm stops me, and I fight with myself to tear it away, ignore him. But I know I can’t.
“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” There’s something genuine in his voice. Probably the first I’ve heard out of everything he’s said to me. I inwardly roll my eyes, knowing I might’ve gone too far and face him again.
My shoulders rise in a quick shrug, like I’ve brushed it up. “It’s fine.”
“No, really, um,” he lets out a short laugh exhale. “fuck, I feel really bad. Let me make it up to you, buy you a drink, prove I’m not really an asshole… unless you’re a recovering alcoholic, in which case I’ve stepped in it again and am just going to go stab myself with a breadstick.”
“Make it an ice pick and I might consider giving up alcohol for life.”
“Come on, one drink. It can be orange juice, just to prove I’m not trying to get you plastered and into bed.”
“I’d rather not, Lothario. But fine, I’ll accept your apology. Good night.”
“I’m not a Lothario.”
“You had me fooled with your speech and all. Do you roll that out for every woman you meet or is it just for weekends and public holidays? Because, either way, it needs work.”
“Seemed to work on you.”
“You seem to have mistaken my politeness for some sort of implication that you had any effect on me.”
“Oh, so your silence…”
“I was trying to think of something to let you down easy, buddy. You know, because you were so taken with me. I realize now that you actually do liiiike me, and all that tosh about it just being to win an argument is to spare your poor playboy rejected feelings.”
“Hmmm, one does seem to be feeling a sense of nostalgia for that silence.”
“You got it.”
“Surely you can’t let me have the last word.”
“You don’t.”
“Fine, good night.”
“No, I said good night first!”
“Well, I said it second. And last. Good night, silent girl.”
“NO!” I suddenly realize I’m chasing after him. “Hey, come back here!”
He spoons around, with that shit. Eating. Fucking. Grin. Again. “Hey, if you want me so bad, you just had to say.”
“Say what?”
“Say I win.”
“Like hell. Like you could ever win, you manwhore!”
“Anca?”
I spin around and come face to face with one of the cellists from the band. I’d hoped to sneak out of here tonight without being spotted. But the manwhore foiled even that plan.
“Jez!”
“How come you didn’t come over to talk to me?”
“Oh, I was busy, trying to get rid of a creepy stalker.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the manwhore come closer, with his mouth open about to say something. Jez eyes him and then looks back at me.
“What? Who is it? I’ll get rid of him.”
“It’s okay, I can take care of it, geez.”
“Anyway, I’m so glad you’re here. Come say hi to everyone.”
“Wait, you know Jez?” The manwhore asks.
“Yeah, of course.” I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, man, duh. She’s Anca.” Jez replies, looking at the manwhore, confused.
Manwhore’s mouth drops open, and it’s almost worth all of the night’s aggravation to see how he’s going to react to what’s about to be said.
“You’re… Anca?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh my god. You’re Jez’s…” He starts.
“Sister,” I finish for him.
He stares at me, unblinking.
I lean in, stretch up on my tip toes and whisper into his ear, “Surprise.”