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Summary
“I’m Eddie, by the way.”
“Oh, uh—” The boy takes the hand that Eddie holds out and shakes it, apparently raised too well to snub an offered handshake. He is slow to offer his name in return, however, a flash of uncertainty crossing his fine features. Finally, he says, “Tom.”
“Can I buy you a drink?” Eddie asks, prepared to innocently pretend he had no idea Tom was here with someone else.
Eddie is treated to a third variety of smile from Tom—not the shiny, attentive smile he had for his friend, and not the easy, dreamy smile he had in general—but one that is a little sly and a little bashful at the same time. There is beauty in contradiction, Eddie has always thought so.
“Club soda,” Tom tells the bartender, “with lime—on my date’s tab.” Tom hikes his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing toward that old fucker back at the booth.
Behind Eddie, Jeff cackles, long and loud and exactly like a giant prick. “Oh, man,” Jeff says, making a big show of holding his ribs. “You got shut down by a fucking octogenarian!”
Eddie is settling into his new boring life as a teacher. He meets a guy at a bar. The guy’s not boring.