The Lies That Define Us (Us 2)

I contemplate handing over my fake ID but change my mind. This guy would be able to tell, even though it’s out of state. I bet he isn’t much older than me and probably had a fake ID or two when he was my age. Besides, it’s been years since I’ve had a Shirley Temple and I forgot how good they taste. Acting bored, I wave him off and give him a whatever response.

With his brow wrinkled, he asks, “Who’s Jake?”

Did this guy just read my thoughts? Totally creepy. Trying to not give myself away, I just feign ignorance. “Um, what?”

“You called me Jake. So who’s Jake?”

Shit.

I said that out loud? It’s not worth my energy to lie, so I just tell him the truth.

“Oh, I didn’t realize I said that out loud. You kind of remind me of Jake Ryan, the character Michael Schoeffling played in the movie Sixteen Candles. You know, before he ran off from Hollywood and disappeared somewhere in the northeast where rumor has it he now makes and sells furniture. Which is just as sexy, by the way, but that is beside the point. Since I don’t know your name and you aren’t wearing a name tag, I named you Jake. But now that I’m looking at you more closely, you don’t look much like Jake after all. Maybe it was just the dark hair and light-colored eyes.”

Ugh, when did I start rambling? This guy turns me into a different person. I’m all nervous and blushy. That shit never happens to me. He has the sexiest smirk on his face. I’m not sure how to react to that.

“So what else were you thinking about me?”

And with that, my entire face and neck heat up and turn bright red. Never in my life has a guy embarrassed me. It has always been the other way around. But I can’t even count how many times I have blushed already in this guy’s presence.

Suddenly, my mind is blank. I waste time and take a long drink of my Shirley Temple. I compose myself and muster up my sexiest laugh.

“The acoustic version of ‘Somewhere in Neverland’ that All Time Low does is much better than the performance you just put on. The violins add a little something to it, don’t you agree? And about the other thing, don’t be so full of yourself. It was an observation. Nothing more to it.”

Acting genuinely surprised, he asks, “Huh, you know who All Time Low is? I wouldn’t have guessed that one. Oh, and by the way, my name is Flynn but continue to call me Jake if you prefer.”

“Who doesn’t know who All Time Low is? They’re only my favorite band. I’ll tell you, if you want to have a fun and hilarious night, play Cards Against Humanity with those guys. Seriously, the best night of my life.”

“I gotta tell you, I’m not usually shocked, but you’re surprising me more and more, pretty girl.”

“Thanks, I think? I guess I should tell you my name is Ashtyn but pretty girl works too.”

I’m not sure about this guy. Never have I felt this kind of reaction toward someone else before, and I’m curious to find out what makes him so special. If my body reacts this way toward him while we’re talking and clothed, I can’t imagine what it would do if we physically came in contact with each other. He looks like the kind of guy that knows what he’s doing. Not at all like the boys back home that are only in it for themselves.

Don’t they know that girls talk?

As I eat my burger—which is the best burger I’ve ever eaten before, and I eat In-N-Out all the time—my gaze drifts to Flynn as he continues to flirt and make drinks for other people. He doesn’t get back on stage, which disappoints me. I finish my food and decide it’s time for me to leave anyway.

I reach down to grab my purse—which isn’t there. In my haste to leave the house, I hadn’t brought anything with me besides my phone and earbuds. Suddenly in freak-out mode, I’m not sure what I should do. If I dine and dash, my guess is someone would catch me. This is a pretty small pub and I bet I’m the only outsider in the room. That isn’t an option. I could call my mom and have her come down here with some money, but I’d rather get caught dining and dashing than talk to her again tonight. Unsure what I should do, I just sit there contemplating.

“Refill?”

I jump, unaware he was standing there. Should I tell him the predicament I’m in? Honestly, the worst thing that could happen is he laughs in my face, and I have to call my mom. Either that or he could make me do dishes. Is that something that happens in real life? Or is it just something that happens in the movies? I don’t know but I figure I could give it a shot.

“No, thanks, I don’t need another one. I’m actually done. But…umm…I kind of have a problem.”

I’m surprised when his face shows legitimate concern. “Oh, what’s the problem?”

I try to avoid his face but ultimately my eyes make it back to his. This is humiliating. My eyes drop back to my feet before I admit, “I don’t know how to say this but my mom and I got into a huge fight earlier. I went for a walk to blow off steam. Since I hadn’t eaten all day I stopped in here for some food.”

I look up at him as he waits for me to continue. I don’t get embarrassed easily but even my normal self would be flustered in a situation like this.

“The problem is, I left the house so quickly, I forgot to grab my purse. I already had my phone on me so I didn’t even think twice about it until I reached down for my purse just now. I can call my mom to bring me some money, but I don’t want to talk with her right now.”

“Well, I can think of a way for you to work off your dinner.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Are you going to make me do dishes or something gross like that?”

“Nope, no dishes.”