Page 2

TWO

AMOS

After checking to see if my sibling Sage had replied to my text about their ETA—they hadn’t—I scanned the room for the cutie in the Bob Ross costume. I didn’t normally go for the denim-on-denim look, but something about him had made my gaze linger.

When I couldn’t spot his curly hair, I turned my attention back to my drink.

The bartender stood across from me, pouring a beer with one hand while shaking a cocktail in the other.

I appreciated that most of the staff had dressed up for Halloween.

The bartender wore a pirate costume with a brown vest, maroon striped pants, and a red bandanna around his head.

He expertly flirted with everyone while slinging drinks.

“Can I get you another?” he asked.

“I’ll wait till my sibling gets here. Thanks. But I wouldn’t mind a water.” Hopefully, Sage arrived soon so they could hold my spot while I ran to the restroom. Beer always made me need to pee.

“You got it.”

I’d been lucky to get a stool at the bar before it had filled up. People stood around the bar at least one person deep, which made it tough to see the rest of the pub and Bob Ross.

I wondered if I’d know who he was here with. That was the danger of going out in your hometown. Though since I’d moved away from Maplewood after high school—what, fifteen years ago—there were a lot of people I no longer recognized.

“Here you go. Love the costume, by the way. I always had a soft spot for Garth.” The bartender set a glass of water in front of me and winked before moving on to another customer.

“Thanks,” I called after him, but I doubted he heard it with the loud music. It was a good band with a fun mix of classic and modern covers.

Sage and I were obsessed with classic Saturday Night Live episodes when we were kids.

I loved them even when I didn’t understand the jokes because it was fun to have a special thing between my sibling and me.

We’d worn these costumes a couple of times when we were younger.

It was sweet that Sage had suggested we bring them out of retirement since I was back in town for Halloween this year.

I scratched at my mullet wig. The thing had gotten itchier in the years it had sat in the Flynn family costume trunk.

I hoped Sage arrived soon because my costume worked much better with Wayne next to me.

Fortunately, I’d found an old pair of jeans when I’d raided my parents’ house the other night for a costume.

Un fortunately, I’d nearly ripped them apart when my toe snagged on a hole while sliding them on earlier.

They were, uh, on their last leg. Ba-dum-ch.

They definitely needed to be tossed after tonight.

My phone lit up.

Sage: Sorry, I got caught up. On my way.

Translation: they were still working but might wrap up soon. Sage loved the diner as much as my parents did. The three Sparky’s Diner peas in a pod. Then there was me—the odd one out who’d left Maplewood for a career outside the family business.

Amos: C’mon, Wayne. I’m ready to party on.

It was weird sitting in a pub in my hometown, nursing a beer.

I’d gone out for a drink with Sage a couple of times over the years when I’d come back for weekend or holiday visits, but I hadn’t gotten used to it.

Mostly because when I did come back from Boston for a visit, I spent time at the diner with my family.

I kept waiting for someone from high school to strike up a conversation, but the glasses and wig made a good disguise. My curly blond hair was my most recognizable feature, and with that covered, I got to enjoy some anonymity.

Tapping my foot to the beat of a Queen song, I felt someone brush against my arm. It had already happened a few times with the crowd, but out of habit, I turned toward the person.

“I’ve always thought pralines and dick sounded like a decent ice cream flavor, but then again, I’m of the pro-dick persuasion.”

I was so distracted by the up-close-and-personal treat to Bob Ross’s endearing smile that it took me a second to clock the Wayne’s World reference. I barely held back my laughter. “Pro-dick persuasion? That’s a new one.” Gotta love the openness in Vermont’s queerest town.

Bob tilted his head. “You know, that might be the weirdest thing I’ve ever said to a stranger. It sounded better in my head.”

Under a wig nearly as ridiculous as mine, Bob’s eyes were warm and kind.

The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth told me his smiles came easy and often.

I wonder if he does too. It had been a while since I’d had sex, but it was the last thing I needed to be thinking about while crashing in my hometown until I figured out my crumbling life.

Sage would arrive soon anyway, but damn.

This guy was promising. There was something about Bob that had me turning my body toward him as much as I could manage at the crowded bar.

He stood half-squeezed between me and the person sitting on the stool to my left.

I leaned in. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard weirder things in bars. One time, these two guys almost got into a brawl fighting over whether dinosaurs had nipples.”

Bob Ross pulled a face. “Obviously, they don’t. Lizards don’t have nipples because they aren’t mammals.”

I didn’t remember high school biology that well, but he said it with such conviction that I believed him without question.

“Pralines-dick ice cream and dinosaur nipples. What other weird things can we squeeze into this conversation?”

Bob leaned his elbow on the bar and lowered his voice to a sultry rumble. “What are your thoughts on Bigfoot? Epic hoax or hide-and-seek world champ?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, and he didn’t seem to mind, judging by the twinkle in his eyes and the way his attention lingered on my mouth.

If this was how Bob flirted, I wanted more.

His energy put me at ease while making me want to lean in close and pretend like there was no one else at the bar.

I’d had hookups in Boston start with far less memorable conversations.

“Are you kidding? I wanted to be a cryptozoologist as a kid. I used to think it would be fun to road trip around the Pacific Northwest and visit the alleged Bigfoot haunts. There’s a North American Bigfoot Center in a town called Boring, Oregon.

Peak road trip stop.” Though dull adulting things now consumed most of the brain space I used to dedicate to whimsical stuff like mystical and mysterious creatures roaming Earth.

Bob’s eyes lit up. “Seriously? A museum and a town called Boring? That sounds amazing. I’m a definite believer too. Why not? It’s fun to think—” He paused, tilted his head, and stared in the distance. “What’s the plural of Bigfoot?”

“Bigfeet? Huh. I don’t know.” Why was nerding out on cryptids working on me better than the slickest pickup lines?

He nodded once as though it were decided. “It’s fun to think that we exist in a world with creatures like Bigfeet and even our local cryptid Mabel out lurking in among the trees around here. Much more fun than being a nonbeliever.”

“Those should be shunned.” I elongated the last word out of habit after watching the Charlie the Unicorn videos a ridiculous number of times back in high school.

Bob’s rich laughter sent flutters through my belly. “God, I loved those videos. I did a research project on the Liopleurodon in high school because of those.”

That tickled a memory in my brain, but I couldn’t place it.

The person on the stool on Bob’s other side vacated it, so he slid onto it and turned toward me, pressing his knee against mine.

“Are you waiting for someone? I can hold the seat until they get here.”

I couldn’t help my flirty smile. “My sibling is supposed to join me, but they’re running late. I’m glad for the company.”

“Please tell me they’re dressing as Wayne.”

“Of course. Are you meeting anyone dressed as a canvas on an easel?”

Bob tsked. “Dang. That would be a great couple’s costume, but alas, no. Met some friends, but they’re all playing darts with their partners. I volunteered to get the beer.”

I couldn’t shake the familiar feeling about Bob, but he was probably just a local who’d been a few years ahead of or behind me in school, whom I had a vague memory of.

If it weren’t so crowded, I’d be able to see his friends, which might give me a clue.

Or maybe he’d moved to town after I left Maplewood and the familiarity was simply my attraction to him.

I lifted my eyebrows and pointedly glanced at the empty bar in front of him.

He smiled wryly. “They can wait.”

It boosted my ego that he seemed to be enjoying our conversation as much as I was.

Normally, by this point in flirting with a guy, I would’ve asked for his name, but I was enjoying the Garth and Bob thing we had going.

I never thought I could be anonymous in Maplewood, where it seemed like everyone recognized me because of my family’s diner.

This felt like being back at a random bar in Boston.

Since Bob wasn’t asking for my name either, I figured the anonymity worked for him too.

The band began a killer rendition of “Let’s Dance” by David Bowie.

It drew my attention, making me think of my childhood best friend, Bowie, named after the singer.

I hadn’t reached out to him yet, but I wanted to get some quality time with him while I was in town.

I’d been here for a couple of weeks and my reaching out was overdue.

Typically I was only in town for a couple of days for holidays and didn’t make time to meet up with old friends.

Given how busy I heard he was with his city government job, I needed to be the one to reach out.

“The live music is always great here,” Bob said while glancing toward the band, but it was impossible to see them through the crowd.

“It’s a regular thing? That’s cool. It’s my first time here.” Under the new ownership, at least.