Page 10 of Unreasonably Yours

Stunning. Simply stunning. The low neck of her dress exposes her chest, the shadow of her collar bones, the curve of her shoulders, the peonies tumbling down her arms. My mind is flooded with memories of how her skin feels under my fingers and how much I want to see that deep crimson lipstick smeared across her face.

“Yeah.” My tongue feels too big for my mouth.

“Going somewhere?” Lucy asks the two of us.

“No,” I shake my head both for emphasis and in a useless attempt to clear my thoughts. “Just getting more drinks.”

“We already did that,” Lucy says.

“I'm Oliver.” He holds out a hand to Toni.

She takes it, smiling warmly. “Toni.”

Oliver returns to his seat, but I seem unable to move.

“You wanna sit so Toni can join us, or are you just gonna stand there?” Lucy asks.

I glare at her even though I'm grateful the question makes my body take action. Sliding back into the booth, I press myself as far into the corner as possible to avoid crowding Toni.

“I am so sorry,” I whisper to her when she sits.

“Don't be.” Her perfume teases my nose, I want to lean closer, pick out the notes, ask her what she likes about the scent. “Unless this is weird and?—”

“No!” I say a bit too fast, so grateful for the server distracting the others with our drink order. “Not at all. I just don't want you to think I sent my friend over to harass you.”

“I made it clear this was a Lucy decision and not a Cillian one,” Lucy interjects.

“It's rude to listen to other people's conversations,” I say.

“First off, you're less than three feet from me. Secondly, she's my new friend.” Lucy passes Toni her cocktail. “Your gin and tonic, love. And Cillian, the usual.”

“Maybe I wanted something else,” I say, accepting the whiskey.

“You didn't,” Lucy says dismissively, passing Oliver his scotch. “Despite making a mean drink, the man almost always gets Jameson. Neat. So reliably Irish.”

“I'm telling Dad you're besmirching our people.”

Lucy laughs. “Not your people, just you.” She winks. “Besides, Mickey could never be mad at me.”

“You know she's right,” Oliver says.

I couldn't argue. My parents had always viewed my best friends as bonus kids, but when Lucy came out to them as trans, they tripped over themselves with delight at finally having a daughter.

I wouldn't have it any other way. The only issue was that now they were likely to side with Lucy on most things.

Lucy presses a hand to her chest, beaming. “That's the second time you've said those words tonight, Oliver.”

“What was the first?” Toni asks.

“Some nonsense,” I say quickly. “What're we toasting?”

Lucy smiles at Toni. “To new friends.”

“I'll drink to that.” Toni meets Lucy's warmth without an ounce of hesitation.

“Sláinte!” Oliver raises his glass.

“Have y'all known each other a while?” Toni asks, casting a glance around the table.

“Only thirty years,” Lucy answers.

“Thirty-one,” Oliver corrects. “You two met in kindergarten, and I came in first, remember?”

“Aww, that's right.” Lucy leans her head on Oliver's shoulder. “Then I had two idiots to protect.”

“I take offense to that,” Oliver says, pushing her off him.

“And if you're wondering what a glorious thing like me is doing protecting the likes of these two.” Lucy leans conspiratorially toward Toni. “Just know it was far funnier when everyone thought I was just a scrawny twink and not a raging dyke.”

Toni is not a person who laughs in half measures. It’s rich and boisterous. The kind of laugh that sends its ripples through the people around her, leaving traces of her joy in its wake. I have the ridiculous thought that if it were the last thing I ever heard, I’d go out happy.

“I feel like you're implying we're cowards,” I say.

“Not cowards. Just gentle giants,” Lucy clarifies.

“I wouldn't say I'm a giant,” Oliver protests.

Lucy playfully squeezes his bicep, “Close enough.”

“If they're gentle giants, what does that make you?” Toni asks Lucy.

“She's more of a feral cat,” I say.

“Rude,” Lucy says.

“But very true,” Oliver agrees.

“You see the abuses I endure.”

“It's ok-” Toni extends a hand to Lucy- “I happen to adore cats.”

Lucy smirks. “How much do you like cats?” The implication is not subtle.

“Lucy,” I chide.

“What? I'm just asking how much the lady likes cats.”

Toni laughs. “I like cats, dogs, the occasional rabbit. I'm an equal opportunity... animal lover.” Toni grimaces. “This metaphor has too many uncomfortable implications.”

“No wonder you and Cillian hit it off. Like calls to like and all that.” She turns to Oliver. “Still the only heterosexual. Sorry, buddy.”

“Whatever shall I do?” Oliver sighs. He looks at Toni, “Cillian told us about that prick at the bar when you guys met, on behalf of my fellow heterosexuals, I do apologize.”

Toni shrugs, “At least it's a good story.”

“Oh, that's nothing,” Lucy interjects. “You should hear the really colorful bar tales.”

“Remember the incident with the guy who got his cock stuck in?— ”

“Let's not.” I cut Oliver off with a laugh.

“Oh no.” Toni turns to me, incredulous. “Beginning a story with 'cock stuck in' and not finishing is cruel and unusual.” Her big brown eyes are expectant.

I sigh. “Some drunk moron during St. Patrick's Day went into the bathroom and tried, inexplicably, to put his dick in a beer bottle.”

“Tried, but I'm assuming did not actually succeed?” I raise my brows. “No,” she shakes her head.

“Yup.” I nod, taking a sip of whiskey. “Managed to get enough in that it got stuck.”

“Oh my god,” Toni says with a horrified laugh. “And how did this come to your attention?”

“Someone complained about a man sobbing in the stall.”

“I'd sob,” Oliver says.

“You wouldn't stick your dick in a bottle,” Lucy says.

“Fair.”

“So I go in and sure enough this man is on the floor, pants down?—”

“Cock partially in a bottle,” Toni finishes.

“Cock in a bottle,” I confirm. “Found his friends, and they insisted we not call the EMS, I assume to save his dignity.”

“True friendship,” Toni says.

I nod. “They tied a jacket around his waist and disappeared into the night.”

“It haunts me that we'll never know what happened to ol' bottle cock,” Oliver sighs.

“Any other harrowing tales?” Toni asks.

Lucy immediately launches into another story from the Two Sons’ archives.

“Now every June we host a charity walk-off.”

“Just a bunch of old men in heels, it's amazing,” Oliver adds.

“And did that guy's knee ever heal?” Toni asks, choking back a laugh.

“No clue,” I say. “My dad told him he'd break the other if he ever caught him in his bar again.”

“And while Mickey is the nicest man alive, do not fuck with him,” Lucy says. “Oh shit!” She looks at her phone. “We gotta go.”

I glance at my watch. We should have headed over to the bar five minutes ago.

“Well, thank you for the drink and the quality entertainment,” Toni says, scooting out.

“Uh, you're coming,” Lucy says as if it's the most obvious thing.

“I am?”

“Of course you are.” Oliver steps aside, allowing Lucy to hook her arm through Toni's.

Toni looks back at me, face colored with surprise and not a small amount of delight. I chuckle awkwardly and mouth, “Sorry,” as Lucy whisks her out the door.