Page 147 of The Scientist
“It’s your nervous tick,” I reminded him.
He smiled. “Remember when we saw Phil Collins in the elevator at the Skylark?”
“How could I forget?” I said, grinning. “You broke out into a cold sweat and ended up challenging him to a thumb war.”
“It was all I could think to say!”
I laughed. “You couldn’t come up with anything better than trying to declare a thumb war?”
“He had abnormally small thumbs. It was a no-brainer,” he stated. “I think he was about to accept the challenge if his security wouldn’t have body-checked me into the wall.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I said, chuckling. “But I appreciate your commitment to your own idea of reality.”
He burst into laughter, and I couldn’t help but join in. A frenzy of emotions came rushing back to me at the sound of our combined laughter. I remembered how easy this was…how much he made me laugh… how good he was to me. I took another large sip of my Manhattan, the sweetness of the bourbon lingering on my tongue.
After that icebreaker, both the conversation and drinks flowed easily for the rest of the evening. The more we reminisced, the more I lost count of the number of drinks I’d had. We ended up at a karaoke bar in Midtown, where I surprised myself by jumping on stage to sing a medley of Britney hits as the crowd cheered and sang along. I handed the mic back to the MC once my time was up, and Garrett helped me down from the stage.
“Next up we have Garrett Lawson coming to the stage,” the MC announced, and I looked over at Garrett wide-eyed. We both knew he couldn’t carry a tune. He winked at me before he ran onto the stage.
“Looks like he’ll be singingIn the Air Tonightby Phil Collins,” the MC said. “A classic!”
I started choking with laughter as Garrett took the mic and began his off-key performance. The drinks had made him a little too confident as each “Oh Lord”begansounding more like shrieking than singing. Booing started up from the crowd, and I motioned for him that it was time to wrap it up, but he continued on. The MC came up and tried to wrestle the microphone away from him, but he held it up out of his reach.
“Has anyone else ever noticed Phil Collins’ thumbs?” Garrett said, still holding the mic out of reach. “Anyone?”
That’s when I noticed security coming.
“Let’s go!” I called out to Garrett between fits of laughter. He downed the rest of his drink before tossing the mic over, and we ran out of the club.
“That was awful,” I told him as we stumbled onto the subway, drawing annoyed looks from everyone around us as we continued giggling like idiots.
“What do you mean?” he asked, leaning against the handrail. “The crowd was going wild!”
“I think they were looking for one of those long hooks to pull you off stage.”
“I beg your biggest pardon.” He put his hand on his chest. “The MC told me I was really going places.”
“I think he meant jail for holding his mic hostage,” I said, making Garrett throw his head back in laughter.
I leaned my head against the handrail, looking over at him. His bright blue eyes were shining with amusement as we gazed at one another. I couldn’t tell if what I was feeling was true happiness. I could barely remember what that felt like these days, but it seemed close.
After he insisted on walking me the rest of the way home—if you could call it walking, since it more closely resembled stumbling—I stood outside my doorway, suddenly overcome with exhaustion.
“Thanks for tonight, Garrett,” I said to him. “I’m glad we did this.”
And I meant it. Maybe we could pull off being friends after all. It was the most fun I’d had since…
He leaned against my doorway and nodded.
I began to sway as the jetlag and alcohol really started catching up to me, and I knew it was time to call it a night.
“Well, goodnight,” I said as I made my way inside.
Before I could shut the door, I heard Garrett say, “I lied to you, Hadley.”
I turned to look at him. “About?”
“I said I moved on,” he said with a serious look on his face. “But I haven’t. I still love you just as much as I did before you left… Maybe more.”