He can find me later. I have to get back to the table before Theodore realizes how pathetic I am. I follow Amber back to the booth, but luckily it’s loud enough that I can’t understand anything she’s saying. I can tell she’s lecturing me, though. We no more than slide back into our booth when Ben pulls up a chair and plops it down at the end of the table. He takes a seat and folds his arms in front of him.
Theodore puts his arm around my shoulders and leans in. “You okay?”
I force a quick smile and a nod, but I give him nothing more, considering Ben looks like he’s about to crawl over the table and rip Theodore’s arm away from my body.
I adjust myself so that Theodore doesn’t think I’m reciprocating his affection. I lean forward, away from his arm, as if I have something I want to say to Amber. Just as I open my mouth, Ben’s hand strokes my knee beneath the table. My eyes swing to Ben’s and he shoots me an innocent look.
Luckily, Glenn steals Theodore’s attention, so he doesn’t notice when my entire body tenses. Ben begins to rake his fingers up my thigh, so I reach beneath the table and flick his hand away. He smiles and leans back in his seat.
“So,” Amber says, turning her attention toward Ben. “Since we all just met you fifteen minutes ago and know absolutely nothing about you, since we’ve never been around you before, because we’re all complete strangers, why don’t you tell us about yourself? What do you do? Theodore says you’re a writer? Are you writing anything interesting? A love story, maybe? How’s that going?”
I kick Amber under the table. Could she be more obvious?
Ben laughs, and now that Amber just spat out the most random question in the world, Theodore and Glenn are both staring at Ben, waiting for him to answer.
“Well,” Ben says, straightening up in his seat. “As a matter of fact, yes. I am a writer. I’ve had a really bad case of writer’s block this year, though. Really terrible. Haven’t written a single word in 365 days. But oddly enough, I think I just had a major breakthrough a few minutes ago.”
“Imagine that,” Amber says, rolling her eyes.
I lean forward, deciding to join in on this cryptic conversation. “You know, Ben. Writer’s block can be a tricky thing. Just because you had a breakthrough a few minutes ago doesn’t mean it’s permanent.”
He pretends to give my comment a moment of thought, but then he shakes his head. “No. No, I know a breakthrough when I have one. And I’m certain that what I experienced a few minutes ago was one of the most mind-blowing breakthroughs known to man.”
I raise an eyebrow. “There’s a fine line between confidence and cockiness.”
Ben matches my expression as his hand returns to my leg under the table, causing me to stiffen. “Well then, I’m straddling that line like it’s the thigh of a long-legged brunette.”
Oh, dear God those words.
Glenn laughs, but Theodore leans forward to get Ben’s attention. “I have an uncle back in Nantucket who had a book published. It’s a pretty hard thing to—”
“Theodore,” Ben says, interrupting him. “You seem like a . . . nice guy.”
“Thanks,” Theodore says, smiling.
“Let me finish,” Ben says, holding up a finger in warning. “Because you’re about to hate me. I lied. I’m not writing a paper.” He points at Glenn. “This guy told me earlier today where to show up tonight so that I could find the girl I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with. And I’m sorry, but that girl just so happens to be your date. And I’m in love with her. Like, really in love with her. Crippling, debilitating, paralyzing love. So please accept my sincerest apologies, because she’s coming home with me tonight. I hope. I pray.” Ben shoots me an endearing look. “Please? Otherwise this speech will make me look like a complete fool and that won’t be good when we tell our grandkids about this.” He holds out his hand for me to take, but I’m as frozen in place as poor Theodore is.