Free Better Than Chance by Lane Hayes

looks, like he couldn’t quite understand me.
    “What are you having, Reynolds?”
    “Jay,” I reminded him, giving the pretty waitress a big grin.
    “Hi, Jay.” She beamed at me. Oh brother. “What can I get you?”
    “I’ll have a… let me think. Tell me about the sake selection, please. I can never remember which one I prefer.”
    Our cheerful waitress set her hands on one hip in a flirtatious manner before she began a recitation of the bar’s impressive selection. She was one of those overly touchy types, and I was beginning to regret having asked as the list seemed to never end and my shoulder was beginning to feel bruised. I made a choice and she finally left our table, giving me a wink and a big smile. I turned to the sound of Peter’s deep soft chuckle.
    “What is so funny?” I asked with my own eyebrows raised in question as I rubbed my shoulder.
    “You.” His smile was kind, and his beautiful eyes sparkled with warmth. He was dazzling. I shook my head, willing my libido to behave.
    “Me? How? How was I to know there are thirty-plus different sakes and each has a slight nuance that blah blah blah…?”
    Peter laughed out loud this time and raised his beer glass to me in a toast.
    “You might just order a beer next time,” he sagely advised.
    “Sure. But then I’d have to decide if I want imported or domestic, tap or bottle, local brew or….”
    “Okay, okay. I get it.” His eyes were still twinkling with humor. I couldn’t help smiling in response. “Can I ask you something?”
    I nodded, quietly thanking the waitress when she set the bottle of sake in front of me.
    “Aaron isn’t coming tonight, is he?”
    I had just taken a sip of the sake, so his timing couldn’t have been better, or worse, actually. I swallowed what I could, choking with the effort while unfortunately dousing the table with a portion of my Japanese beverage. I struggled to regain my composure, using my napkin to dry my eyes as I took a sip of the water Peter pushed in my direction. Heat rushed to my face. I was mortified.
    “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to….” I managed to choke out.
    I gave in to curiosity when I was met with silence and lifted my head to meet Peter’s intense gaze. I couldn’t read him, but he didn’t appear to be disgusted. Simply thoughtful… most likely wondering how he got saddled with a moron like me at a posh restaurant after several days of traveling. The guy had to be exhausted. He didn’t look it, but this had to be the last place he wanted to be.
    “Um….” I tried again, this time holding eye contact.
    “Don’t worry, Reynolds. No harm, no foul.” He offered another smile and I clung to it like a lifeline.
    “Why do you insist on calling me by my last name? That’s what guys do when they’re on a team in high school. It reminds me of my brothers’ friends calling them out. It was always ‘Hey, Reynolds!’. You know what I mean?” He gave me a funny smile but didn’t say a word. “Well, just do me a favor, please, and call me by my first name.”
    “I can do that. But is it Jay or John? I saw when you were first listed as a candidate to work on the solar energy project that your name is John.” His voice was thick with humor, but I didn’t think he was laughing at me. Instead, I think I entertained him, and I found I didn’t mind that so much. I could be very entertaining indeed.
    “My birth certificate and all other legal documents list my name as John, the name my parents gave me. My mom calls me Johnny, but everyone else—and I mean everyone —calls me Jay. I don’t know where or when it started. Maybe they were too lazy to say John? Nah, that doesn’t make sense. Like I said, who knows?”
    Peter chuckled again. “So, Jay it is.”
    “Yeah.” I was sheepish and now feeling a little silly about my name outburst.
    “Where are you from? I hear a southern accent every once in a while, but I can’t make it out exactly.”
    “I’m from Virginia.