The vinyl bench always felt bigger when he was sharing with Ted. The only words they've exchanged outside of his favorite game are hellos, but there she is, inches away, so close her leg accidentally brushes his when she crosses them. Icy gulps of beer as he tries to ignore an involuntary shudder. The conversation drifts to the stranger at the bar, straddled by his most recent conquest. "What does he have that I don't?"
"A date tonight." She doesn't miss a beat and he nearly drops his beer.
"Rewind and repeat."
"A date tonight." This time she beams, all shining teeth and brimming confidence. She revels in his momentary, stunned silence and, suddenly, he's intrigued. A challenge indeed. Who is this girl?
"I'm not sure I like her." But he can't keep a smile from splitting his face. A playful shrug, searching eyes staring down his soul. The table erupts. She shrugs again and mouths, "Come on." Half a smile. A wink.
Because they both know it's not true, because he's never met anyone who can keep up, and because she doesn't miss a beat. She uncrosses her legs, brushing his own, and he covers the shudder with a laugh as she leaves to get the next round. He watches her go, still a little stunned, and unable to shake the feeling he's overlooked something important.
Barney can't hear her at the bar, playing his favorite game, but as she sits back down, Ted knows, deep in a hidden corner of his heart that can still see through the haze of love and pipe dreams and sweet smelling perfume, that there are an extra six inches of untouched vinyl on either side of that bench, and that, when she brushes Barney's thigh crossing her legs, she steals a glance to her right and he laughs just a little too loudly to be totally convincing.
