"Can I ask you a question?" Edward is looking at me across the table top at Buffalo Wild Wings as I shove a flat into my mouth and pull a clean bone out. I take a moment to chew and swallow before answering.

"As long as it's not about how I do that," I tell him as I wipe at my mouth, and he grimaces. "It's like tying a cherry stem with your tongue; it's hard to teach."

"No. Jesus." He gulps down the rest of his beer. "I was going to ask about Jake. I know he's your best friend, but we've known each other for what, two years now? He's a good guy, but he's not the best friend to you … or anyone really. Jake's only interested in taking care of Jake. How did you guys become friends? Was it a proximity thing? Is he like a Russian spy, and if I say 'nutmeg', you'll snap out of it?"

I snort. "Who are you? Ben Wyatt? Calm down. Jake may not always act like the best friend, but you know what he's really good at? Not busting my balls because I'm a terrible friend."

"I doubt you're a terrible friend," Edward says, and I shrug.

"I'm bad at the connecting thing."

"The what?" he asks.

"You know, making contact, staying in touch. That sort of thing." I look down to where my hands rest on the table, and Edward chuckles.

"Can we get another pitcher over here?" Edward smiles at our waitress, taking his time to chat her up a little before turning his attention back onto me. "So, you're not the best at that, and you're best friends with Jake by default because, why? He puts up with it? Or he ignores it and enables it?"

"Maybe both?" I finish my beer as the waitress approaches with a fresh pitcher and clears away some of our dishes. "He just never let me feel bad if I didn't call him first … or often. Everyone else always did."

Edward sighs. "Okay, snaps for Jacob. Why does that make him your best friend? Surely, there has to be someone else you've known longer or are closer to who would hit those markers for you."

I shrug. "That's the thing; there's no one else. Jake and I grew up together, but we got closer when he did a few years of college before he joined the Navy. You know he really wanted to join, but he wasn't sure it was the right choice." Edward nods in agreement, and I continue. "So, we met and we became friends because even when I didn't keep up after him and he didn't keep up after me, we could run into each other after long periods, and it was like no time had passed."

"What else?" Edward eyes me over the mountain of wing carcasses.

"What else, what?"

"I dunno, I just feel like there's more to it than that. I know you were there for him when he came out and his parents practically disowned him, but … never mind." He waves a hand between us, trying to clear the air.

"No, go on. What is it?" Now I'm curious. Apparently, Edward pays attention. This bitch is astute.

"Well, you remember the last guy he dated, right? Seth? Remember how he just dropped off the face of the earth, and no one really saw him? That's not a good friend. You showed up at the house looking for him because you two hadn't spoken in four months. That's who you picked as your best friend … by default." Edward looks at me pointedly, and I sigh.

"I hate to admit it, but you make a good point. I—"

"You don't have a boyfriend. In the whole two years I've known you, you've never had one … or even a guy you were sorta seeing. What's up? Are you in love with Jake? Is that what this is?"

"Ugh, no." I take a drink from my glass with a grimace. "Maybe I'm gay."

"Are you? That'd be hot." He raises an eyebrow and stares at me until I laugh.

"No, I'm just … picky? Jake knows this, but not a lot of other people know this about me, so don't say anything." I lean closer to him over the table.

"Who would I tell? You admittedly have very few friends." He leans closer to me.

"Shut up." I roll my eyes. "I got married when I was really young. Like, eighteen years old young. We didn't know each other at all, and it didn't work out because we were kids who had no idea what we were doing."

"So, that's why you don't date?"

"No, that's why I'm so picky." The clarification is important. "I go on a lot of first dates, Edward. Make no mistake."

"I've never … two weeks ago? You were in that strappy purple dress. That was a date?" His eyes bug out a little, and I hope it's because he remembers how good I looked in that dress.

"Yes, it was. A coworker. His name is Mike." I offer up the information to fill in the blanks.

"And? Are you going to see him again?"

I scrunch my nose. "Uh, no."

He pours himself another beer. "Why not? What was wrong with him?"

"He didn't have a chin." I pick up my own glass, taking a large drink.

"No chin? As in …"

"He obviously had a chin, but if you had given him one of those pointy party hats, you know the one with the—"

"With the string, sure." Edward is nodding and trying to hide a smile.

"Well, if he had worn one, the little strappy thing would have rolled up and slapped him in the face." I give him a pointed look, finishing off my beer before pouring another and grabbing a celery stick.

I can see him mouth the word "wow" before drinking down the rest of his beer and pouring another. "Picky. Okay."

I stick my tongue out at him. "We can't all run through people like tissues, Edward."

"Every woman I'm with knows exactly what the deal is. There's no real shot at a future with me, and they don't seem to care." He shrugs.

"What about that girl from a few months ago? Kitty? Catty? Kathy?"

"Her name was Kate, and you should remember since you got into a fight with her." Edward chuckles as our waitress comes by, and he orders another pitcher and a couple of shots.

"I didn't get into a fight with her. She picked a fight with me, Edward. Big difference. Ladies don't start fights, but they sure can finish them," I quote "The Aristocats" and chuck a chicken wing across the table at him, and he catches it deftly, midair.

Kate was brought back for seconds, thirds, and if I recall correctly, a weekend away because the hot tub in the backyard is off limits. She somehow thought that meant she was his girlfriend or a part of his regular rotation. When she showed up on our doorstep, begging to be let in, she met me. I refused to let her in, and it got a little carried away.

"Sure, Marie. She was crazy anyway, so no skin off my back." He shrugs, and I laugh, humorlessly.

"Why do guys always do that? 'She was crazy, man. Dodged a bullet'. I mean, Kate was a little nutty, but still. Why do you guys always go negative?"

"I usually don't, so I don't know. Kate was crazy though. It was kinda hot watching you two fight though." He winks, and I can feel the heat rush into my cheeks.

"Oh my god, stop! I can't believe that even happened."

"Actually, I thought about asking you out after that, but then I had to go on that three-month underway, so I didn't." He shrugs and looks up to one of the twenty screens playing various sports, and it gives me a moment to go slack jawed.

"I always thought you were cute; I probably would've said yes," I say finally. The waitress chooses that moment to drop off our shots, and I pick mine up and slam it back quickly. "Ugh, tequila? I might die tonight."

Edward has brought his gaze back down to me. "You think I'm gorgeous. You wanna date me," he starts his singsong, and I laugh. "Missed opportunity, huh?"

"I guess so."

Edward pushes his shot toward me, and I eye him warily. "Have you ever been two-stepping?"

I shake my head and slowly pick up the shot glass. "I'm gonna need this, huh?"

Edward nods and waves our waitress over to grab the check. "I know the perfect place. Do you trust me to drive?"

"Not really." I shoot him my best apologetic look, and he nods.

"No worries; I'll call an Uber." Edward drops some cash onto the table with the receipt and helps me off the high stool I'm sitting on.

"I'm not drunk," I say as I quietly thank him and slide my cardigan back on. "I'm going to run to the restroom and wash my hands."

Just walking to the bathroom, I can tell that I've already had more than my share to drink. I don't drink much anyway, but talking and having a good time with Edward made me stop paying attention. Usually, when I go out with Jake, I have to be the designated driver. I hate it; I never have any fun, and he always ditches me by the end of the night.

I wash my hands and splash a little water on my face, looking into the mirror, I see a girl looking for some fun tonight … maybe even some trouble.