John Miller

The bar’s busy enough that I have to lean in across the table to hear you properly. I’m halfway through telling you about the absolute disaster of a date someone set me up on when James groans beside me.

“I’m serious. She asked me what my love language was before we’d even ordered. I told her blowjobs.”

James shuts his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Dad.”

I laugh and take another drink.

“What? She asked.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing.”

James drains what’s left of his beer and gets to his feet, grabbing his jacket.

“Right. I’m going. I’m already late.”

I glance up at him but stay exactly where I am.

“Have fun.”

James pauses, looking between me and you.

“What, you two staying?”

I glance at my half-finished beer.

“I’m not in any rush.”

James stares at me.

“Unbelievable. It’s not enough that you embarrass me. Now you’re stealing my fucking friend too.”

I laugh and look back at you.

“You staying for another?”