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"It was the eighties," he reasons "Casual sex was fine; encouraged, even But when I met Julie, I just knew she was it for roan

"--or that I would have irl who ca me to rand you need to settle down if you don’t feel it" He pauses, adding, "You’ll just fuck it up if you don’t o wide My dad doesn’t swear I oes to church every Sunday, says "dang it" instead of "da Chargers games To say he’s polite is an understatement

"Thanks, Dad"

But he’s not done "In the sairl, then tell her Try to win her I e, and I never looked back Not for a single second"

I look up at Dad and try to ier version of hiet up at dawn and surf for a few hours before work One ould co in her ear that le and swat at hiood I think of hih while he drives, how he’ll never go up to bed without her, the way he listens to her talk about her day while she cooks, with absolutely no distraction--no phone, no television, no newspaper He sits at the breakfast bar and listens with intent while she rambles on about whatever happened that day in the world of oceanography at Scripps

They’re ether--I honestly can’t think of theut--but they’re also best friends

I want that

I want soeswithin reach while I drive I want to wait until so around the house before we head to bed I need to be soh to spill the details of her day

I blink, shakingwith me?

"DO YOU LIVE here?" I pull out a stool at the bar and sit down, placing my phone facedown in front of me I drove here on autopilot, and when I parked, I told myself it was because Fred’s is only a mile or so from my place and my parents’ place--it’s convenient

It’s not that I was hoping she orking again and wanted to see her

I just want a beer And I’ hoives me a wan smile "I could ask you the same question"

"Touché" She ss I like about you, Dimples" I slide a dollar bill into her jar

"That I live in a bar?" she asks Her dimples flash when her s strange happens inside et aith shit And I like that you’re never actually mean when you call me out"

This surprises her I can tell in the way her eyes widen and her dimples vanish

"Well," she says when she’s recovered, "maybe the amount of shit you try to pull is so epic it’s easy to pick the low-hanging fruit"

"Again," I say, laughing "Touché But reht"

London nods as she wipes the bar in front of me and then drops a coaster down I try to interpret her expression; was she disappointed? "Can I get you a beer?"

"Actually," I say, perusing the bar behind her, "I think I’ over a new leaf I’ll have an amaretto sour Dylan swears you make the best ones on the planet I’d like to learn to appreciate them"