I start laughing, almost so much I can’t speak. “What, so you can check the fridge temp from your phone? Shouldn’t it just be cold?”
Matthew is rolling, leaning against my shoulder.
Amir is beside himself, pointing and building an argument through the noise. “It’s brilliant.” He smacks the table with an open palm. “You can check the inventory of your fridge when you’re at the store. Be alerted if something goes wrong.”
I hardly let him finish his sentence when I’m adding, “What about the wifi toothbrush? Like anyone really wants to see their brushing stats?”
The group erupts into laughter, Matthew is grabbing my forearm and pounding the table, and suddenly Joacim is offended: “I check my stats every day!” He’s screaming over thenoise, “It’s calculated into my Healthometer! And look at my teeth.” He flashes broad pearly whites at us with an awkward lip curl.
We’re nearly rolling on the floor and everyone seems to have something to add about the toothbrush. It’s so much I can’t follow. Before we know it, the waitress is back and has brought nothing with her. We stop laughing long enough to hear what she has to say.
“You guys are messing with me,” she says, then turns to Matthew, “There is no such thing as a fourth floor.” The table erupts again, slapping and laughing and pointing.
Matthew hangs his head slightly and then says, “We’ll just have a round of lagers for the whole table instead. This one’s on me.”
There’s shoulder clapping and thanks giving and pointing as the waitress turns to go. I can’t stop laughing, and I can’t even remember the drink I ordered earlier. Matthew looks at me, a bit of defeat and elation mixed together. I smile back, feeling my teeth shine, thinking of wifi toothbrushes.
I’m nearly exhausted from laughing so much, and I’m impressed that these guys haven’t mentioned work a single time since we got here, although you can’t escape the fact that they’re all engineers. The table is piled with empty dishes and glasses of all kinds and I think we’ve debated most every unnecessary topic we could find. Max took his leave of the table long ago, and now Amir and Joacim are declaring their need to get home. We exchange handshakes and shoulder pats and traditional goodbyes and then Matthew and I are left alone at the table. The noise of the bar has changed, and we can hear the background music as the room itself has become more quiet.
“I’m glad you joined us tonight,” Matthew begins. “You’re a lot of fun.”
“Me too,” I confess mostly to my empty glass. “And you too, I mean.”
There’s a moment’s pause before he sighs, “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.” He fidgets with a napkin as he speaks.
I think about this. “I’m not really a ‘group of guys’ kind of person,” I reply slowly, wondering if the words are actually true or just muscle-memory, “but I’m glad I came. Thanks for inviting me. The guys are great.”
Matthew stops fidgeting and just stares at me with a half-smile. He exhales through his nose and I see his gaze lock on my forearm. My skin feels the burn of his eyes and I tuck my arm under the table in my lap. He smiles a full smile and then looks away.
Together we sit, fingers fidgeting on whatever the table casually provides, and let the low murmur of the bar settle between us. The quiet provides a warm contrast to the echoing laughter of the evening.
Eventually Matthew leans over and whispers: “Do you like dares?”
No. I do not like dares, but I find myself saying, “Sure.”
“How good are you at spycraft?”
“What?”
“Being a spy?” He’s still whispering. I blink slowly as he continues, “Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to leave the bar with me as if you’re a spy.”
I stare at him unblinking for a minute, then look down at my watch, pressing buttons on it with my thumb and index finger, then say in the most serious tone I can muster, “I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point, then.”
He smiles brightly, then straightens. “Copy.”
He immediately stands, turns, and heads to the bar, presumably to pay his tab. He leans in to whisper something tothe waitress and points at a random table across the room. His face looks serious and quickly hers matches.
I leave cash on the table, grab a cardboard coaster and head toward the door, straightening my shirt as I go. I see Matthew has stopped at the front door, has turned to face the room with one hand on a hip, jacket pulled open, and is watching me. I place the coaster on a table in front of a gentleman I don’t know, look him in the eye and say, “The ibis has clearance. You know what to do,” and then head directly toward the door, flanking Matthew as he opens it and we step out into the blue-gray lights of the parking lot. We march twenty steps into the glowing light when Matthew suddenly breaks, throws his arm around my shoulder and slaps his hand on my chest. The movement is friendly and warm and I welcome it.
“What did you say to him?” He’s laughing and hanging on.
“I activated the codeword,” I say straight-faced.
He’s laughing so hard he can’t hold on to me anymore and steps away staggering and beaming.
“What did you say to her?” I ask trying not to smile.
“I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you,” he says through hysterical laughter.