“You just answered your own question, John,” Marissa said, taking his empty beer bottle away and replacing it with a water. He’d thought that she’d preternaturally predicted his reticence to have a second beer, but then he realized that happy hour was now over and Marissa knew that John categorically refused to purchase full-price beer. “Cocky assholes are irresistible.”

“I have not found that to be true in my own experience,” John replied, comfortable with these kinds of conversations with Marissa after almost five years of coming to Fellow’s on Friday nights. “I’m a cocky asshole and women pretty much flee from me.”

Sometimes literally. The image of Mary striding out of the restaurant flashed through his mind. He’d felt like such an utter dolt standing there, watching her go. But could he blame her? He could not.

“You’re not a cocky asshole,” Richie chimed in, apparently recovered enough from his unexpected interaction with his crush to be able to speak again. “You’re a self-assured dick. Whole other animal. Highly repellant.”

“I’m a self-assured—What the hell is the difference?”

“The difference is that a cocky asshole knows he’s an asshole and uses his assholish swagger to charm and otherwise assert sexual dominance,” Marissa said, pushing her glasses up her nose. She’d once told John that she’d studied anthropology at SUNY Downstate, and John could suddenly see that aspect of her intellect sparklingly clearly. “Self-assured dicks don’t even realize they’re being dicks until after they’ve hurt everyone’s feelings.”

“Oh.” John frowned. “That...actually sounds pretty accurate.”

“It’s like the difference between watching a circus dude juggle fire and watching a dragon breathe fire,” Richie mused. “One of them is doing it for a show and one of them is doing it because he was born that way.”

“Are you telling me that I was born a dick?”

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket but ignored it.

Richie tipped his head from one side to the other. “Well, the jury’s still out on nature versus nurture. All I know is that scowl of yours isn’t there by choice. You’re a dick, John. Accept it.”

John shook his head good-naturedly and let the conversation move on to bigger and better topics.

I was expecting someone younger.

His own words played in his head and he was grateful that Richie and Marissa had one another’s attention and didn’t see the grimace his face pulled into when he remembered what he’d said to Mary when he first met her. What an idiot.