“No problem. As long as you don’t have an issue with people who are.” I don’t miss the way Ben’s eyes flick to Jasper.

On occasion, I’ve seen Jasper in here, but I wasn’t sure if Ben knew. Seems like he does. Another good sign.

“Nope. Not at all.”

I’ve known Ben for only about a week, but everything I’ve discovered so far indicates that he’s a decent guy. I’d still give him my kidney even if he were a jerk. It’s not like having a bad attitude means you should get a death sentence. Still, knowing that my donation will help out a good person eases a stressful clench in my chest that I just realized was there.

My self-reflection is interrupted by the appearance of a very cocky Sammy. “Read ’em and weep, losers.” He throws down a handful of trash on the bar before taking a sip of a drink I definitely did not serve him.

“Sammy”—I use my most motherly tone—“where’d you get that drink?”

He grins around his straw and taps the trash pile. “I have many new friends. They like to give me things.”

Ben picks through the crumpled napkins and paper scraps. “These all have phone numbers on them.”

“That’s right.” Sammy grins and takes another tug on his straw.

“But all the names are guys’ names. Sammy, you’re straight. Remember?” Ben explains in a voice you’d use with a child.

Jasper snorts behind his fist.

Sammy glances at the numbers—I count six—that he’s collected. He appears thoughtful. After a moment, he shrugs and smiles wide again. “Doesn’t matter. Conclusion is still the same.”

“And that is?” Ben’s voice comes out strained, like he’s trying to hold back laughter.

“That Sammy Che is hot!” he declares while flexing some arm muscles that aren’t too shabby.

His buddies both crack up but give him some friendly slaps on the back.

“Okay, we’ve reached the talking in third person threshold. I think it’s time to call it a night.” Jasper pulls out his wallet to pay for the one other whiskey he drank.

“What? Nooo …” Sammy moans while glancing back to the dance floor.

“Yes. Time to go. Actually, it’s time to find you some food to soak up all that fruity liquor you’ve been sucking down. What do you say to a cheesesteak, buddy?”

This gets his spirits back up. “Geno’s?”

Jasper grumbles, “You know I’m a Pat’s guy.”

“But, please …” Sammy gives a very convincing, sad puppy-dog face.

Jasper sighs in defeat. “Fine. But, if you puke in my car, we’re going to Pat’s. Got it?”

“Deal.”

“Okay, now, pay Holly for your drinks.” Jasper talks to him like a dad would to his toddler. It’s adorable.

I already have Sammy’s tab closed out and his receipt ready to be signed, which he does with a dramatic flourish.

“Nice to meet you, Holly. Thanks for the drinks. And the kidney.” He bends at the waist in a low bow, catching me off guard. The formalness of the gesture is effectively ruined when he pops up, shoves Jasper, and yells, “Race you to the car!” before sprinting away.