The Anomaly by J.A. Cooper Page B

do in the way of fun or work.
    Dad lets me borrow their extra car. When I arrive at the pizza parlor, the table’s almost full. I look for Wynter, and she waves at me. She pats the seat next to hers.
    I make my way to the table, smiling, and I say hello to everyone. They all have a drink in front of them, but the pizzas haven’t arrived yet, if they have already been ordered. I greet David, the birthday boy, with a hug.
    “It’s been a while,” he says.
    I nod and smile. “Yes, it has.”
    We chat a bit before I sit down.
    “Glad you came,” Wynter says. “David was excited when I told him you were coming. It’s not often anyone who’s moved away comes back to town. We become too country for them, I guess.” Wynter shrugs. 
    “Well, I’m happy to have an evening out. I haven’t done much for the last few days, besides gardening with my dad and window shopping with my stepmom.”
    “Window shopping?” Wynter leans back to look at me.
    “There’s nothing I really need.”
    “I bet,” Wynter says. “The last time I was in New York was two years ago. I literally shopped until I felt like dropping.”
    We laugh, and Wynter’s blue eyes sparkle. The lighting inside the restaurant is soft. They seem to have chosen light bulbs that flatter the restaurant’s patrons.
    “I’m glad Mr. Smith is doing well,” Wynter whispers. “I saw him at the post office the other day.”
    I nod. “He’s doing swell.”
    “Well, it looks like the birthday boy is having a good time!”
    I turn and see a young man walking toward the table. He is about my age, and he has beautifully chiselled cheekbones. I envy those cheekbones. What model wouldn’t want great bone structure like that? He hands David a wrapped package that looks like a bottle of wine. I follow his movements with my eyes as my breathing increases. Something about the confident way he walks tugs at me. I’m drawn to him.
    He pats David on the back and sits across from me. Our eyes meet. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. Seconds pass before Wynter introduces us.
    “Shayna, this is Nathan Theodor.” I give my best smile. “Nathan, this is an old friend of David’s and mine.”
    Nathan stands and stretches his hand across the table so I don’t have to get up. “Nice to meet you.”
    “You too.”
    We shake hands, and Nathan smiles at me. He has model looks for sure: tall, strong, lean, built, and so handsome. His good looks can be appreciated from every angle. The fact that he doesn’t seem to notice the effect his presence has on me makes him even more appealing. A few minutes later, the last seat is filled, and the pizza is ordered.
    We no longer talk amongst ourselves; we all zoom in on the birthday boy. I can tell that Nathan and David are good friends by the easiness of their interactions. Everyone seems familiar with one another, though I only recognize two people besides Wynter and David. One woman at the table attempts to flirt with Nathan, but he doesn’t flirt back. I’m used to men capitalizing on their good looks, but he acts as if he isn’t the catch of the day. And I’m pretty sure that women from New York to Missouri to Alaska throw themselves at him. Even I want to reel him in.
    “Twenty-one’s my favorite number,” David tells us, adding that he’s thrilled he can now order a beer.
    A few people at the table who are already twenty-one lift their glasses in salute, and then there’s talk about birthdays and getting older. I don’t have much to say. Getting older is like a curse in an industry where some of my friends in their early twenties are already getting Botox injections. We all have a shelf life .
    “The years seem to roll into a ball as you get older,” Wynter says, locking her fingers to form a ball with her hands. “The milestones aren’t as pertinent as when you’re turning thirteen... then sixteen... then eighteen.”
    Nathan shakes his head. “I get where you’re coming from. But to me”—he