The IT Guy by Wynter St. Vincent Page A

had spent more than one lunch hour puzzling over a work issue while sampling our way through their selection.
    “Alright, foul temptress, twist my rubber arm,” he said, mock-scowling.
    I laughed.  Work ethic or no, we were both in need of some loosening up after the week we’d had, and a trip to the pub was just what the doctor ordered. Dan hadn’t called back so it looked like my evening was free. Besides, I was secretly hoping the beer would loosen Luke’s tongue a bit and I could get a little more info about his sex life.
    I went to the ladies room while Luke shut down the computers and gave myself a quick once over in the mirror: My shoulder length brown hair looked a little flat so I gave it a tousle for a just-rolled-out-of-bed look, and added some black eyeliner to my blue eyes. I took off my navy blue blazer and was left with a white and navy striped camisole and a pair of skinny jeans with strappy gold sandals. I smiled at my reflection. I looked cute: like I was off to the yacht club or something.
    When I met up with Luke again, I saw his eyes widen a little as I walked in.
    “What is it? Is there something on my face?”
    “No, it’s fine,” he stammered, “It’s just, you took off your jacket. You look different, I guess.”
    “Different? What, like, weird?” I asked, confused.
    “No,” he said, blushing, “it’s nice. You look good.”
    “Oh! Thank you!” I replied, embarrassed at having belaboured the point. Luke didn’t compliment my appearance often, or ever, really, and I was sorry to have put him on the spot. I was also secretly quite pleased to have elicited such a response.
    “Let’s get out of here, shall we?” I said, eager both to kick back over a nice beer, and to spend some casual time with Luke.
     
     

 
     
    CHAPTER TWO
     
    When we got to the pub, Luke and I grabbed a booth in the corner and ordered a couple of beers while we looked over the menus.
    Over a shared platter of chicken wings, Luke and I talked about the issues we’d been having with the computers at the office, the latest news from back home, and some general small talk. It wasn’t until our second pint that I tried to steer the conversation towards something more private.
    “Any plans this weekend?” I asked, hoping to glean some insight into his personal life.
    “Nothing special,” he replied, wiping BBQ sauce from his face, “I may check out the sci-fi marathon on TV. You?”
    “Nah. I had thought I might have a date, but it doesn’t look that way.”
    Luke nodded sympathetically but said nothing.
    “What about you,” I pressed, “have you been seeing any girls around here?”
    “Oh sure,” said Luke, “You know me; I’ve got a girl in every port!”
    I punched him in the arm. “I’m serious. I never hear you talk about anyone.”
    Luke shrugged. “I’m too busy with work.”
    That was a lie and I knew it. We were busy, sure, but we still had plenty of time on evenings and weekends to kick back. Normally I would have let it go at this point, but I felt emboldened by the beer and decided come hell or high water, tonight I was going to get some answers about Luke and his sex life. I had a sneaking suspicion that his experience was pretty limited and busybody that I am, I couldn’t wait to stick my nose in his business. Better that than think about Dan or the other losers that populated my own sex life.
    “Can I ask you something?”
    “I think you just did,” he joked.
    “Are you a virgin?”
    Luke looked as though he might choke on his beer for a second, but he regained his composure.
    “Well, that certainly is blunt,” he replied, red faced.
    “I’m sorry,” I said, “I know that was really personal, but you never talk about girls and you know how curious I am!”
    “Is it that obvious?” he said, looking embarrassed.
    I immediately regretted putting him on the spot.
    “No! Not at all,” I insisted,” I just, I don’t know. I had a feeling, I guess.”
    Neither of us