the school of extraordinary lovers

XV

The restaurant Iris has chosen for their double date boasts a "buy one, get one" special on margaritas. It's an overly generous gesture from the restaurant and so far, the night's one saving grace. They're asked to wait at the bar until the rest of their party arrives — Liam, who Harry met during the ski trip, and Liam's single, gay friend.

"They're almost here," Iris says, glancing away from her phone. "I promise you won't regret this."

"Iris," Harry says, massaging his brows. "I'm already regretting it."

"You haven't even met him yet."

"His name is Lewis," Harry says with a patient, but wary smile. "You set me up on a date with a boy named Lewis. There's a reason you didn't mention that until ten minutes ago."

"He's cute ."

"And his name is Lewis."

Iris grasps Harry by the shoulders. "It's not the French version. That's all that matters! You can just call him Lou."

Harry widens his eyes. "I call him Lou," he says. Or he has in this past. Or he might in the future.

"You can't rule out every boy with the same or similar names. Just like you can't rule out every vampire," she whispers. "Or every boy who's brown-haired and blue-eyed."

"Can't I?" Harry asks. Because he thinks dating a blond wolf named Joe or a ginger human named Friedrich, for example, might be a better move. Not that he's hung up on Louis. He's not. And not that he's spent all New Year's Eve wondering what Louis is up to or who he kissed at midnight. Because he hasn't. And when Iris mentioned a double date, it's not like Harry accepted purely as a way of distracting himself from thoughts about Louis. Because he didn't.

Or did he?

"You know what?" Harry says. "Let's just do this. It'll be fun."

"Yes!" Iris says, looping her arm with his. "You can always give him a nickname or something. If it works out."

And Harry wants it to work out in the vague way he wants any potential relationship to work out. Especially now that he's committed to dating men exclusively.

Iris's face lights up and she waves at someone past Harry. Then Liam appears, pulling her into a hug. And right behind him is the friend, who is indeed cute, but—

"I'm Lewis," the boy says, sticking out his hand. "You must be Harry."

"That's me," Harry says. "Does anyone call you by your middle name?

Lewis's brows wrinkle. "That's a new question. It's Brody. So, I prefer not."

"Just curious," Harry says.

Perhaps it won't be as big a deal as Harry originally thought. But he's always been dramatic and he's never denied it.

He has his margaritas and a very good assortment of tacos. And he has a good time, most importantly. They walk through the city after dinner, perusing street stalls or ducking into shops here and there. He and Lewis get separated once or twice and surmise that Iris and Liam have found an alley to make out in. Lewis is a cook and luckily, this allows them to pass the time, talking about recipes until their friends return.

"We got our fortunes read together. At that little shop over there," Iris announces. "You guys should do it too."

"I've always wanted to try that," Lewis says.

And because he doesn't want to feign ignorance about fortune telling or lie, Harry says, "Let's."

The shop is, of course, dimly lit. With blue crushed velvet walls and hardwood floors. It smells of frankincense and patchouli and there's a cat snoozing by a space heater in the corner.