“I fell into the sport by accident. I’m in the ski club on campus with a couple of water polo players. They joined freshman year before their season started. They explained that they might have a few timing conflicts because of practice or games, and I was like, ‘Dude, what the fuck is water polo?’ I’m pretty sure I told them it sounded lame as hell. So they challenged me to try out for the team. It was all a joke. I figured they’d owe me a contraband twelve-pack of beers and we’d laugh about it on our next ski trip. But I liked it and…I’m damn good at it.”
“You don’t do humble well, eh?”
I snort-laughed. “What can I say? When you got it, you got it. The story is kinda funny ’cause yeah, I’m a good swimmer, but what they needed was a big guy. Someone who was strong and tough and could fight off multiple defenders and still score a goal. Maybe I wasn’t the fastest guy in the water, but I definitely had the muscle.”
“I don’t know much about water polo. What position do you play?”
“Set. Some people call it center or two-meter. Here’s how it works.” I opened my napkin and flattened the edges. “This is the pool. The goals are opposite ends. There are six players per team and a goalie. These six guys can switch up and do what they need to do collectively to score, but in theory, they want me to swim front and center and throw a fucking rocket into the net. And avoid being drowned in the process.”
“Easy,” he taunted with a lopsided grin.
“Yeah, right,” I huffed. “It’s a good thing I got a lot of practice wrestling with my brother. We used to beat the crap out of each other. Seriously. A brawl over the remote control or a video game almost always led to potential injury when I was growing up. And then Mom would come home from work to find lamps upended, pillows scattered everywhere, and Ty and me throwing haymakers. Let’s just say, she was not pleased.”
“Where was your dad?”
“I don’t have one of those.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
I waved him off. “Don’t be. I never knew the guy. He was a ski instructor from New Zealand who taught with Mom at the lodge. He had a work visa so he could hit winter on two hemispheres and never miss the snow. She rarely talks about him, and when she does, she refers to him as Peter Pan. He never wanted to grow up. Which explains why he didn’t come back to Mammoth when she told him she was pregnant with twins.”
“Jesus, he sounds like a tool.”
“Yeah. I don’t think about him much. The only time he remotely enters my mind is when I hear the phrase ‘Peter Pan.’ I like to have fun, but I don’t want to be that guy. Ever.” I slugged my beer and swallowed, then asked, “What about you? What’s your family like?”
“They’re good people. My parents live in Oceanside. I have two older brothers. They’re both married. Tom, the oldest, has three kids. And Mark, the one who rented the place here, just got hitched last summer. No doubt I’ll be a guncle again soon,” he said with a smile.
“So they know you’re gay.”
Drew inclined his head. “Yes. I came out before I left for college and I’m twenty-eight now, so at this point, it’s old news. My dad is ex-military. It took him longer to process, but we’re good now.”
“I’m glad.”
“Me too. You know something funny?”
“What?”
“My family actually thinks I’m a bit of a Peter Pan.”
“You?” I scoffed. “No way. You have two jobs, and you’re getting your master’s. You couldn’t immerse yourself in more grown-up-titude if you tried. I was shocked you were taking a weekend off.”
“I needed it. I’m so burned out right now. School starts next week, and I’ve got to be mentally prepared to conquer it all.”
“Are you going to quit one of your jobs?”
“Not immediately. But I’ll probably need to give notice at the bar. I don’t really want to, though. I like that job. I’m good at it.”
I grinned. “Mmm, I see. What makes you the best bartender in Long Beach?”
Drew pursed his lips in amusement. “I didn’t say I was the best. I’m just better than I thought I’d be. I don’t know how I landed in the restaurant business, but I’ve been a busboy, a server, a host, a waiter, a manager, and a bartender. The only job that made me nervous was behind the bar. I was afraid I wouldn’t be good at peopling. I could just imagine someone pouring their guts out about their rotten exes, money problems, job issues…and not knowing how to respond. Turns out that if you stick to trivia, you can’t go wrong.”