Missed Connections

Chapter 19 - Poutinifull

It takes me a minute to untwine myself from Louis. If it wasn't for my tight skirt I would have clamped my thighs so tightly around him, and let him motorboat me right then and there. Or even better, lay me back over the table like Richard Gere pushes Julia Roberts on to the piano in Pretty Woman. Oh!  And Louis is musician. Please tell me he plays piano. I want him to make all my notes sing!

Libido and beer is a lovely combination; The pull to get back back to my place is so strong, but it's better to be prudent and get some food. And there is nothing better than poutine. Real poutine. Fresh cut fries, ideally with a bit of skin left on. Deep fried to golden perfection. Fresh cheese curds tumbled on top and coated with rich, thick gravy. It's a dream and a staple for any Canadian visit.

Plus, if you want to get creative you can add all sorts of toppings. The Newfies like peas and "dressing" which is like a dry version of turkey stuffing. Other interesting toppings include onions, mushrooms, chicken and more. There are poutine places dedicated to creating hundreds of varieties. Hell, we even have make your own à la carte places. One of my personal faves is the Double Pork at Smoke's Poutinerie. The best poutine, slathered with smoky pulled pork and bacon.  It's a heart attack waiting to happen, but a perfect post drinking indulgence, so off I drag Louis to Smoke's.

As per usual, the restaurant is slammed.  People are waiting everywhere in various states of intoxication.  We place our order at the counter and hang back to the side to wait for our food to come.  Louis finds an open bench seat, sits down, and I face him, perfectly fitting into the space between his legs.  Happy to be purposefully ignorant of everyone around me, I focus on Louis' blue eyes.  His hands gently circle my waist, and mine are placed on his thighs.  It takes all my strength not to inch my fingers higher up to explore.

As if sensing my intentions, Louis raises his eyebrows and looks at me with a smirk.  He gently grabs my hands within his, cupping them together, and rubbing the back of my right hand with his thumb.

"Plenty of time for that, love, but right now, I've got to visit the pisser!" He jumps up and pecks me on the lips, before grabbing me by the waist and plunking my butt down on the seat he has just vacated.  He hightails it to the little boy's room, and I watch him go, laughing.  Then, like any sane person, I take this moment of solitude to whip my phone out and update the girls via our groups text chat.

> OMG, ladies, I feel like my panties are melting on this date.

As I am staring at my phone, waiting for a reply, I hear a familiar voice call my name.  A cold feeling tingles at the back of my neck, tightens my throat, and spreads down my spine before landing in the pit of my stomach.  I don't feel much like eating poutine anymore.  I look up to see the source of the voice heading towards me.

"Evynn, hey!  I thought that was you."

"Heeey, Geoff. It's been a long time."

Geoff.  Talk about a Flashback Friday.  Geoff was one of the guys, Wes' boys.  The boys I spent so many nights laughing and joking with.  Boys that I grew up knowing.  Boys that haven't been present in my life since Wes was around.  And seeing him standing here before more brings up a whole barrage of feelings: anger, frustration, grief, but mostly sadness.  How can someone be such a huge part of your life and just walk away from you when things get crappy?  I thought we were friends in our own right, but apparently it was Wes that brought us together.  I'm thrown for a loop, and I don't know how to respond right now.

"How have you been?"

Small talk?  Really?

"Uh, fine.  Just working for the summer, still living in Toronto."