Chapter 3: Pub Quiz & Accidental Wingman
Friday night at The Red Stag was sacred. To Ted, at least.
To others, it was just a cozy pub tucked behind a bus stop with more character than polish and the best sticky toffee pudding in Leeds. But to Ted, it was home turf. Safe. Warm. Familiar. And absolutely not the place to encounter Gym Adonis/Flower Enthusiast again.
Naturally, fate had other plans.
“You’ve brought your face again,” Ken said, raising his pint as Ted slumped into their usual booth.
“I live here, Ken.”
“Emotionally, yes. Physically, your face says ‘someone just walked over my grave and they had very nice shoulders.’”
Ted ignored him and ordered a pint on the app. He’d earned it after surviving the gym, the rain, and three whole hours of Zoom meetings with a client who didn’t understand how PDFs worked.
Ken was scrolling through his phone when he froze. “Oh. You’ll love this.”
He held it out.
A blurry Instagram story. Liz had posted a throwback of Aaron, shirtless on a hike somewhere sunny.
The caption?
“This man still doesn’t know how to take selfies but at least he exists in photos. #LurkerLife”
Ted nearly choked on nothing.
“WHY do you follow her?” he hissed.
“I follow everyone. You know this. Plus, she’s funny.”
“He’s in that picture!”
Ken smirked.
“Yes. And he’s still very much not your boyfriend.”
Ted buried his face in his arms.
“Kill me. Just kill me.”
And then—because the universe is a cruel, vindictive little drama queen—Aaron walked in.
Same hoodie from the gym. Same quiet confidence. Same please ruin me aura.
“Oh come on,” Ted whispered.
Ken raised an eyebrow.
“You think he followed you?”
“No. Yes. Maybe. Don’t say it.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“He’s not supposed to be here.”
“It’s a public pub, mate. He’s allowed. Also, he just sat next to the quiz board. So unless he’s here to do cross-stitch…”
Ted stared.
Aaron was here for the quiz night.
And he wasn’t alone.
Some corporate-looking bloke with too much gel and not enough neck was chatting to him with all the enthusiasm of a drunk Labrador. Aaron was nodding politely, clearly not getting a word in edgewise.
“Oh no,” Ted said.
“He’s trapped.”
Ken glanced over.
“Yeah. I’ve seen that bloke. Dave from Accounts or something. Calls himself a ‘banter merchant.’ Once tried to flirt with me using an analogy about printers.”
Ted winced.
“You think I should—?”
Ken shoved his pint across the table.
“Wing it.”
⸻
Ten minutes later, they were shuffled into quiz teams by some overenthusiastic host in a bowtie. Ted ended up at a four-top—next to Aaron.
Of course he did.
“Hi,” Ted said, a little too brightly.
Aaron nodded. “Hey.”
Dave from Accounts tried to high-five everyone. No one reciprocated.
“Team name?” the host asked.
“Quiztopher Walken,” Dave said. “Classic. Can’t go wrong.”
“Let’s not,” Ted mumbled.
Aaron was staring at the quiz sheet. “There’s a romcom round?”
“Yeah?!” Ted perked up.
“I’m great at romcoms. I’ve seen Everything, Everything at least five times.”
Aaron looked blank.
“Is that the one with the sick girl and the window?”
“Yes! And the boy with the eyebrows.”
“Right. I thought they died at the end.”
Ted gasped.
“They moved to Hawaii!”
Aaron tilted his head.
“Still sounds fatal.”
Ted laughed. Loudly.
It surprised them both.
Dave groaned.
“Can’t believe this round’s about chick flicks. Hope there’s at least one Die Hard.”
Aaron muttered, “That’s not a romcom.”
Ted looked at him with pure admiration.
“Thank you.”
Aaron shrugged.
“You seem to care about this.”
“I do. Deeply. Romcoms are art. Fight me.”
Aaron gave a half-smile.
“I believe you.”
⸻
Two rounds in, Dave excused himself to take a “client call” (probably his mum). The team improved instantly.
Aaron was oddly good at geography and surprisingly decent at movie taglines.
“You know You’ve Got Mail?”
Ted asked after Aaron got one right.
Aaron nodded.
“My mum liked it. I watched it with her growing up.”
Ted’s heart stuttered.
“That’s disgustingly sweet.”
Aaron blinked.
“It’s just a film.”
Ted shook his head.
“It’s a film about fate and bookstores and pretending not to fall in love with someone online. That’s iconic.”
Aaron looked amused.
“Is that what this is? You pretending not to fall in love with me?”
Ted choked on his pint.
Aaron’s lips twitched.
Ted recovered.
“No. I mean. Definitely not. I’m just… friendly. British. Awkward.”
Aaron’s eyes twinkled.
“You’re not awkward.”
“Liar.”
Aaron shrugged.
“You’re charming. It’s different.”
Ted stared. Brain fully blue-screening.
Ken, returning from the bar with chips, clocked the look on Ted’s face and grinned like a cat in heat.
“Did I miss something?”
“No,” Ted said quickly.
“Yes,” Aaron said at the same time.
Ken wiggled his eyebrows.
“I’ll allow it.”
⸻
They didn’t win the quiz. They came third, narrowly losing to a team of PhD students called Let’s Get Quizzical.
But Ted walked home feeling like he’d won something anyway.
As he reached his front door, his phone buzzed.
A message. From Aaron.
“Do you really like delphiniums or was that just a line?”
Ted smiled so hard it hurt.
“I like the blue. But I like you more.”
There was a pause.
Then Aaron replied:
“Then I’ll see you at the flower stall. Saturday.”
⸻