8. Olivia #4
“Yeah, you mentioned you’re going through your own big transition.
Sure, it’s not leaving an abusive family situation as a teenager, but it’s still very commendable to realize you weren’t satisfied with what was going on and that you wanted to change.
It’s something I’ve been grappling with myself. ”
Was he a woodworker or a wordsmith? He sure had a way of saying things that made my heart leap into my throat like I was entirely unused to.
“Well, when you put it that way...”
“What other way could I possibly put it?” he asked, his eyes oh so intensely kind. “From where I’m sitting, everything you’re doing is very admirable. If I’d had my head square on my shoulders at thirty like you do, maybe I wouldn’t feel like I’m rapidly approaching a midlife crisis.”
I flushed at the praise. Hopefully, the full-coverage foundation I’d applied kept me from looking like one of the tomatoes my father loved growing.
It wasn’t that my family never complimented me, but it was an entirely different experience to get that sort of verbal recognition from an incredibly handsome man.
“Thank you, Keith, really.”
It didn’t feel like nearly enough, but thankfully, I was saved from coming up with more to say by our server returning with our food.
I was going to leave her the fattest tip ever.
She had no idea of the conversational pitfalls she was saving me from.
Maybe she was psychic and could hear my mental panic from across the restaurant.
Or maybe it was just luck.
Either way, the emergency twenty in my pocket was definitely going to her.
“Oh, this looks delicious,” I said as she placed the cedar-smoked salmon in front of me. Its scent was heady enough to distract me from Keith’s, which was actually quite a feat.
“It does. Mine ain’t half bad, either. You want a bite?”
I didn’t even try to pretend to the opposite.
After eagerly accepting the morsel, I offered him one from my own plate.
The conversation slowed for a bit after that, both of our mouths full, and before long, we’d polished off our meals.
Halfway through, I’d forgotten I was supposed to have a human appetite, but Keith was too busy chowing down on his own to notice how quickly I put away mine.
But the conversation didn’t end when our meals did.
No, quite the contrary. With another two glasses of wine—human alcohol had absolutely no effect on me—and another mocktail for Keith, which I actually did manage to try, the time began to pass by with absolutely no notice.
It wasn’t until the third time the waitress swung by the table to ask if we were ready for her to bring the bill that I realized we were camped out at the table.
Whoops. Looks like my second emergency twenty was about to join the first, because I didn’t want her to be left out just because I was having the time of my life.
“Just to let you know, the kitchen is closing, so if there is anything else I can get you, now is the time for it.”
Closing?
More than a bit surprised, I pulled my phone out of my purse and realized that over three hours had passed since we sat down. How had that happened?
“Oh, no, we’re more than fine,” Keith said quickly, no doubt having the same horrified realization that I did. “Here’s my card, sorry for the delay.”
“No problem!” she said in a way that told me that it very much was a problem, but she was choosing to be magnanimous and forgive us for it.
Whatever. Restaurant social contracts were a myriad of pitfalls behooved by the fact that none of them were paid a living wage and often had to rely on customers’ generosity to make sure they took money home at the end of their shift. “I’ll be right back.”
“No problem, take your time.”
Once she was gone, Keith and I shared a bashful look. Neither of us had to say anything to know we were on the exact same page. It was nice, really, hanging out with someone who had similar social anxieties and reactions to mine.
While we were sharing this very long look, Keith’s stomach let out a truly comical growl. And it wasn’t one of digestion, no, I was sure I would be able to tell that even without my shifter hearing. It was one of hunger.
Still, neither of us said anything. I glanced from his stomach to his face, a wry smile creeping over my lips.
The two of us continued to say nothing until the waitress returned with the check and Keith hastily signed it, adding a sizable tip. Between that and the cash I was going to leave, our server was going to clean up quite nicely for the night!
However, once he set the pen down, Keith’s eyes returned to mine and he fixed me with an utterly level expression as he spoke.
“You know... there’s a Chinese place with the best crab rangoon right around the corner. And it’s all you can eat.”
A grin broke out across my face as I realized how silly I had been to try to curb my appetite. As if I would want to seek out anything with a man who would judge me for liking to eat.
“Keith, that might be the second best idea you’ve had.”
“Glad you think so. But what was the first?”
“Asking me out on this date.” I stood, and maybe it was the promise of crab rangoon, or maybe I was still riding the high of a great night, but I offered him my hand. “Let’s go!”