She’s talking about Stacey, the woman who asked me to be her Valentine.
“Yes, but right now, we have other customers who need food first.” I point to a tray that’s ready to be taken out. “Table four, please.”
I finish the order I was on, and Janine comes and collects it while I’m putting Stacey’s lunch together. She wants a cheese toastie. Drinks are made at the till, so I only have to worry about food when I'm in the kitchen. As much as I like serving customers directly, there’s something calming about working behind the scenes. Plus, Ilovecooking. Even making toasties is satisfying. I add a cupcake to Stacey’s order and swap roles with Janine so I can take Stacey’s lunch to her.
She smiles brightly at me. She’s a pretty woman with wavy brown hair and hazel eyes. I’ve never seen her without make-up on, and she’s always dressed reasonably smart, suggesting she works in an office somewhere close by.
“Hi, Fitz. I didn’t order a cupcake.”
“It’s on the house.” I gesture to the empty seat opposite her. “Do you mind?”
She shakes her head. “Does this mean you’re going to be my Valentine?” Her smile falters, so I guess she’s seen something in my expression that I don’t even know is there.
“I’d like to,” I say.
“I’m sensing a but.” She picks some cucumber out of her side salad and nibbles on it.
“I want to make sure we’re on the same page before I say yes.”
Her brow furrows. She finishes the cucumber.
“When you asked me out, I got the feeling you wanted more than dinner.”
She leans forward and whispers, “Do you mean sex?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re right. You’re really cute, Fitz. I’d like to get to know you over dinner and thenreallyget to know you afterwards.”
“The thing is, I don’t sleep with anyone on the first date.”
“Oh!” She looks genuinely surprised. “That’s sweet. Are you religious?”
“What? No. I’m demi.”
“Oh.” She picks up her fork and pushes the salad around her plate. “Don’t you like me?”
“I do like you.”
“Don’t you find me attractive?”
“Of course I do! But I don’tknowyou.”
“That’s why we’d go on a date. To get to know each other better and then have some fun. Sexy fun,” she whispers in case I hadn’t got that.
“It tends to take me a bit longer than that to want to…” I trail off because there are some families in the shop today.
“Oh.”
She’s saying that a lot like she’s never encountered a guy who didn’t want to screw her on the first date before. Maybe she hasn’t. I know nothing about her dating preferences or history, and I’m not about to ask.
“So you don’t want to sleep with me?” she asks.
“Not right away, no.”
“You think I’m attractive but not sexy?” She looks borderline insulted.
I’ll never understand why it’s so hard for some people to wrap their heads around the notion that someone might want to spend time getting to know them before jumping into bed with them.
