“It doesn’t have to be Sunday,” he says.
I frown, trying to puzzle out where he’s going with this. It almost feels like he’s asking me out, but that can’t be right. He’s never done that before. I must take too long to answer because he waves his hand between us and says, “Forget it. I’ll see if Sam wants to try it with me. I hope you have a great weekend.”
Oh. Sam is his friend. He just meant having dinner together as friends. Now I feel like a jerk. I wish I could articulate everything that’s wrong with me in a way he could understand so we wouldn’t have to have awkward moments like this, but I can’t even articulate it to my therapist. I swear Evan and I wind up like this a few times a month with me totally misunderstanding something and him giving up on my awkward ass.
“I have plans tonight,” I say, circling back to where we started. “But I might be around on Sunday. I probably will be.”
“Yeah?” Evan looks surprised, which I guess is fair because I’m usually gone all weekend.
“Yeah, so maybe.”
“I’ll take maybe.” He scans the kitchen. “I’m assuming you don’t want any help in here?”
“No, I’ve got it.” The kitchen is kind of my space. Evan might have had his way with the living room, more or less forcing me to sell half my gym equipment so he could have a functional sitting area, but other than washing his dishes, he leaves the kitchen to me.
Lifting his cheese plate and water bottle in a show of thanks, he says, “All right. Well, have a great night.”
Before he’s fully gone, I try to make a better effort at communicating with him. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Just working on the software,” he says.
Working for the same tech company means Evan and I have this one thing in common—a love of computers and programming, so I know the story of his entrepreneurial journeyfrom the beginning. I’m the superior programmer between us, and I’ve given him a few assists along the way, but he’s learning a lot and getting better at troubleshooting the software on his own. I miss helping him, though. We work well together. If his boss ever does promote him, I hope he winds up on my team.
“How’s that going?” I ask.
“It’s coming along. I’ll show it to you sometime, and you can tell me what you think.”
“Sure,” I say. “Maybe Sunday.”
“Maybe Sunday,” he repeats.
“What happened to your lip?” I ask.
“Oh.” He blushes as his free hand flies up to cover the swollen spot on his mouth. “Sharp fork.”
A fork did that? I don’t press him about it. He already seems embarrassed. “Okay.”
“Anyway, see you later.” He heads to his room, snapping his fingers for Apollo to follow him. The enormous Harlequin Great Dane stares at him a moment, and his eyes seem to ask,“Who? Me?”
“Come on, big guy.” Evan pats his leg. Reluctantly, Apollo drags his lazy ass up and mopes over on his lanky legs to follow him. I suspect the cheeseball is the main reason.
4
DEACON
Seeing Bailey and Malcolm was the best thing I could have done to calm me down for tonight. The conversation with Evan didn’t hurt, either. I’m extremely nervous about being a tongue-tied disaster for this date, and they were exactly what I needed to warm-up to the idea of socializing. Even Millie didn’t agitate me as much today as she sometimes can.
I took all my meds before I left the apartment. I’ve noticed some small differences from them in the last few days. Along with the lack of cravings, I also find myself not caring so much when one of my twenty-two year-old team members barges into my office to vent about whatever phone call or email most recently sent them into a spiral.
My goal for tonight is to meet a person in a more traditional environment and hopefully hit it off and get laid—emphasis on the getting laid. The less talking, the better my chances. At this point, I don’t even care what he looks like. He seemed like a decent guy when we texted, and if he’s not lying about his age and having a career in tech, I don’t really care if he’s tall or short, skinny or big, nerdy or cool. If he’s polite and doesn’t seem likehe’d leave me to fend for myself in an emergency room at three a.m., he’s exactly the type I’m looking to hook up with tonight.
If my conversation in the kitchen with Evan earlier is any indicator, I’m not the best at interpersonal communication, but I am trying because he triessohard. The best thing about my last roommate Ryan was he was as bad at talking as I am. The expectations were low all around. I know deep down that Evan’s better for me in general for a hundred reasons but mainly because he has a way of easing me out of my comfort zone in a way that doesn’t feel like he’s forcing it. My therapist and Bailey think he’s good for me, too. Although Bailey, who probably knows me best, wants me to date him.
Still, I’d rather keep my dating life outside my apartment. Since I’ve never technically dated before, I have no idea how this is going to go or what the hell I’d be like as someone’s plus one. I have a feeling there’s a learning curve.
With a deep breath, I enter the sushi restaurant just as the rain that’s been threatening all day finally drops from the sky. When I give the hostess my name, she tells me I’m the first of my party to arrive and seats me at a reserved spot at the sushi bar. I order a cup of hot tea to sip and get lost in watching the chefs prepare the food.
I enjoy cooking, and I mentioned that along with my love of seafood to my date on the app where we met. I’ll give him points for the venue. It’s not too loud, not too quiet, and there’s a lot to look at.
