Thirty seconds later, the video is over. “But why?” Klein asks. “What does she do with them now? Does the flower shaped ice go in pink lemonade? Does the diamond shaped ice go in a top-shelf vodka tonic?”
I squint at him. “You’re weird.”
“I need to know what she does with it.”
I smirk. “You mean you need a resolution to the story she has presented in a thirty second short form video?”
“That”—he points at my phone—“is not relaxing. Too many unanswered questions.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you do to relax? I’m sure it’s not always easy to deal with drunk people at night, and sling words during the day.”
“Easy,” Klein shrugs. “I watch videos of dogs throwing temper tantrums.”
Now it’s my turn to have pinched and dubious eyebrows. “Dogs throwing temper tantrums?”
Klein extracts his phone from his pocket, excitement twinkling in his eyes. He copies me by saying, “Prepare to be amazed.”
He pulls up a video and offers me his phone. “Dom sent me this yesterday.”
I’m already smiling and we’re only three seconds into the video of a golden retriever lying on what appears to be an asphalt street, refusing to get up. The owner stands a few feet away, holding onto the leash and attempting to coax him from the ground. A young girl walks by, sparking the dog’s interest enough to make him stand up and lick her hand. Relief takes over the owner’s face as hebelieves they will now be able to continue their walk, but the dog lies right back down. The exasperated owner finally bends down on one knee, scooping up the dog who at this point could pass for a sack of potatoes. The owner staggers away as upbeat music plays in the background.
Klein slides his phone back into his pocket. I take a step away, inserting some space between us now that we’ve exchanged silly videos (and he’s one-upped me).
Appraising eyes on me, he says, “You should see your smile right now. You look way happier than you did watching ice being made.”
I wipe the smile off my face. “You’re seeing things. I’m not smiling.” Except I’m literally fighting a smile while saying it, and Klein’s knowing look makes it even harder to keep a straight face. I take another sip of wine. “What was your final question on your list?”
“Favorite food.”
“Tacos.”
“That feels like a gimme.”
“A gimme?”
“Everyone’s favorite food is tacos.”
“What’s your favorite food?”
“Tacos.”
I roll my eyes. “I guess it’ll be easy for us to choose a restaurant sometime.”
Klein glances at his watch. “Speaking of restaurants...” He pushes off the counter. “I better get going.”
I nod, but find I don’t want him to go. Do Ienjoyhis company? Our conversation?
Geez. I’m going to have to watch out for that. No need to muddy the waters.
I walk him to the front door, holding it open for him while he steps through.
He stands on the threshold, hands tucked in his pockets. “It was nice getting to know you. A little, anyway.”
“It was only a little nice getting to know me?” I tease.
He offers a lopsided smile. “I mean, we’ve hardly broken the surface.”
Disregarding his words with a wave of my hand, I say, “Nah. I’m boring. There’s not much to know about me.”
