Good advice, thank you, D.
just have fun FFS!!!!!! & text the code if you see anything hinky
I will, LOL,Sam typed. Drishti was referring to Sam’s hatred of the acronym, so much so that they’d long agreed if Sam texted LOL to Drishti, it meant she was in some serial killer’s trunk and Drishti should call 911 immediately.
make sure u dont have anything in ur teeth. & use a condom
DRISHTI
text me when u get home w the deets!!!!!!!
Drishti helpfully sent an eggplant emoji. Sam texted back a bike and left the bathroom.
But instead of returning to the table she stood near the bar, half concealed by a red velvet curtain, observing William in the booth. Their food had arrived, but he was waiting for her like a gentleman and consulting his phone, his face ghostly in the cold white glow. There was something in his posture at that moment that spoke of vulnerability: the slight curve of his back, or the way his hair curled over his collar. Looking at William now, Sam thought she could spot the little boy he had once been, the profound loneliness that had led him to seek solace in a world of words in the first place. Or maybe it was just that he didn’t know she was watching.
WhatwasWilliam’s deal? Everyone had one, some Achilles’ heel of the psyche. But not all of them were catastrophic. Maybe Sam was overcorrecting. Her first date with Hank, he’d told her outright that he struggled with alcohol but was really trying to make healthier choices, and if Sam got up and left, he’d understand. Instead of doing that, Sam had thought:Great! At least he admits it, so we can fix it!There were nights she’d drunk all Hank’s vodka so he wouldn’t and then thrown up; when he started recovery, she hadn’t kept alcohol in their home. For years she hadn’t had a glass of wine or gone out to dinner because of the temptations Hank was trying to avoid. This evening with William felt like a refugee’s first feast after fleeing a war. Maybe Drishti was right; maybe Sam was looking for red flags because in the past she’d set her bar so goddamned low.
Sam headed back to the table. William rose at her approach. “I tested yourfrites,” he said. “Just to make sure they weren’t poisoned.”
“So thoughtful of you,” said Sam.
“I’m a giver,” agreed William.
They ate then, or rather William devoured his salmon in four bites and Sam nibbled a mussel. She had never been able to eat in front of a man she found attractive.
“Do you ever,” William said abruptly, “get as lonely as I do? With the writing life?”
Sam put her tiny fork down. Again, he’d read her mind. “Yes.”
“Let’s play round two.” William dinged his fork on his glass. “Have you been married?”
“I was,” said Sam. “I’m divorced now.”
“Amicable?”
“Yes. He’s an addict in recovery, starting his life over, and I’m very proud of him.”
William made prayer hands. “More power to him. That’s a hard road. Kids?”
“No. We tried, but the IVF didn’t catch. And given Hank’s drinking... maybe it was better.” Sam clinked her glass. “My turn. You?”
“No kids. To my regret.”
“Married?”
“Nope.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“Not to the best of my knowledge,” said William.
Ping!Red flag. Commitment-phobe. Although there’d be no annoying ex to contend with.
“I was engaged once,” said William. “But...”
“Oh,” said Sam, remembering. She felt abashed for judging him. “I’m sorry. Your Darling.”
“Yes,” said William, his grin fading. He regarded her for a long moment. “I’d like to sit over there, okay?”
