“I’m not talking to you about hooking up with my ex-girlfriend tonight.”
I wave him off. “It doesn’t add to your count if she’s a repeat.”
His mouth falls open in shock, but he’s quick to recover. “Did you really just talk aboutmy count?”
“Yeah, you know, how many people you’ve been with. If you go back to someone who is already on the list—maybe when you’re in a slump of finding someone new and need to find a release of some kind—then it’s better to go back to someone you’ve already been with.”
He sits back in his booth, twirling his beer on the table. “Is that really how you think?”
“Is it how I think?” I place my hand on my chest. “No. But I know a lot of guys do.”
“And you think I’m like a lot of guys?”
Now it’s my turn to cheers him, so I pick up my glass and motion the same way he did to me earlier. “If the pants fit.”
“Then what would you say if I told you I’m not the kind of guy who just hooks up with random girls?”
“But that’s the point.” I motion toward where she’s standing, not trying to hide that she’s watching our conversation. “She’s not random. How long did you guys date for? You’ve already slept with her. At least, I hope so, or she has some very strong emotional ties to you, which is weird if there’s no physical relationship to tie it to.” Then it hits me, and I place my hands on the table, leaning toward him. “Is that it? Did you hold out on her, and now she’s begging to finally get some?”
He drops his head back and lets out a loud laugh. “No, I did not hold out on her.”
I bring my hands back to my lap. “Well then, she liked what you gave because she is giving you massive bedroom eyes right now.”
I motion toward her, and he looks, which I know he regrets instantly because she waves seductively at him. He doesn’t wave back, just smiles politely, and I have to lift my napkin to cover my mouth so she doesn’t see me laugh too hard.
“I hate you right now—you know that, right?” he says playfully with his eyes open wide at me, trying to make sure Leslie doesn’t see.
“At least we’re back to that stage between us.” I shrug with nonchalance.
Our food is brought out, and I waste no time digging in.
“So, you do actually eat,” he points out like he’s surprised.
“Of course I eat. Why would that be a question?”
He waves his hand toward me. “Have you seen yourself?”
“Just because I’m small does not mean I don’t eat.”
He challenges my statement. “Do you think you’ll finish that plate?”
I glance down, seeing the massive pile of vegetables and mashed potatoes, and look back at him, suddenly annoyed. “Probably not, but that’s beside the point. Are you going to finish everything on your plate?”
“After not eating lunch? Absolutely. And I’ll finish yours too. Save me a bite of salmon, won’t you?”
I shake my head and take another bite, loving the garlic taste that’s making the salmon melt in my mouth.
A few more bites, and I’m getting full, but I don’t want to admit it, so I start taking smaller bites. He, on the other hand, is munching down on that burger without a care in the world.
“How’s your burger?” I ask, knowing the answer by how much is already gone but just wanting something to talk about since my own appetite is slowing down.
“Good. You almost done there?” He points to my plate so I give in.
“Fine. Yes, I’m full. Here.” I push my plate his way.
He lifts his fork and takes a bite of my leftover salmon, nodding his approval. “That’s good.”
“Yes, it was, but I can’t eat another bite.”
