“Ohhh, balance and harmony,” Sam says, clearly lying because no one actually knows what Libras mean. “Any siblings?”
“Nope.”
“Wow, only child. Explains the main-character energy.”
Pete coughs into his wine.
“Parents?”
“Both dead.”
“Oh my God, tragic!” Sam gasps, delighted. “Like Disney tragic! You’re like Bambi.”
“Thanks.” I say, unsure if I’m being comforted or mocked.
Sam waves a hand. “Okay, next — worst date you’ve ever been on?”
“Uh…” I glance at Pete, but he just looks apologetic. There’s a pause as I try to find any kind of acceptable dating disaster story. “I once went for dinner with a guy who brought his mum. To thethird date.”
Sam’s jaw drops. “No! Was she hot?”
“I—what?”
Pete groans. “Sam.”
Sam ignores him, leaning closer. “Okay, let’s get to the good stuff. Body count?”
“Uhh…”
“Don’t be shy. Round up if you must.”
I flush so hard my ears burn. “I don’t… I’ve never… counted?”
Why am I answering these questions?
James sips his wine so slowly it feels like a judgment.
Sam grins. “I bet it’s respectable. Pete’s is pretty high.”
“Sam.” Pete’s voice is sharper this time, but Sam just winks.
“Fine, fine, we’ll leave the stats for later. But what about kinks? Vanilla, chocolate, or full-on Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked?”
I almost choke on a carrot. “Ummm…”
“Okay, maybe we should move on to something more—” Pete tries to deflect.
Sam beams. “So, Rocky Road.”
“Sam,” Pete moans, but he’s laughing despite himself now, face in his hands.
And that’s when I realise: I’m the comic relief tonight. The bumbling sitcom neighbour who wanders into the wrong apartmentwith his trousers on backwards. I plaster on a grin and keep talking, because what else can I do? At least if I’m the clown, nobody notices how terrified I am.
As the night continues, I appreciate Sam’s presence more. James offers little except an occasional frown, Pete is quiet and awkward, a side of him I’ve never seen.
Sam, on the other hand, is in his element, filling silences with outrageous stories, most of which I suspect are only half true.
But I can’t help but hyper focus on James. He just watches. Watches in the way a hawk watches a field mouse. Or the way my mother used to watch me when I said I’d done my homework but hadn’t.
