“That’s something we’ll never be able to test,” she replied. “I’m bored by pretty much all team sports. Basketball included, which is too bad because people always think I must be good at it. In high school the coach kept trying to get me to try out for the team. She told me if I was even okay, I could probably get a scholarship. But I didn’t want to play a sport where no one cared if I was actually good or not, but only wanted me for my height.”
“I get it,” Norris said. “When I was in high school, everyone wanted me to play football. They told me something pretty similar. They said I didn’t have to love it, I just had to commit to it and do my best. But I didn’t want to run around a field banging into people. It seemed so violent. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, even by accident. I told the coach that, and he looked shocked. I think he’d assumed that just because I was big enough to knock people around, it must be something I wanted to do.”
Annabeth was indignant on teenage Norris’s behalf. “What an awful thing to assume! Anyone who actually talked to you for ten minutes—even for one minute!—would know you’re a big cinnamon roll, not a big bully.”
That sweet smile of his lit up his face, warming her inside like a hearth fire. “Here’s to not making assumptions.”
She’d been so engrossed in their conversation that she’d barely noticed that they’d walked all along the pier and arrived at its row of famous seafood restaurants. Norris stopped at the first one, Grab the Crab. “Got a preference?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never been to any of these. You know what it’s like being a grad student. All your money goes to tuition, and you live on ramen.”
“I remember,” he said with sympathy. “I only got my own PhD a couple years ago. I had so many ramen recipes. You can drop an egg in it and whisk it for egg drop soup...”
“Leave it whole for soup with a poached egg...”
“Or make hard-boiled eggs and marinate them in soy sauce, then put them in the ramen.” Norris licked his lips. “That was my favorite.”
“Oh, that’s good,” said Annabeth. “I like to chop up garlic and onions and put them in the boiling water before I add the ramen.”
“I had a roommate who used to boil the ramen, drain the water, and add cheese. Instant mac-and-cheese!”
“I’ll have to try that,” she said, intrigued.
“But not tonight.” He opened the door of Grab the Crab.
A blast of Christmas music hit her in the face. She recoiled. “Ugh!”
“What’s the matter?” Norris asked, concerned.
Annabeth hesitated. She didn’t want to seem weird and picky on the first date. And if he asked why she didn’t like Christmas music, she’d have to either lie or commit the absolute worst sin of first dates: telling stories about your ex. But she also didn’t want to have her first date with someone as wonderful as Norris accompanied by “Baby It’s Cold Outside.”
“Could we find a place that’s not playing Christmas music?” she asked.
He didn’t interrogate her, look put off, or even look surprised. Instead, he simply said, “Of course. I remember your coffeeshop was blasting it when I came in. You must be so sick of it.”
She seized on his assumption. It wasn’t the real reason, but it wasn’t wrong, either: shewassick of the coffeeshop’s winter holiday playlist. “If I have to hear ‘I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus’ one more time, I’ll throw a bottle of gingerbread syrup.”
“Understood,” said Norris. “Let’s find a restaurant that’s swimming against the current.”
They went down the row of restaurants, opening and closing doors. Barracuda was playing “The Christmas Shoes.” Shrimp Shack was playing “Funky, Funky X-Mas.” Why So Salty was playing “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.”
“I’m starting to understand how you feel,” Norris said as he hurriedly shut the door on Fish Galore and “Please Daddy (Don’t Get Drunk This Christmas).”
“What if we tried a different type of restaurant?” Annabeth suggested. “There’s a couple on the pier that aren’t seafood, right?”
“Good idea.” Norris strode toward a Mexican restaurant. It was playing “Feliz Navidad.”
The Italian restaurant was playing “Dominick the Italian Christmas Donkey,” featuring actual donkey braying.
Norris squared his shoulders in determination. “Wait! Here we go! There’s one that’s guaranteed to not have Christmas music.” He pointed to Auntie Esther’s Deli. “How do you feel about traditional Jewish deli food?”
“I love it,” said Annabeth, relieved. “My dad’s Christian but my mom’s Jewish. We had a family tradition of going out for lox and bagels on Saturday mornings.”
“Perfect.” He opened the door.
“Oy Chanukah, Oy Chanukah” blasted out. Annabeth recoiled. “Ugh!”
He looked puzzled, then sympathetic. “Oh... Your coffeeshop playlist isn’t just Christmas songs, is it?”
