“You’re meandering.”
Another habit he often accused me of. I crossed my arms over my chest. “You asked me for the story,” I reminded him.
“I did,” he acknowledged. “Go on.”
“Anyway, I didn’t exactly know what I was doing or what I should talk about. I talked about my job. I mean that’s a thing, right? People talk about their work on dates.”
“So I’m told.”
“Anyway, I talked about you, how you’re really smart, and, well, what I do all day.”
“Kenny wasn’t impressed?”
“No,” I huffed. “He said he didn’t want to spendourdate with me talking aboutsome guy.That’s what he called you,some guy.”
“The little shit,” he said, as if he knew Kenny.
“Right? I told him, E.G. is notsomeguy.He’sthe guy.I mean, you are. You’re my boss. You’re a significant person in my life right now. We spend like, fifty to sixty hours a week working together. Who else would I talk about?”
“Exactly,” he agreed.
I nodded, feeling somewhat justified. I wasn’t obsessed with my work, something else Kenny had accused me of, I simply liked my job. It was important to me. It was new and hard and came with all these obstacles. And E.G. was important to me.
Maybe he’s not supposed to be. Maybe I shouldn’t care about his eye strain.
“How did it end?” he asked.
I don’t know. I don’t know how this ends.
But that wasn’t what he meant. “Not well,” I admitted.
“Do tell.”
“I didn’t have anything to say after he said he didn’t want to talk about work. It’s not like I have a list of hobbies in my back pocket. Things mostly ended in awkward silence. Then we split the bill and I called an Uber.”
“You split the bill?” he asked, the corners of his mouth turning down. “So he’s a cheap little shit.”
“I offered,” I said, defending Kenny. That was actually a pretty great memory from the night. That feeling of freedom. Strength. Maybe even a little power. I didn’t owe Kenny anything for a night out. “Do you know how happy I am that I can pay for my own dinner?”
“I’m sure it’s thrilling,” he drawled. “It’s not how a proper date works. You wouldn’t know because you’ve only been on one. Apparently, with a cheap little shit.”
“Okay, just to be technical, Kenny was over six feet tall.”
“Doesn’t matter. A man asks you out, he pays for the date.”
“That’s so 20thcentury of you.”
“Hmm,” then he looked at me like he was reading something in my head. “He said something that bothered you, though. Beyond him just not wanting to talk about your work.”
“You don’t know that.” Except he was right. I wasn’t going to say it out loud though. It was too embarrassing.
“You wouldn’t have brought up the date at all, if it wasn’t still on your mind. And given that it was a total disaster-”
“I wouldn’t say total disaster,” I corrected him. “He didn’t get up from the table and leave. It was just uneventful.”
“Except for the thing he said to you. That has bothered you so much you had to hold it in all day Sunday, waiting until first thing Monday morning to dump it on me. Now tell me what it was.”
I scrunched up my nose. “I sort of hate you’re the only person I know in Houston.”
