“I’ve never tried that, actually.” We walk in silence for a few seconds until he says, “The weather is very nice.”
This further attempt at jumpstarting the conversation makes me smile, but I bite it back. I indulge his efforts, and we carry an entire conversation about the weather all the way to the restaurant.
The place isn’t as packed as I’d hoped, and we get seated near a window, a little isolated from the rest. I go over the menu, using it as an excuse not to have to talk or look at him. I really,reallywant to have pasta, but a shallow part of me considers ordering a salad.
It’s not like Lex hasn’t already seen me naked and doesn’t know I have a fat ass and love handles—which he used to pull me back onto his dick that night. Still, I don’t think it’s something the women he usually dates have.
This is ridiculous. I never worried about what I should eat in front of a man before. It’s so unlike me to be this superficial. Of course I prefer cheese over lettuce, like every single person on this planet.
“Have you made your choice?” the waiter asks when he returns, pulling out a notepad from his black apron.
Lex turns to him, closing his menu. “I’ll have the tagliatelle al gorgonzola.”
Oh… He’s trying my thing. A small smile stretches my lips as I realize he just gave me the perfect excuse to not eat salad. “I’ll take the prosciutto risotto, please,” I ask, grateful for Lex’s unknowing rescue. The waiter then asks for drinks, and we settle on sharing a bottle of San Pellegrino.
“So, how did you get into the world of coding?” Lex asks once we’re alone again, leaning comfortably in his chair.
“My father,” I explain, unable to hold back a grin. “He teaches computer science at a high school. Early on, he used my mom and me asguinea pigs to prepare his classes. I got into it quickly, but my mom gave up after three lessons. My dad gave me special lessons from there, and I think after the first year, I was already better than him at it. I got better all the way to college, where I didn’t really learn anything, but I needed the diploma,” I explain. Lex listens to me keenly, his gray eyes locked into mine. “What about you? How did you become so good at it?”
He takes his time answering, fidgeting with the napkin before him, his eyes absently gazing at his empty glass. “I was always more comfortable with computers,” he eventually says. “I was never very social and rather isolated, so the internet became my shelter from boredom. It provided an inexhaustible source of knowledge, and I couldn’t get enough of it. Video games became a great way to pass the time. I looked into how it was done and attempted to make one myself. That’s how I started. I think I was twelve.”
“You built a whole video game?” I ask, impressed.
“I built several, actually,” he says proudly. “It wasn’t anything impressive, and I clearly had more fun building them than playing.”
The waiter arrives to give us our sparkling water and a breadbasket.
“You have a brother, right?” Lex then asks.
“Yes, Rafael. He’s my polar opposite, outdoorsy, hyperactive, and can’t sit for two hours straight without going mad. He’s a photographer,” I explain. “He’s been in New York for the past three years, but he’s moving back to Portland this month.” After a moment of talking about my brother, I ask Lex if he has any siblings.
“I have three older sisters.” My surprise is almost impossible to mask, and he notices it. “What?”
“I didn’t think you were the youngest.”
“Why is that?”
“In my experience, younger siblings tend to be more… carefree. You’re so serious and responsible all the time. I thought you’d be the eldest or maybe an only child.”
“Ah, yes. I’m afraid my rigidity is a factory setting,” he humorously says.
We talk more about our siblings, and then our plates arrive. I hold back a moan at how good my risotto smells but can’t prevent an appreciative groan at the first bite. Damn, that is delicious.
“Okay, you were right. This is so, so good,” I admit, taking another bite.
Lex eats a forkful of meticulously wrapped tagliatelle and nods once he swallows it. “The pasta is good as well.”
“Not as good as this.” He doesn’t say anything, even though I can tell he agrees.
As we eat, I learn more about his sisters. Two of them are married, and one is engaged. The eldest is Lucy. She’s nine years older than him and has two boys, fourteen and twelve. The second one is Emilia, and she has twin daughters who are five. The youngest of his sisters, Julia, divorced about three years ago and is now getting married again in the spring.
I can tell he’s fond of them. He has a lingering smile on his face, which I find charming. He barely mentions his parents, though, and I don’t ask. Something isn’t quite right there. By the end of the meal, he knows a lot more about my family, and I know a lot more about his.
“I can’t believe you grew up surrounded by women,” I say on our walk back to the office, still surprised by that revelation.
“Why is it so shocking?”
“You didn’t strike me as a women’s advocate the first time we met,” I say boldly. He doesn’t seem annoyed by my statement but rather reflective.
