Mark took the glass from me and dumped it into the planter behind him.
“Hey!” I shrieked, “I needed that! You better buy me another one!”
“I did you a favor,” Mark said, crossing his arms.
“Hardly. I think I’d rather go back to speed dating with the future incel over there.” I jerked my head over to my former speed date. But the blond woman was flirting and laughing with him.
“You’re a software engineer?” she asked with a giggle.
“I can hack your phone,” the guy said.
“Oh really?” she snorted and handed it over.
“What’s your password?”
She told him, and he held up the phone.
“See? Hacked!”
The woman laughed.
Mark was incensed. “That woman called me a lunatic!” he hissed at me. “I have more money and all my hair. How is this not working? He even used a cheesy pickup line.”
I rolled my eyes. The speed date was supposed to be five minutes. Only a minute had gone by on the timer.
“None of my pickup lines were that cheesy,” Mark complained.
“You have a list of pickup lines?” I said, raising an eyebrow.
Mark glared at me defensively. “No.”
“Liar. Let me hear one.”
“No,” he said, his arm moving subtly beside him on the bench. Something fluttered.
“You dropped it under the table!” I said loudly. Mark’s eyes went wide when I scrambled under the table for the list.
“It’s mine!” Mark growled, stuffing his huge form under the small café table. The paper was next to his foot, and I grabbed it. He pinned my wrist in his large hand, his other trying to pry open my fingers.
“Good luck,” I taunted, squeezing my fist tight. “You can try to take it back, but I’m a seamstress, and my hands are hella strong! You don’t want me to give you a hand job, because I’ll twist your dick off.”
Mark looked at me apprehensively. “That’s—that’s not—”
I used the distraction to reach down and tickle the bare skin under his dress pant leg with my nails. Mark jerked up and banged his head under the table. The motion made me release my grip on the list. Mark and I both snatched at the scrap of paper, but I was smaller and quicker. Prize in hand, I scrambled back up to my seat.
I read the list aloud as Mark tried to extricate all six foot five of himself from under the table.
“‘Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes?’” I chortled, reading from the list.
“That’s not yours!” Mark protested.
“‘Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got FINE written all over you.’” I blew a raspberry. “Lame.”
“Give that back!” He swiped across the table at me.
“These are terrible.”
“Like you could do any better.”
