“That’s fair,” he says.
“I try to be,” I say.
“No,” he says. “I don’t think you do.”
I tilt my head. “Excuse me?”
“I think you try to be accurate,” he says.
“Fair is what happens when accuracy has been handled properly.”
For a moment, I just look at him.
There are men who flirt by complimenting your face. Men who flirt by pretending to be less intelligent than they are. Men who flirt by making the room smaller until you are forced to mistake pressure for attention.
This man has just said something about fairness and accuracy while holding tarragon in a Paris market, and I am irritated by how precisely it lands.
“That is an arrogant sentence,” I say.
“It is also true,” he says.
“Those are not mutually exclusive,” I say.
“No,” he says. “They often travel together.”
The vendor behind the stall makes a soft sound that may be a laugh. I pretend not to hear it because she has already been given too much.
I adjust the basket on my arm.
“Do you often correct strangers at herb stalls?”
He looks at the tarragon in my basket.
“Only when they choose well.”
“That’s a strange reward,” I say.
“You kept the tarragon,” he says.
“I did,” I say.
“Then it worked,” he says.
I should dislike him.
Imaydislike him.
It is possible that I dislike him and want him to keep speaking, which is an unfortunate category I have encountered before and survived with mixed results.
I step to the side so another woman can reach the basil. He shifts with me, not crowding, not chasing, simply making room as if he knows how to move in busy places without forcing anyone to accommodate him. The edge of his forearm brushes the back of my hand for half a second. My attention drops there. Then I force it back up. He sees that too.
“I’m Serena,” I say.
I don’t know why I say it, although that’s not entirely true. I know why. I just don’t particularly respect the reason. His gaze holds mine for a beat longer than necessary.
“Damien,” he says.
No last name. Mine remains unoffered too. The absence feels deliberate on both sides, though neither of us has asked for it.
