“I’d try a land scorpion if given the opportunity.” I shrug. “Maybe. Sea scorpion or not, lobster’s delicious.”
“I’ll pretend I believe you, but—”
“Do you notknow? Have you never tried lobster?”
“I refuse to eat lobster on principle, because it’s gross.”
I would bet money that the Alex I left behind in my first life had tried lobster, but the more I think about it, the more I guess it isn’tsurprising that this Alex hasn’t yet. Alex was always open about his working-class roots growing up in a small town in New Jersey. Wore those roots like a sort of obnoxious badge of pride after he made all his money.
I pause, realizing how quickly I got sucked back into conversation with him.
“Confident lobster hate from someone who’s never even tasted it,” I say.
I’m about to tell him to fuck off when he abruptly stands and says, “Fine. Let’s go.”
“What?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“Let’s go get lobster.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
“What happened to your principles?”
“Fuck principles. I’d rather get dinner with you.”
“I’m not getting dinner with you right now,” I tell him.
“That’s okay, I’m open to a rain check.” He grins, then adds, “If you give me your number, we can set something up.”
Jesus. “You think you’re pretty smooth, don’t you.”
His grin only widens, and he ignores my comment. “Have dinner with me. I’ll buy. If you still don’t want to give me your number after, I’ll leave you alone and never bother you again.”
I open my mouth to protest but find myself pausing. I’m hungry. It’s a free meal. An easy way to get him out of my hair. And—maybe most important—it’s a distraction.
I’ve hardly thought of Ellie since Alex came into the picture.
“Okay. Fine. One dinner—but it’s not a date. And not lobster.”
“Why not?” He frowns. I can’t tell if he’s protesting the fact that it’snot a date or that I’ve vetoed lobster until he sarcastically adds, “I mean, if it’ssodelicious.”
“You’re a college freshman. You can’taffordlobster.”
“I have a part-time job.” He shrugs. “I can think of worse things to spend my paycheck on than dinner with a pretty girl.”
One dinner. Not a date.
“Besides,” he continues, “now Ineedto try lobster. It’ll be disgusting, and I’ll win this conversation.”
He’sstill standing. I stand too, just because it feels weird to be staring up at him.
“I didn’t realize this conversation was a competition,” I say, though, really, I should have. Everything is a competition to Alex. He said that in an interview once. That’s what drove him to amass so much wealth—he saw life as a competition, one he was determined to win.
“All conversations are competitions,” he remarks offhandedly.
My phone vibrates with an incoming call. I glance down and see it’s my mom.
