“Although mushroom can be a bit boring after a while. I tend to take risotto as a side dish.” Why am I going on and on about risotto? We may as well be talking about the weather again.
The server comes back. He puts a breadbasket near the center of the table. They are small rolls that look freshly baked. He opens the bottle, pours a small measure for Flint, who lifts the glass and takes a considered sip and nods.
Then he holds the bottle out in my direction. “Can I offer you some wine?”
“Yes, please.” I need something to take the edge off.
The waiter pours a tiny trickle, which annoys me.
“Are you ready to order?” he asks us.
Flint looks over at me, and I widen my eyes, panicking at having to choose right away.
He smiles. “Not just yet.”
“Take all the time you need,” the server says. He leaves us again.
I tear off a small piece of bread roll. It’s good. Nice and soft inside with a little crust.
Flint pours me some more wine.
“Thanks.”
He’s attentive and really nice. Why can’t I feel anything? Whhhyyyyy?
“How long have you been at Security Central?” I ask.
He puts the menu down. “I started on the frontline detail about six or seven years ago and worked my way up to Flight Captain.” He turns his wine glass once, slowly. “Three years ago, Magma asked me to step up as his second-in-command. I said yes.”
“Oh wow. You obviously have good leadership skills.”
“It’s a good role. The work is different from the frontline, but I wasn’t chasing rank, really. I followed the work.” He looks at me. “What about you? You’re Robyn’s PA?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“I do. I love it, actually.”
“Is it strange to work for a friend?”
“You’d think it might be, but no. We separate it pretty well. At work, she’s Dr. Keller, and I’m her PA. After hours we’re just us.” I put down my bread. “You’d know the dynamic. I mean, what about you and Magma? You’re friends, aren’t you?”
“That’s true,” he says. “Same thing, more or less.”
The server comes back. He takes our orders, duck for Flint and the salmon for me.
Then he goes.
Flint lifts his wine glass across the table. “To a good evening.”
I pick up my glass and clink it against his. We both drink.
He smiles at me, and I know in that instant that there’s nothing there. I’m not attracted to him. Not anymore.
I don’t know when it stopped. I’m not entirely sure it was ever quite what I thought it was to begin with. Maybe it’s me.
All I know is that I need to be honest with him. This isn’t going to go anywhere.
