‘Yeah, I guess.’ I brush right past his bold use of the L-word and look over the menu. ‘What looks good to you?’
‘The girl sat opposite me.’ He waits for my reaction to his quip. I let out a somewhat forced laugh in response.
‘I think I’m gonna go for the lángos with cheese,’ I say, after googling an image of lángos on my phone.
‘Looks good. I’ll do the same. So what date is this, then?’
‘Huh?’
‘What number date? You hit the double digits yet? You’re naughty, aren’t you.’ He pauses to lick his lips as he stares me dead in the eye.
‘Sorry, could we not talk about the column?’ I ask. ‘It’s just so hard to be present if it’s lingering on our minds.’
He nods in understanding before calling the waiter over to give our orders. I use the break in conversation to shimmy my laptop back into my bag so I can properly focus on the man across from me.
‘So you said you’re studying abroad, right? What do you study?’ I ask.
‘Business.’ He pauses as the waiter comes over with our two fresh lemonades. ‘So how many dates have you been on this week?’
‘I said no column chat!’ I scold him, attempting to be at least somewhat playful with it.
‘I’m not asking about the column! I’m asking about your date history!’ He smiles smugly at his loophole. ‘I’ve been on three.’
‘This week? It’s Wednesday.’ I grab my glass.
‘Left a girl in my bed this morning to come here,’ he continues.
I choke on my drink. Droplets fly across the table as I cough and splutter while he watches on plainly and waits for me to finish.
‘Sorry.’ My voice is raspy as I reach for a gulp of my tap water. ‘Did you just say you left a girl in your bed this morning?’
‘Yep!’ He declares this with unabashed pride. ‘See, this is what I like about you – you’re dating around just like the rest of us. I can talk to you like one of the guys.’
He lifts his phone and snaps a picture of me, the flash catching me by surprise. He doesn’t notice my shock as he’s too busy staring at the picture, satisfied.
‘My friends are gonnadiewhen they see this. They’ll be so jealous that I’m out with the eighty-dates girl.’
I don’t have it in me to respond – I’m still startled by the candour of his words and actions. Luckily, the waiter slides in with our plates and he’s briefly distracted by the glorious platesof cheese-laden fried bread in front of us. I watch him cut the biggest possible slice he can and practically unhinge his jaw to shovel it in.
‘I have a question,’ he says in between open-mouth chews.
I nod, stunned as I grab my own knife and fork.
‘How far do you go with all of your dates? We talking second base? Third? Or all home runs?’
I can’t help but snort at the audacity. ‘That’s a tad personal, don’t you think?’
He scoffs. ‘I mean, you’re putting it all online, aren’t you? You clearly don’t care about keeping things personal.’ He vigorously chews another chunk of bread, immediately washing it down with a loud sloppy slurp of his lemonade.
‘And I read your Berlin story – I know you’re not a saint.’ He winks.
‘Wow,’ I say.
He smiles back at me, seemingly reading my outright disgust as banter. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t hold it against you. In fact, I was hoping we’d recreate it after lunch.’
He’s sneering at me now, all thirty-two of his teeth on show as he revels in his statement. He cannot be a real person. These cannot be real words. Where would he even put the girl that’s currently waiting in his bed?
No free meal is worth this.
