The hostess handed us menus and filled our water glasses.
Saylor took one look at her menu, slammed it closed, and paled. “Gabe, we don’t need to eat here. The fish… it’s like, really expensive and you’re a college student and—”
“It’s fine.” I fought the urge to laugh out loud. I couldn’t spend all my money even if I wanted to. “Trust me.”
Her eyes narrowed. She crooked her finger for me to lean in.
“Do you sell drugs?”
“Holy shit!” I burst out laughing. “No! What the hell? Why would you think I sold drugs?”
She winced. “Mood swings, nice car, money, er, yeah, I’m just going to disappear under the table now.”
“I would love—” I accentuated the word love. “—to see what trouble you could get into under the table.”
“Ah-ha!” She pointed her fork at me.
I shoved it to the side.
“There you go again!”
“Go? I’m right here.”
“No.” She set the fork down and picked up her knife. To be safe I leaned back. “You do this all the time.”
“And by all the time you mean like in the last few times you’ve met me?”
“Don’t be an ass,” she muttered.
“You say ass funny, like you’re embarrassed you’re saying it.”
“Ass.” This time it was loud, unapologetic, hot as hell. “Better?”
“Yeah,” I croaked, felt it too.
“And don’t try to get me off topic. You do that too.”
“No idea what you’re talking about.” I lifted my napkin to my forehead and patted. I was officially sweating. It was like we were on Law and Order and I was on the bad side of the metal desk. Sitting in a metal chair. Balls to the metal. Wincing.
“One minute you’re charming anything with a pulse, the next minute you look so angry you want to set me on fire, and then all of a sudden it’s like you snap out of it.”
I shrugged. “Maybe I’m mentally unstable.”
Saylor pointed the knife towards me, an unapologetic look on her face.
“Hell, put the knife down, I was kidding.”
Our waiter arrived. “Would you two like to hear the specials?”
“Fish.” I watched Saylor’s expression with interest. She had a facial expression for everything. It was…distracting. “What’s the fish of the day?”
“We have a lovely salmon that’s—”
“Good.” I handed over the menus. “Two of those, and can you bring some bread and sparkling water?”
“Sure. Salads?”
“Caesar,” Saylor and I said in unison