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“It—It is?”
“Of course it is,” I answered, as if the observation were obvious. “But then you have the added danger of competition, too. I mean, what if you beat me and I resented it? Or even better, what if I beat you?”
“But you did beat me.”
I smiled prettily. “See? There’s my point.”
My date looked around again, as he had when trying to find the server who brought us our drinks. His eyes were different this time, though. They were shiftier now, almost panicked.
“As a freelance publicist, I’m not sure how you synergize the intimacy of physical closeness with the pitfalls of a competitive—”
“Can you excuse me for a second?” Chris asked abruptly. “I… I need to run to the men’s room.”
“Sure. Knock yourself out.”
Chris left, and I resisted the temptation to drain his beer as well. He’d barely touched it, and after a minute or two the beads of condensation running down the sides of his pint glass were outright beckoning to me.
Relax, Ariana.
It had been a tough week. The coffee shop was busier than ever, and people seemed to be on edge. I was looking forward to this date, as random as it was. Meeting people online could be like that, though. No matter what their profile looked like or how many interests and hobbies you lined up on, going out and sitting across from a perfect stranger was always a roll of the dice.
“Umm, excuse me, miss?”
Our server was back. I tilted my head in the direction of the restrooms.
“I’ll wait for him before ordering, thanks.”
“Yeah, umm…” His expression was troubled. “That’s what I was going to talk to you about. I’m afraid your friend left.”
I sat up a little straighter. “My… friend.”
“Yes.”
“What do you mean he left?”
The man gripped his serving tray a little more defensively against his chest. “Well I don’t know how to say this—”
“Just say it, then.”
“He climbed out the window,” the server said apologetically. “The bathroom window.”
There was a second of confusion, followed by two seconds of shock. Then my brows came together.
“Wait… what?”
“We only know because there was a commotion, and the window shattered,” he explained. “It was a small window. Really small, actually. I still don’t know how he managed to get out. But there was a lot of glass, and there was some blood too, and—”
“Blood!?”
“Not a lot of blood,” the man added hastily. “I don’t think so, anyway. They’re cleaning it up now.”
A resounding cheer went up from one of the axe-throwing stalls. Either someone had scored a bullseye, or a group of six or eight fraternity brothers were celebrating my latest dating disaster in unison.
He climbed through a window.
Holy fucking shit.
A tiny window…
