"Six."
"I run at the same time, but only on weekdays. Let's be running buds. We'd have plenty of time to talk about all sorts of unimportant things."
What the hell is he talking about? Us, hanging out? Weekdays? Running? Buds?
"I usually run around my neighborhood. I don't even know where you live." I bite my lip. "I'll take a wild guess that you don't live anywhere near my crappy apartment, Vince."
"I'll come pick you up. We'll drive to a nearby park and run."
"You don't have to do all that."
Vince laughs, leaning back in his chair and giving me a look that says he's already frustrated with my excuses. "Don't tell me what to do. You're my running bud now. I'll pick you up, you'll embarrass yourself trying to keep up, and I'll drop you back off. No big deal."
I finally laugh, shaking my head.
He gives me a bold smile that I return with skeptical eyes.
"I'll pick you up right at six. We won't drive far. Does that work for you?" Vince asks.
"You really aren't used to not getting your way, are you?"
Vince tries to hold back a smile as he reaches for his phone. "Andy, quit using double negatives and give me your number."
I need to stop smiling at him like a Disney princess.
As the waitress delivers our lunch, Vince hands me his phone, instructing me to put in my number and address. The whole thing feels surreal. I don't understand how my efforts to befriend him are working, but I'm not about to question it.
The rest of lunch flies by.
We chat about running and routines. I'm surprised to learn Vince is a bit of a health nut. He comes off so blasé about life that I hadn't expected it. Vince tells me about growing up in Minnesota. He's one of six kids and the youngest in the family. Both his parents have passed, and now it's just him and his older sister, who has a family of her own. He doesn't go home much anymore.
I tell him about Alaska, how I got into yoga, and why it means so much to me. I leave out the part about moving to LA out of desperation to escape my depression. That feels too heavy for our first lunch.
Vince surprises me again when he talks about his love for classical art and literature. He majored in Classics at university, knows Latin, and stumbled into theater by chance. Connections in the industry led him to acting on film.
It's hard to believe at first, but Vince knows what he's talking about. As an Art History dropout, I test him a bit, and his face lights up every time he proves me wrong. By the end of lunch, I realize something that cracks me up.
Vince is a total nerd.
Realizing this makes me feel more at ease, so by the time we return to work that afternoon I'm filled with a sense of optimism. I even found myself hoping Vince might treat me a little kinder on camera after our lunch.
He doesn't.
He roasts me the entire taping, but I laugh along anyway.
Whenever he gives me that sidelong glance paired with one of his genuine smiles—the same one I'd seen at lunch—I know we're good.
Chapter 6
The Dead Fish Handshake
Andrew
Isitatthecandlelit table for two, nerves wrecking my insides over this first date with Ted.
Choosing what to wear had been a nightmare. I eventually settle on a white button-down and my nicest pair of dark jeans. I feel underdressed, but at least this guy will know what he's getting.
Please, please let Ted look like his photos.
