We looked at each other. At the gym, we argued naturally. On fake dates, there had always been a task. Now we had no role except ourselves. Amy touched the watch.
“This is awkward.”
“Thank God.”
“You agree?”
“I thought you were about to ask about my five-year plan.”
“I had considered it.”
“Clearly. You prepared questions.”
“Of course.”
She opened her handbag. I put my hand over it.
“No.”
“They are conversation prompts.”
“We know each other.”
“Not in this context.”
“What context?”
“Dating.”
I leaned forward.
“What do you want to know that you couldn’t ask before?”
Amy thought without reaching for the question list in her bag.
“What does a serious relationship look like to you?”
I almost asked for the prompts back.
“I don’t know.”
“Have you had a serious relationship?”
“Six months.”
“What ended it?”
“I did. She wanted more.”
“And you didn’t?”
“I wanted the idea of more. When it became practical, I felt trapped.”
Amy listened without judgment.
“What became practical?”
“Meeting family. Planning holidays. Leaving things at each other’s apartments.”
