Page 17 of Quit Playing Games with My Heart

“Sure,” he said, handing one over with a bright smile. “If you have any questions, just ask.”

“Oh, I will,” I said nervously, accepting the menu.

The menu was one of the kind that didn’t have any pictures. I let out a disappointed sigh and bit my lip as I struggled over the text. The lettering was crisp and neat, but that didn’t stop the words from shifting around before my eyes and rendering themselves completely unreadable. Some fonts were easier to make out with dyslexia, but what I was seeing wasn’t one of them.

I glanced around anxiously for the server, my heart rate kicking up. I didn’t want to think about what might happen if Sam caught me trying and failing to read something as simple as a menu. I already knew what happened when people discovered I was functionally illiterate. They laughed and sneered and ran me out of town on a rail. Well, not a rail exactly, but they made it impossible to stick around with my head held high.

I caught the waiter’s eye and flagged him over. “Need help?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat, heat rising up my neck to my face. “Could you, um, tell me more about this dish?” I pointed randomly to something on the page.

The server smiled. “That’s the roasted Brussels sprouts with maple bacon starter,” he said. “One of my favorites.”

I winced. I had hoped I was pointing to a main. “And this?” I asked, pointing farther down the page.

The server gave me a brief, curious look. “That’s the vegetarian smashburger with black beans,” he said. “Served with a side of sweet potatoes. Another really good choice.”

“Oh,” I said.

The server must have guessed a few things then. “We’ve got a few mains, herb roasted chicken with butter beans, pork ribs with tangy barbecue sauce, or if fish is your thing, the chef makes a mean fish pie. Do you need me to read off the ingredients for each one?”

“Um, I⁠—”

Before I could beg the server to do exactly that, the door opened and Sam strolled in. As soon as he saw me, he burst into a broad smile.

I let go of the menu and jumped away from the server as if he’d been offering me crack instead of helping me to save face.

“Hey,” Sam greeted me. He swept a look over me and said, “Wow, you look amazing.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I grinned in return. And then, because the buzz of anxiety inside me was a little too much, I said, “I got here early and was checking out the menu.” He didn’t need to know why.

“Smart idea,” Sam said. He reached me and leaned in to kiss my cheek. The gesture took me completely by surprise and had my head spinning.

I was in a blur for a second as Sam stepped to the side to check in with the hostess. After he did, I noticed the server I’d been talking to zipping in to whisper something in the hostess’s ear. She nodded, and I wasn’t at all surprised a few seconds later when she sat us at what turned out to be one of my server friend’s tables.

“Hi guys, I’m Emanuel, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” he said. “Can I get you started with something to drink? We have all the usuals, water, soda, iced tea, and tonight we have a special mojito to beat the heat.”

I smiled gratefully at the man. He was going to help me get through this date and save face.

“The mojito sounds nice,” Sam said, relaxed and gorgeous. “Do you want one?”

“Sure,” I said, starting to relax myself. I could do this. I could enjoy the date, get to know Sam, and not worry about embarrassing myself and revealing how dumb I was.

I immediately heard my mom’s voice in my head telling me I wasn’t dumb, I just needed to apply myself, but since my mom was the last person I wanted in my head on a date with Sam, I ignored her.

“It’s nice to finally sit down together outside of work and without the audience we usually get at home,” Sam opened the conversation as soon as Emanuel left to fetch our drinks.

“It is,” I said, telling myself everything would be okay, Sam and I actually knew each other pretty well, and the whole date thing was just a formality. “And to talk without the specter of games night competition hanging over our heads,” I joked.

Sam laughed. I loved that sound. I could seriously get used to it. “Absolutely,” he said. “And even though I’ve already said it before, your games night idea was brilliant.”

“I just hope we can keep it up and that everyone who came to both nights last week comes again,” I said.

Half a second later, I caught how many innuendos I’d inadvertently stuffed into that one sentence. My face heated so hard it could probably be seen from space.

Sam definitely caught my words. He flushed, too, but on him it looked hot and inviting, like he was definitely hoping that was where the night would take us. “Oh, people will definitely come again,” he said, dropping his voice a little.

It was probably a good thing that Emanuel came back with our drinks right then. He took our orders as well, coaching me seamlessly through choosing what to eat without me having to look at the intimidating menu once. Even better, Sam didn’t seem any wiser about my struggles.