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My phone buzzed in my purse. I didn’t answer it, but I knew exactly who it was.
Yeah, it was time to call it.
“Can I interest you in some dessert?”
We turned to find the waiter approaching us with a small paper menu fluttering in his hand.
“Sure,” Adam started, only to be cut off by me.
“Actually, do you mind if I cut the evening short? I’m not really feeling that well. I think the fish is bothering my stomach.”
His surprise morphed into one of immediate concern. Once again, guilt stabbed.
“Yeah, of course. Let me just get the check.”
* * *
Continuingto be the present (and irritating) gentleman that he had been all evening, Adam insisted on accompanying me all the way home. And that was after the dinner he insisted on paying for, even going so far as to yank my credit card out of the server’s hands and shove it toward me.
I let him pay. At that point, it seemed like the safest thing to do.
“It’s fine,” he said several times as we climbed into a Lyft together. “I don’t live that far from here, really.”
“I thought you lived in Park Slope,” I protested even as the car started off down Third Avenue. “That’s in the opposite direction.”
But Adam just offered me a grin. “I can’t let a lady go home by herself.”
He leaned in a little closer, smudged lenses full of intent.
“You, um, have a bit of spinach on your tooth.” I indicated just above my own right incisor.
He flushed and started prodding at it with his tongue. I turned away.
“Feeling better?” he asked once he was finished.
“I am,” I said truthfully. I didn’t want to lie too much. “Maybe the atmosphere of the restaurant was getting to me.”
He smiled. To my surprise, however, when the car stopped in front of my house, Adam followed me out onto the curb and right onto my front stoop. The car remained, clearly waiting for him. Good. He wasn’t expecting an invitation inside.
“I had a really good time tonight,” he told me, pulling at his goatee again.
I masked a cringe. He’d been doing that all night, and I could practically feel the tug of skin on my own face.
“You did?”
The question flew out before I could stop it. I wanted to ask why he was lying. I hadn’t been a particularly engaging date. Honestly, I hadn’t even been trying. And no, I wasn’t ready to ask myself exactly why that was.
Adam leaned closer, a knowing smirk framed by his facial hair and creased skin under his eyes. If I looked hard enough, there were still some crumbs in his chin hairs.
He slid a hand around my waist. I backed away, my shoulder finding the door, but he followed, unwilling to let go.
“Adam,” I tried, no longer willing to make eye contact. “I should really be getting inside.”
“I know,” he said. “But, Frankie, I was hoping for at least a good night kiss.”
I swallowed. There was something distinctly transactional about it all. The car still running behind him was another reminder of everything he had paid for that evening. And now he was expecting his returns.
“Hey,” I said. “Let me give you some cash for dinner, all right? It’s not fair for you to treat me on our pittance.”
