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“I hope so,” he says, back to that sheepish smile from earlier last night.
A knot forms in my throat.
Is this a date?
This cannot be a date.
Of course not. We are kind-of coworkers. Who happened to have sex last night. That’s all there is to it.
Again, he should want absolutely nothing to do with my craziness.
I just have to remind him of that.
* * *
I spend the next ten minutes throwing bread to ducks and telling Walsh all of the flakiest stories that I can think about myself.
The time that I accidentally boarded a plane without my carry-on bag.
The time that I left a country without my travel companion by mistake.
The time that I wanted to be an actress and took a job for a foot fetish website, again, by mistake.
Walsh did not seem to be deterred by any of these stories. Instead, he was attentive and intrigued. He asked questions. He laughed when appropriate.
I cannot seem to find a way to break him… to reallyconvincehim that I am a person that he should be running away from as fast as humanly possible.
“You know,” I tell him, suddenly thinking of a key piece of information that may work. “I have never been in a serious relationship. I’ve never even been in love.”
He looks at me questioningly, like he is not sure if he should believe me. “Well, how long was yourlongestrelationship?”
I think back. “Three months.”
He weighs my answer.
“But that was in high school,” I amend. “Since then? I think I haven’t dated anyone for more than, like, a month. Tops. And that was just to make sure that I got out of the country safely.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Wow. You’re all talk, aren’t you?”
It’s my turn to be surprised. I square off to him and say, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m saying that you told me that you didn’t want to be fucking scared like I am, but clearly you are. You just present it in a different way. You run away. I stay put. Same fear. Different reaction.”
He says this to me so casually, so calmly, like he hasn’t dropped a bomb on my entire psychological state of being.
Am I fucking scared?
I thought I was just flighty. On a good day, I fancied myself interesting. Worldly, even. But now, this guy who has known me for less than a day thinks that he suddenly has me all figured out?
“Hang on a minute,” I say, not ready to let this go without a fight. “You don’t even know me. You think you do, but you have no idea. I am strong and I go after what I want in life. And what I want right now is for you to take me back to the office. Right. Now.”
He laughs. He actuallylaughsat me.
Then he takes a step closer to me and says, “And I want to go on a date with you. A real date. And if you aren’t fucking scared, I dare you to meet me tonight at 7 at Barney’s on Maple. And if you are, then I will see you tomorrow morning at the office and we will pretend like none of this ever happened.”
I swallow.
I can feel his breath on my face and I want to kiss him so badly.
