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I enlarge it and put it in front of Jake. His eyes widen, then Mae steals the phone.
“Okay, I’m in,” Jake says.
“You’d be an idiot not to be.” Mae hands me back my phone.
“Great. Do you want to go alone?” I ask.
“I really don’t want to go with Enzo.”
I laugh. “Okay, so…?”
“I’ll go alone. I’m not twelve.”
Phew. I didn’t know how I would survive dinner with Enzo. The man would be sending me texts and probably fingering me under the table. One day I won’t be like a shiny new toy for him to play with. That thought makes me sad, so I push it away.
“Great. I’ll let him know.”
Me: Jake says it a go. How do you want this to happen? Are you going to call your sister?
Enzo: I’m bothered that my texts and emails are being filled with setting my sister up. Go to the bathroom and send me a pic of your tits.
“There’s that damn smirk again. Are you dating someone?” Mae reaches to grab my phone, but I slide back the chair, knocking into the man behind me.
“I’m so sorry.”
His wife gives me a dirty look while handing him a napkin for the spoonful of soup all over his shirt. I shoot Mae a look like “look what you made me do.”
“It’s okay,” the older gentleman says.
I pluck the napkin Jake is about to use and hand it to the man, along with my own.
“Was that not mine?” Jake pretends to look around as if he’s missing something.
“Thank you, dear. Accidents happen,” the man says.
His wife’s scowl indents further, so I back off and sit back down.
“My napkin?” Jake says.
“Sorry, it was an emergency.” I stand up to head to the counter and grab him a handful of napkins.
On my way back, I spot Mae glancing across the table at my phone, which I accidentally left face up, as the screen lights up.
It happens like it’s in slow motion—me trying to get back to the table while a crowd of people walk toward me. I say excuse me, slide past the strangers, unable to reach the table fast enough. Mae’s eyes widen in shock. She’s probably staring at a picture of Enzo’s dick. My only saving grace is that Jake still looks clueless. Until he leans forward to drink his Coke.
“Excuse me.” I dance to the right then to the left with a man who seems to feel just as awkward as I do with us being unable to get by one another.
When I finally reach the table, I drop the stack of napkins, but I’m too late. They’re both gaping at me.
“It’s true?” Mae’s tone holds a hint of judgment.
I slump into my chair, pushing my sandwich to the middle of the table because I won’t be finishing it now.
My phone vibrates with text after text. Damn Enzo and his inability to have any patience. I pick up my phone to see exactly what they saw.
Enzo: I’m still waiting.
Enzo: Don’t worry, I’ll close the blinds when I’m eating “lunch”.
