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He tosses his phone in front of me on the table. “Have at my history.”
I push it aside. “No thanks.”
“Are you going to like me back?”
“Why do you care?” I circle my chair to face forward.
“It’s insulting to have a super like out there and not get one in return. I don’t pay, so I only get one of those a day.”
I chuckle. “For someone who doesn’t do Tinder, you sure know a lot about it.”
“My brother Carm loves it. Told me it would change my life.”
“Sounds like a great guy.”
“I wouldn’t suggest you swipe right for him. No.”
I zero in on the study group because this whole getting-to-know-each-other thing feels weird and awkward, but I’ll admit that it’s enlightening. The man I thought was a grade-A asshole is turning into a grade-A piece of goodness. “What’s with all the questions anyway?”
His pen seesaws on the table. Click. Click. Click. Click.
“Babies are boring,” I change the subject since he doesn’t seem to want to answer.
“I lost a bet to my brothers.”
This should be good.
“How many brothers do you have?” I glance at him.
“Two. One older, one younger. And a baby sister.” He focuses on the group.
“Was the bet about Tinder? Or where to pick up guys?”
He laughs. “No. My three cousins just found love and my mom’s depressed because her three boys are all still bachelors.”
I nod in understanding. “Getting some pressure from your mom about settling down?” I jot down another note about two moms interacting and how one walked away rolling her eyes after the other tried to instruct her how to position the bottle.
“All my life. I’m Italian.”
“Really? I never would have known,” I deadpan.
“Now that my cousins are in love and two have already fallen on bended knee, my mom seems like she’s in a depression or something. Especially since none of us even have a girlfriend.”
I flash him a smile. “I don’t know what that’s like. My dad doesn’t say much about me being single.”
Correction: My dad doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t ask about my love life, and I don’t think he cares if I end up a spinster with fifty cats or if I marry next year. He’s always been about Beth and I being happy.
“You’re lucky.”
We sit in silence, both of us jotting down notes. Truthfully, I don’t see how we’re getting anything from this. Just when I think the conversation is over, he starts it up again.
“My brothers came up with a plan.”
“I can only imagine.”
“It’s a good plan. Sort of. It’s more my brothers’ plan, but I see the possibility of success.”
“You’re being vague.”
