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A small smile hit my lips when I saw that it was Lincoln. He’d finally given me his first name two days ago, excluding his last name, of course. And although I thought this would fizzle out, here we were, six days after that first text, still messaging throughout the day.
I think I broke my back lifting today, the text read.
Poor baby. Well, I got tricked into going on a date, so I might win.
His text was instantaneous.You're on a date?
I used the restroom and washed my hands before answering him.
I wastrickedinto a date, I corrected him.Doesn’t count. We were supposed to meet here for a study group, and weirdly, the other two didn't show up…
Lincoln: Why don't you leave?
Because I’m hungry and he convinced me to order a steak…and that sounds much better than the Top Ramen I’ve got waiting for me at home. Plus, I can maybe get some of the project done.
I can send you a steak,Lincoln texted back.
Again, a lot of times I found text messages to be unhelpful when reading people's emotions, but Lincoln sounded almost…jealous.
I rolled my eyes and texted back what I always texted when he said something ridiculous.
You shouldn't offer money to strangers. I think I’ve told you this before.
Lincoln: We’re not strangers, remember? I'm your best friend.
I chuckled and slid my phone back into my pocket as I returned to the table.
"I don't think I've ever seen you smile like that before,” Connor commented.
I blushed, my smile slipping away. "I think I’m too tired for that most of the time…should we start working on the project while we wait for the food?"
"No, the project can wait. I'd love to get to know you better," he said.
I nodded, trying not to look like I hated everything about this night, and decided I’d give it a few minutes before forcing us to work on the project.
"Are you from Texas originally?" he asked.
"The Houston area, but yes."
Before he could ask what brought me to Dallas, I began to pepper him with questions. It was a skill I’d learned. People usually enjoyed talking about themselves, and if you asked them the right questions, you could avoid talking almost entirely.
As he told me a story about playing for his high school baseball team, I pulled my phone out from my purse, keeping it under the table as I read the text that had come in from Lincoln.
Lincoln: I think you should just leave. Fuck this guy.
"Everything okay?” Connor asked, annoyance etched on his face.
I forced out a smile. "Yes, sorry. I’m expecting a text about work and wanted to check if it came through yet. I could use the night off tomorrow.”
He seemed to buy what I said and continued talking about himself. I learned about his major in accounting and his love for golf, both equally boring topics.
The waitress arrived with the meal, and I stared at my plate excitedly as she walked away.
I’d taken my first bite, however, when the waitress returned to the table, her ruby red lips curled into a frown.
"I'm so sorry, but the restaurant is closing for the night.”
Connor stared around the room at the patrons, who had suddenly started leaving, his face completely bewildered.
