The host grabs a couple of menus and leads us toward the back of the small restaurant. As we walk, I try to figure out what I want from this night. Do I want to prove Lisa right or wrong? If she’s wrong, and all Sam wants is to be friends, then I’m good. He’s already given us that label, so I’ll just have to learn to move on.
But if she’s right, then what?
“Here you are,” the host says as he seats us. He then explains the specials and ensures us our server will be right over. When he leaves, it’s just me, Sam, and the awkward silence as he stares at me.
I pick at my nails under the table so I don’t squirm under his gaze. “So, how was your other class today?”
“Fine. Sort of a throw-away class, though. I really could have skipped it.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He shrugs. “I needed something to keep me occupied until I got here.”
I narrow my eyes. Was he anticipating this dinner? I’ll never admit that I was, but if he was too, then maybe we do have a chance together. I don’t know how to be certain, though.
“Hello, you two,” our server says as she sets two water glasses down. “Have you perused the menus? Or do you need a minute?”
I give Sam a pointed look. “I know what I want.”
“Of course you do.” He licks his lips and picks up his menu. “Go ahead, I’ll find something quick.”
“Sam, I can wait?”
“No, you go ahead,” he orders. “I’ll find something.”
Well, that wasn’t gentle. Feeling defeated, I turn to the server. “I’ll have the lasagna, please.”
“Sure thing. Do you want that with marinara or Bolognese?”
“Marinara, please.”
She writes it down, then looks at Sam. “And for you, sir?”
“The pesto chicken, please.” He hands her the menu. “And can we order a bottle of wine?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “A whole bottle?”
“Why not? Professor St. James set us up.”
“Our wine list is right there.” The server points to a leather-bound menu on the table. “I’ll go put your orders in while you decide.”
Sam's eyes flick to the wine list, so I grab it. “What kind do you like?” I ask.
“Doesn’t matter to me. Whatever you want.”
I give him an apathetic stare before returning to peruse the menu. At the bottom of the list, I find an interesting caption. “It says here Thursday is two for one. If we buy any bottle at regular price, we get a bottle of the house wine for free.” I lift my excited gaze to Sam’s.
“What’s the house wine?”
“Chianti.”
“So let’s get a white wine to have with dinner. That way, we’re getting a little of both.”
I nod. “Good idea.”
After ordering our wine, the server delivers it rather quickly, and Sam and I raise our glasses in a toast.
“Here’s to our success as study group tutors,” Sam says. “Without us, many of our classmates would’ve changed majors already.”
