I reach for the last piece of bruschetta so that I won’t have to say anything else, but as my hand gets close to it, I realize that Oliver is reaching for it at the same time. When he notices that I’m going for it, he backs off. “You can have it,” he says.
“No, no,” I say, pulling my hand back. “Take it.”
“Seriously,” he says. “It’s all yours.”
“I don’t even want it anymore,” I tell him.
“If neither of you take it, I’ll make the decision for you and eat it myself,” Tina warns us.
I look at Oliver. He divides a glance between me and the bruschetta. Before he can react, I grab the last piece and I stuff it against his closed mouth. Most of the toppings end up all over his chin. He stares at me in shock, eyes wide, before he opens his mouth and scrapes the bruschetta and all the pieces of tomato and cheese from his chin into his mouth.
“I’ll get you back for that,” he warns me.
I stick my tongue out. “I’ll be waiting.”
When our plates arrive, the table gets quiet again as we all take our first bites. Without looking at Oliver, I’m acutely aware of every move he makes, every time he picks up his fork or swirls his pasta before bringing it up to his mouth. I’m also aware of Tina watching us from across the table. I can’t tell if it’s because she knows something is up or if she’s just excited that we’re all eating dinner together.
“This is good,” I say to fill the silence around a mouthful of lasagna.
“What are you two doing for the weekend?” Tina asks.
I look at Oliver. He stuffs a forkful of food in his mouth so that he doesn’t have to answer. This is another thing we should have talked about to get our story straight. Of course Tina would assume we’re spending the weekend together if she thinks we’re dating.
I scramble to think of what we might be doing and blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind: “We’re going to the farmers’ market.”
Oliver shoots a look at me that I know means, “We are?” while Tina raises an eyebrow and says, “That sounds like fun. Maybe Ryan and I can join you.”
Great. Now I have to follow through with this fake plan, and keep putting on a show with Oliver while I’m at it. I’ve never even been to the farmers’ market. I don’t know what people do there.
“Of course,” I hear myself say. “That will be so much fun.”
Oliver leans over and wraps an arm around me. The unexpected contact makes me jump. My wine sloshes and spills on my shirt. I’m not wearing white, but it’s still going to stain.
“Oh no,” I groan, looking down at the red mark on my chest.
“I’m so sorry,” Oliver says. He grabs a napkin and starts dabbing it onto the stain, which happens to be right on my boob. I’m frozen in my seat, my arms up at my sides. Oliver notices that he’s touching my boob, and he freezes too. We meet each other’s eyes. It’s clear that neither of us knows how to proceed.
On one hand, since we’re not actually dating, him touching my boob isn’t exactly appropriate. But since Tina and Ryan think wearedating, it might seem weirder if either of us makes a big deal out of this.
Oliver must be thinking the same thing, because he resumes dabbing a couple more times, then says, “You’re probably going to have to soak it when we get home.”
Tina shakes her head. “You need to soak it right now or that shirt will be ruined.” She stands up, ready to head to the bathroom with me.
I stay in my seat. “I don’t have an extra shirt.”
“I have one in my car,” she says. “I always have one. Come on. Meet me in the bathroom and we’ll take care of that stain.”
I get up and head to the bathroom while Tina goes outside. By the time she makes it back, I already have my shirt off and I’m rinsing it in the sink.
“You and Oliver are so cute together,” she says now that we’re alone. She takes over rinsing my shirt while I put on the one she brought.
“Thanks.” I feel bad about taking the compliment, knowing that we’re not actually together.
I catch my reflection in the mirror and do a doubletake. The shirt Tina gave me is way more lowcut than I’m normally comfortable with. She sees me staring and says, “Don’t worry. You look hot.”
I roll my eyes. “I feel like I’m going to be flashing everyone in the restaurant.”
“Oliver will like it,” she says with a wink.
