I would never have known how to justify my behaviour, otherwise. I’m certainly not going to apologise, although I realise I may have taken things a little too far.
“The idea of having me as a date? Or the idea of needing a date in general?”
I sigh and decide to be truthful. “Both.”
He nods. He doesn’t seem annoyed.
“At least you’re honest.”
“Listen, if I could avoid going to this thing, I would.”
“What kind of thing is it?”
“A dinner.”
“Jake already told me that – he mentioned something about investors?”
Jake is always good at omitting the details.
“In a way, yeah. I guess we could call them investors.”
He studies me, unconvinced.
“Come back inside.” I nod towards the restaurant behind us. “We can talk more. Maybe over a bowl of pasta.”
It’s all I can give as a peace offering.
He glances behind me, then sticks his hands into his pockets, shaking his head.
“I’d rather talk here, because I don’t think there’s much left to say. Dinner is on Saturday, right?”
“Exactly.”
“And I’m assuming it’s formal?”
“More or less.”
I’m scared to ask whether or not he owns a tux.
“Don’t tell me I’ll need a tux?” he asks then, joking, but my expression makes him serious. “Remind me again… What kind of dinner is it, exactly?”
“You don’t need to wear a tux, okay? Just any kind of suit is fine.” I look him up and down. “Preferably a black one.”
He studies me, too. He doesn’t seem offended by my once-over.
“Black suit,”he says. “I think I can make that work.”
“And a tie, obviously. And a light-coloured shirt. White would be ideal.”
“Anything else?” he asks, one eyebrow piqued.
I can tell he’s barely holding back a ‘fuck you’.
I have to admit, I wouldn’t have held it back.
“I think that’s everything. I’ll come by at six. Give me your address – actually, better give me your number.” I take my phone from my pocket. “I have to go back inside. They’ll need me in the kitchen.”
He tells me his phone number without objection, and I quickly key it into my contacts list, slipping the phone back into my pocket.
