I bite my tongue. Because if this were a real date, I’d be flirting like it was my damn job, tossing out incentives and teasing about a gold star system. But this is not a real date, so I open my menu and pore over it like it’s the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen and not a standard list of diner fare that I’ve read a dozen times.
Our server stops by, and we place our order. Our drinks arrive soon after and I’m sipping my iced tea when Will asks, “So, did you bring the cards?”
“Not this time,” I answer. “Because you don’t really need them. Think of them like training wheels, right? You needed them at first, but you can do it on your own now.”
Will scratches his chest and frowns. “You seem awfully sure of that for someone who just met me a couple weeks ago.”
“You’ve got this, trust me.”
“Uh…trust me, I don’t. Do you even remember what happened the first time we went out?”
“Vividly,” I tell him. “But look how far you’ve come. We have good conversations all the time, you haven’t stolen my drink tonight, and you’re throwing a little flirtation my way. Don’t think I didn’t notice. That’s progress. I am totally confident that you can start a conversation without any assistance.”
Our food arrives, and I busy myself with fixing my burger just the way I like it when Will asks, “So, how was your orientation thing today? Are you doing anything fun at this job site?”
“Depends on your definition of fun,” I tell him. “I’m observing a few different people. One of the women runs payroll, another guy does audits, and there’s also a woman who does budget forecasting. That seems like the most interesting position to me, not that it really matters. I know everyone says you should pick a career you love, and I get that, but can anyone truly say they love accounting?”
Will dips one of his fries in ketchup and takes a bite, then asks, “How did you get into accounting?”
“I’ve always been good at math, and I liked it more than any other subject. It just makes sense, you know? Your numbers either add up, or they don’t. There are no gray areas, and I like that.”
“You like it, but you don’t love it?”
I shake my head. “Love is a pretty strong word, don’t you think? But I do it well, and it doesn’t bore me to tears. I think that’s pretty good. What about you? Do you love kinesiology?”
“I do, actually. I mean, I hope I go pro and stick around long enough that I never really have to put my degree to use, at least not to pay the bills, but it’s pretty useful stuff for an athlete.”
“I can see that,” I say. “I mean, Ian loves teaching, and Phoebe loves helping people process trauma through art. And Josie loves matching the perfect book with the perfect person. I guess I should be jealous of all of you. I’ve never really felt that spark in terms of my career, but I’m not too upset about it. I just think accounting isn’t the type of job that inspires great passion.”
Will nods in agreement, and we take a little time to eat our meals. We’re quiet, but it’s not bad or awkward.
“So, uh, I don’t wanna rush you or anything,” Will says, “but should we get started on our next lesson?”
I smile. “What do you think we’re doing right now?”
“Eating burgers.”
“Yeah, obviously. But we’re also talking. And I should point out that you started the conversation without any prompting from me. See? You’re doing great.”
Will’s not convinced. “But that’s because it’s you, and I know you. And we get along. And I’m not a total nervous wreck around you. Well, not anymore. But what about when I’m on my own with someone I barely know?”
“I really think you’ll be fine, but ok, let’s talk about it. Hit me with your hardest questions. What are you most worried about?”
Will sighs and steals a French fry from my plate. He eats it and then shrugs. “Um, everything? You saw what a disaster I was. How do you know that won’t happen again?”
“Because you won’t let it,” I tell him, resting my arm along the vinyl-covered booth. “Answer me this. Do you get nervous before a big game?”
“Of course,” he says, nabbing another fry.
“But do you down too many tequila shots before face-off? Or get yourself so revved up you split your pants?”
“No way. But again, that’s hockey. I love hockey. I’m confident on the ice. I’m not confident with strangers.”
“So, don’t date strangers,” I say. Will laughs, but I’m serious. “For real. Think about it—we’ve been texting for two weeks now, so even if this was a regular date, we’d already know a little bit about each other. We’d already have stuff to talk about.”
“That’s true. But what if…I don’t know…what if I say something stupid? Or I spill my drink all over her?”
“If a spilled drink is the worst thing that happens, you’re doing ok, I promise.”
