“It sounds very cool,” I assure her, and she gives me a grateful smile. “Do you study film?”
She shakes her head. “I thought about it, but I’m in anthropology at McGill.”
The two of us get into a conversation about movies while Renee and Dylan have a passionate debate about the appropriate seasons in which to drink sangria.
“That reminds me of this one meme,” Salma says after I bring up something that happened at the Oscars last year.
“Oh, no way.” I set my drink down on the table. “Tell me you’re thinking of this one.”
It’s only after I’ve pulled my phone out and we’re both laughing at the screen that Dylan and Renee call it quits on their argument.
“Zach, are you showing her a meme?” Dylan asks. “You’ve only known the poor girl for five minutes.”
“She brought it up!” I accuse.
Salma raises her hand. “Guilty.”
“Let’s see it then,” Renee orders.
She and Dylan peer at the image and then at each other.
“Do you get it?” he asks her. Renee shakes her head. “Me neither. You two are weirdos.”
Salma nudges me with her elbow. “Looks like we’re freaks.”
I laugh along with her, but this time it’s forced.
Here I am, a single twenty-two year-old guy having drinks with a beautiful, smart, and funny girl on what is, for all intents and purposes, a double date. I should be thrilled to have her flirtily bumping me with her elbow. I should be nudging her back, showing her I’m as interested as she is—but I’m not.
I don’t wantagirlfriend. I don’t wantsomeoneto lay on the couch and watch movies with. I don’t want to share lazy Sundays and busy weekdays and all the joy and stress and laughs and sobs and the millions of moments that make up what it is to have a life together with justanyone.
I want it with DeeDee, and I don’t know how to stop wanting it with her.
I excuse myself to the washroom, and on the way back to the table, I get a text from Hope, confirming the time we’re calling tonight.
“Shit,” I mutter.
I forgot about that. She’d understand if I moved the call to another night—she’s already cancelled once this week herself—but neither the prospect of courteously flirting with Salma or somehow turning her down in a way that won’t be awkward for everyone sounds appealing enough to keep me here.
“Guys, I’m really sorry,” I announce after taking my seat again, “I’m going to have to leave in about twenty minutes. I have a video call with my sister scheduled that I forgot about, and I really can’t miss it.”
Renee and Salma both sigh.
“That is so sweet,” Renee declares, and Salma agrees.
“Here.” She digs out some kind of pamphlet from her purse. “We do regular screenings all through the summer. That’s the schedule for the next few months.”
“Thanks.”
I fold it up and tuck it into my pocket. I don’t know if this is the part where I’m supposed to ask for her number or something, but I let the three of them carry the conversation for the next few minutes. It’s only when I’m getting up to leave that Dylan remembers why I asked to meet for drinks in the first place.
“I forgot to tell you all Zach is a rich bitch! He made six grand this month!”
I accept everyone’s congratulations and settle back into my chair as they insist on getting the whole story. I explain the basics of ecommerce before leaving enough cash on the table to cover the pitcher, but I don’t stay for another round, no matter how much they beg and tell me it will be a quick one.
“Not even one for the road?” Salma prods.
I fight to keep my face under control, even as the words hit me like a punch to the gut.
