“I should give you my card,” he said, pulling a business card from his inside breast pocket.
“Your card?”she asked, staring down at the small rectangle in his hand.
“It has my contact info,” he said offhandedly.
“Ah, okay.I don’t exactly have a business card…”
Aurelia fumbled in her bag and found a bookmark from the shop, then handed it to him.
Oliver looked as confused by her bookmark as she’d been by his business card, but he eventually took it and tucked it into his pocket.He looked away from her and into the bar, saying “Shall we go in?”
She followed him and inwardly groaned when he chose a high-top table with tall barstools.She hated those types of tables as she always felt awkward sitting with her feet dangling.
As soon as they were seated, Oliver took hold of the cocktail menu and stared down at it.Watching him, Aurelia wondered whether he was just nervous or entirely disinterested.She looked around the bar, which was sparsely populated, probably because it was a Monday night and most people—lucky people—were tucked up at home.
“I’m not sure why David picked this spot,” she observed, feeling like she ought to make an effort at conversation.
Oliver looked up as she wrinkled her nose.
“It’s not really my kind of place.Too sterile,” she added conspiratorially.
“David didn’t pick it.I did,” Oliver said, returning his attention to the cocktail menu.
Crap.
“Ah!Put my foot right in it, didn’t I?”she acknowledged with a laugh.
“That you did,” Oliver said, sliding the menu across to her.
His lip had quirked and Aurelia thought she caught a momentary sparkle in his eye.He had a sense of humor buried in there somewhere.
“What’s your kind of place, then?”he asked.
“I like a bar that’s a little more lived-in.Somewhere that has furniture that’s been knocked about a bit, maybe a fireplace.”
“More like a pub, then?”
“Sure, beer-stained tables and all,” she said with a warm smile.
“Mmm,” Oliver intoned, still not giving a smile of his own.He seemed to hold himself back with a reserve that gave Aurelia a quick shiver.
A server came to the table and asked for their drinks order.
“She hasn’t had a chance to look at the menu,” Oliver said, preparing to dismiss him.
“She doesn’t need to,” Aurelia cut in, sitting up taller to remind them that she was sitting right there.The server gave a chuckle, but Oliver still wouldn’t crack.“I’ll have a glass of cabernet.”
“They do a good cocktail here,” Oliver said, frowning.
“That’s alright—I’m happy with a glass of wine,” she said, smiling first at him, then at the server.
Once they’d ordered, it felt like an eternity until the drinks finally arrived.Aurelia tried not to take an obvious gulp when their server set her glass down on the table.
They talked about Oliver’s work, which led to a discussion of how she knew James, which led to a discussion about where they’d gone to university.It was all very polite and surface-level, like they were guests at a party where they only knew the host.
During the first awkward pause, Aurelia tried and failed to hide a yawn.
“What do you do for work?James didn’t say.”
