don’t take it the wrong way.”
Yeah right, I
thought. “Sure, whatever,” I said, taking a step back. I was surprised when he
flinched. He seemed agitated no matter what I did. He was tough to read, and I
certainly didn’t need more turmoil. “I’ll just take a rain check–”
“No!” he said
firmly, and my eyes widened. Softening his expression, he said, “I mean, please
don’t abandon me. I’d really like to buy you lunch.”
Leery of his
Jekyll and Hyde personality but inexplicably drawn to him, I finally agreed. As
we walked along, he talked about his favorite places in Fairhaven. The guy in
front of us kept yelling into his cell phone and stopping abruptly, so we
maneuvered around him. Jason swore by the African Peanut Soup at the Colophon
Café. He teased that the next time I saved him he’d take me there for lunch.
Playing along, I vowed I’d hold him to that promise.
When we arrived
at the red, double-decker bus, which had apparently been converted into a small
kitchen with deep fryers, Jason said, “You find a spot, and I’ll go order.”
“Okay. A regular
fish and chips works for me,” I called after him.
He whipped
around. “What? Do you have something against halibut?” He looked almost hurt.
“Well, no,” I
said hesitantly, “but that’s gotta be a lot more expensive.”
He shook his
head disgustedly. “So, two halibut and chips. What to drink?”
“Water is fine.”
“What? Are you
trying to save me money again,” he accused.
“No,” I laughed.
“Really, I always drink water.”
“Okay, but you
better like ketchup and tartar. I’d hate to find out you douse your fish in
vinegar or something.”
I rolled my eyes
and shook my head. “Tons and tons of tartar and ketchup. And no vinegar. Are
you happy now?”
“Very,” he said
as he strode away. I sat down at the only empty picnic table. Enclosed behind a
wrought iron fence, the courtyard allowed unobstructed views of the sidewalks,
streets, and businesses. People window shopped at leisurely paces, while others
scurried along, seemingly intent upon a destination.
Jason returned
after a couple minutes and handed me a cup with ice water.
“Thank you.”
“You’re
welcome.”
“Hey,” I accused
with a chuckle and tapped his cup of ice water, “were you trying to save yourself some money?”
“I know I gave
you a bad time, but I’m not big on soda. Too much sugar and horrible for your
teeth.” He grinned, showing off a perfect set of straight white teeth, and I
couldn’t help but thinking how much my dad would like him. “So what’s your
vice?” he asked curiously. “Wait. Let me guess. Coffee?”
“Nope, can’t
stand the bitter taste.” I made a face and stuck out my tongue.
“No coffee and
no soda. Juice?”
I made a sour
face.
He chuckled.
“Must be tea.”
“Love the smell
but I don’t really like hot drinks.”
He squinted.
“That leaves nothing but an ice cold beer.”
“Sorry, try
again.”
“Okay, I’m
running out of ideas.” He shrugged. “Wait,” he held a finger in the air, “I’ve
got it. You’re a chocoholic and if you’re not drinking water you’re downing
chocolate milkshakes.”
“Unbelievable.”
I snorted. “For your information Mr. Nosy, I’m allergic to chocolate.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” I
tapped my fingers against the picnic table.
“Wild. Allergic
to chocolate. And is it that you don’t like beer or that you just don’t drink?”
“I don’t drink.
Period.”
“You say that
like there’s a story to tell,” he said, looking at me expectantly.
I swallowed
hard. “A long story. Maybe I’ll tell ya about it sometime.” He looked at me
funny, so I added, “No, it’s not what you’re thinking. I wasn’t in a drunk
driving accident or anything like that.”
“That’s not what
I was thinking.” He rested his arms on the table and continued with another
inquisition. “So, how old are you?”
“Why?”
“Just
Yeah right, I
thought. “Sure, whatever,” I said, taking a step back. I was surprised when he
flinched. He seemed agitated no matter what I did. He was tough to read, and I
certainly didn’t need more turmoil. “I’ll just take a rain check–”
“No!” he said
firmly, and my eyes widened. Softening his expression, he said, “I mean, please
don’t abandon me. I’d really like to buy you lunch.”
Leery of his
Jekyll and Hyde personality but inexplicably drawn to him, I finally agreed. As
we walked along, he talked about his favorite places in Fairhaven. The guy in
front of us kept yelling into his cell phone and stopping abruptly, so we
maneuvered around him. Jason swore by the African Peanut Soup at the Colophon
Café. He teased that the next time I saved him he’d take me there for lunch.
Playing along, I vowed I’d hold him to that promise.
When we arrived
at the red, double-decker bus, which had apparently been converted into a small
kitchen with deep fryers, Jason said, “You find a spot, and I’ll go order.”
“Okay. A regular
fish and chips works for me,” I called after him.
He whipped
around. “What? Do you have something against halibut?” He looked almost hurt.
“Well, no,” I
said hesitantly, “but that’s gotta be a lot more expensive.”
He shook his
head disgustedly. “So, two halibut and chips. What to drink?”
“Water is fine.”
“What? Are you
trying to save me money again,” he accused.
“No,” I laughed.
“Really, I always drink water.”
“Okay, but you
better like ketchup and tartar. I’d hate to find out you douse your fish in
vinegar or something.”
I rolled my eyes
and shook my head. “Tons and tons of tartar and ketchup. And no vinegar. Are
you happy now?”
“Very,” he said
as he strode away. I sat down at the only empty picnic table. Enclosed behind a
wrought iron fence, the courtyard allowed unobstructed views of the sidewalks,
streets, and businesses. People window shopped at leisurely paces, while others
scurried along, seemingly intent upon a destination.
Jason returned
after a couple minutes and handed me a cup with ice water.
“Thank you.”
“You’re
welcome.”
“Hey,” I accused
with a chuckle and tapped his cup of ice water, “were you trying to save yourself some money?”
“I know I gave
you a bad time, but I’m not big on soda. Too much sugar and horrible for your
teeth.” He grinned, showing off a perfect set of straight white teeth, and I
couldn’t help but thinking how much my dad would like him. “So what’s your
vice?” he asked curiously. “Wait. Let me guess. Coffee?”
“Nope, can’t
stand the bitter taste.” I made a face and stuck out my tongue.
“No coffee and
no soda. Juice?”
I made a sour
face.
He chuckled.
“Must be tea.”
“Love the smell
but I don’t really like hot drinks.”
He squinted.
“That leaves nothing but an ice cold beer.”
“Sorry, try
again.”
“Okay, I’m
running out of ideas.” He shrugged. “Wait,” he held a finger in the air, “I’ve
got it. You’re a chocoholic and if you’re not drinking water you’re downing
chocolate milkshakes.”
“Unbelievable.”
I snorted. “For your information Mr. Nosy, I’m allergic to chocolate.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” I
tapped my fingers against the picnic table.
“Wild. Allergic
to chocolate. And is it that you don’t like beer or that you just don’t drink?”
“I don’t drink.
Period.”
“You say that
like there’s a story to tell,” he said, looking at me expectantly.
I swallowed
hard. “A long story. Maybe I’ll tell ya about it sometime.” He looked at me
funny, so I added, “No, it’s not what you’re thinking. I wasn’t in a drunk
driving accident or anything like that.”
“That’s not what
I was thinking.” He rested his arms on the table and continued with another
inquisition. “So, how old are you?”
“Why?”
“Just
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