Page 14 of For the Record

You know I’m in the Air Force, right? I’m not a sailor of any kind.

Rachel: Potato, potahto. Pot, kettle.

No. Not at all.

Rachel: You’re still a sailor in my mind when I picture you steering ships and jumping out of them to save drowning people from sharks.

That is not even close to what I do. At all, actually. It’s kind of concerning you would think that.

Rachel: So, what’s your night like tonight?

Thrilling. Lying in bed since all the guys wanted to go out.

Rachel: And you didn’t?

I don’t really like going out.

Rachel: But you were out the other night with me.

Coincidence.

Rachel: Ooh, so I am special, then?

Lucky you.

Rachel: Careful now, grandpa. One might think you were flirting.

I’m not.

Rachel: Mmm, we’ll see.

What are you doing tonight?

Rachel: Currently working on a sourdough starter with George Michael.

Boyfriend?

Rachel: I wish you could hear the laugh I just let out.

Rachel: No, George Michael is not my boyfriend, sadly.

So why is he making bread with you at ten at night?

Rachel: Oh, this is so sad. You’re old enough to know better by now, Adam.

I looked him up. I get it now. You didn’t have to say it like that.

Rachel: And miss this whole conversation? No, that was beautiful.

No.

Rachel: So now that you have my number, we can be friends, right?

No.

Rachel: You have a terribly wicked sense of humor. So you can give me your elderly advice now, right?

That’s about all I can give you.

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