Page 3 of The Photograph

Des. Patience.You have all night, and the banter will be fun.

Alex sinks back in his seat and takes a sip of his cocktail, and I like that, too. He went ahead and chose what he wanted and didn’t wait for me to be fashionably late: a trick I learned from my ex-boyfriend George. I hope he wants me, too.

“What do you do?” he asks.

“I work for a tech startup. Software. Operations. You?”

“Finance.”

“Trading?”

I’ve met a few traders before: They’re often hyped up on coke. One memorable time a guy passed out on my bathroom floor with the stuff still up his nose, and I had to sort him out. He begged me not to take him to the ER. That’s not the kind of night I want to repeat in a hurry.

When he shakes his head, I breathe a sigh of relief. “Research,” he says.

“A data guy!”

As he twirls his stirrer in his glass, the server appears.

“I’ll have an espresso martini,” I say, gesturing at Alex’s drink. “Do you want another one?”

He blinks at me and then at the menu. “I’ll have the same as you.”

“Two martinis coming right up,” the server says, whisking the menus away.

“So … statistics?”

“Yeah, I guess. Algorithms, writing reports, finance, accountancy.” Making a face, he pushes his glasses up his nose. “Desperately dull, if I’m being honest.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t believe that for a minute.”

“You did read the description of my Sunday morning, didn’t you?”

I wink at him. “Sure did, but I’m hoping that something even duller, like staying in bed all day, might be more your speed.”

He purses his lips, then gives me a wolfish grin, and I think my heart is going to beat right out of my chest. Ilikethis guy.

“I’m a nice Jewish boy. Lazing around in bed is frowned upon.”

“And being gay isn’t?” I deadpan.

He taps a long finger against his lips. “They don’t know.”

And ohhhhh, Iampicking up slightly straitlaced vibes from him. Is that where this is coming from?

“Are you out—I mean to people other than your family?”

Soft curls tumble over his ear and he inclines his head as if he’s thinking.

“Selectively,” he says.

I wave my hand at him. “Define ‘selectively.’”

“Trusted friends.”

I grin at him. “And I so wanted to meet your family.”

This gets me a frown, and my stomach sinks. He’s a bit reticent, and I get the uncomfortable vibe that he feels like I’m pushing him. But maybe I started that with the response I gave on Grindr? Am I playing this right?Relax, Des.

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