Page 9 of Changed Plan

“I can solve one of those problems.”

“Oh, yeah? You’ve got a sleep pod connection?”

“Better. I have a hotel room. You’re welcome to share it.”

Our bottle of wine arrives, and as soon as the server pours mine, I take a healthy sip. Once he’s gone again, I politely turn down Zane’s incredibly inappropriate offer.

“We cannot share a hotel room. We are complete strangers.”

“That’s not true. I know you went to public school. You got fired this morning. The beach is your happy place. You like Italian wine. And calamari. See, I know all sorts of things about you. And I didn’t have to stalk you to learn them. You told me. Or showed me.” He lifts his glass and swirls the wine, never taking his eyes off me as he does it. “Would you have done that with a complete stranger?”

“On a normal day? No.” I take a healthier sip of my wine. “Wait. How do you know the beach is my happy place?”

“It’s where you’re headed for vacation. People don’t usually book vacations in places they don’t enjoy.”

“Right. Well, I still think we’re strangers.”

“Maybe after a second glass of wine, we won’t be.”

“I’m not having a second glass of wine with you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I’m just not.”

Maybe because I don’t trust you. Or myself. I’m vulnerable. I just got fired. And you have those hazel eyes and that dimple in your right cheek and your stupid musician hair.

“Are you a musician?”

“Would you dislike me less if I were?”

“I never said I didn’t like you. I said I didn’t know you.”

“Let’s get to know each other.”

“Why?”

“I’m not asking you to tell me your deepest secrets. But let’s talk over dinner, share some things, see what we have in common. It’s what people do. Part of the human condition, right?”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never been big on being conditioned.”

He laughs like I said something funny.

“That wasn’t a joke.”

“I know.”

The server brings out the calamari. Good timing, too, because I need something to do with my hand other than lift a wine glass. My stomach is empty, and I don’t want to wake up next to this guy with only a fuzzy memory of how I got there.

“I know what the human condition means, by the way. If you were laughing because you thought I didn’t understand what—”

“You’re obviously intelligent, Darby. Your wit alone proves that. It’s not why I laughed.”

“Then what was funny about it?” I dig into the calamari like I’m starving, eating three pieces before he can answer. It’s good, perfectly crispy, not at all greasy, and the sauce is delicious.

“Your quick sarcasm is funny. You’d be great at improv.”

“I would be terrible at improv. You have to say yes to everything, and that’s not exactly in my nature. I’d ruin the whole show.”

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