Page 22 of Come Back To Me

“Oh, shut up,” I said. “You’re ridiculous.”

But I was grinning too.

“When you play with your wineglass stem like that, Yara, it makes me kind of hard,” he said, between bites.

I blushed and pulled back my hand. My London best friend, Posey, used to say I had a habit of running my fingers along phallic looking objects. “It’s like you have a stroking obsession, Yara,”she’d say, shaking her head.

“I didn’t want you to stop,” he said. “I just felt like you should know.”

I laughed.

“Look,” he said after the server came around to fill our water glasses. “This place is boring the fuck out of me. We’re too young for this shit. Let’s eat fast and get out of here.” He leaned forward like he was going to tell me a secret. “And then, tacos later.”

“Yes,” I nodded. I pushed my halibut around on my plate, thinking about tacos.

We declined dessert and drained the last of our cocktails. When it was time to pay the bill, David was five dollars short and I loaned him the rest. He didn’t seem at all embarrassed by it, which made me like him more.

“I’ll buy you a restaurant one day to make up for this,” he said as we were leaving.

“I’d love that. I’ve always wanted to own a restaurant.”

“Oh, yeah? What kind?” He took my hand and immediately his thumb began running circles across my skin. I was silently thrilled. It felt so good to hold his hand.

“Something soft,” I told him.

He tilted his head to the side and made a face. I shrugged.

“Soft?” he repeated. “What does that even mean?”

“Soft lighting, food that melts on your tongue, brick walls, and muted colors. Some place that makes you feel good, you know?”

“Mmmm,” he said. “Sounds like you’re describing your vagina.”

I punched him in the arm and he pulled me close so that he could kiss me on the temple.

“We’ll get you that restaurant,” he said. “What will we name it?”

“IOU,” I joked.

“Oh my God, that’s perfect. What vision! What excellent marketing we can do for IOU.” He was being loud and enthusiastic, and I found myself getting caught up in it.

We launched into discussions of an ad campaign. By the time we reached my studio, David had composed a jingle for the commercial and we’d decided on some of the top menu items.

“Sing it again,” I asked him as I opened the door to my building.

He humored me, and the people lulling around the lobby of my building turned to look at us as we walked toward the elevators.

“They’re so hungry right now,” I told him. “Look at their faces.”

“They won’t be after they eat at IOU!” He said this loud enough for them to hear, and I flinched and laughed at the same time. We were good together on a few drinks, our inhibitions set aside. I was stiff the first time he spoke to me, it was a wonder he came back.

“What did you see the first time you came to the bar and saw me?”

“In you?” he asked.

“Yes, in me.”

“Well, you’re beautiful, Yara. You could be covered in shit, walking down the street mooing like a cow, and people would still think you’re beautiful.”

---