Page 10 of Doughn't Let Me Go

I don’t know why I say it. What kind of idiot admits they’re alone to a total stranger? I’m just asking to get murdered at this point.

“Mind if I sit next to you, then?”

I glance to his hand.No ring.

“No.”

Shit! I did it again.

He grabs his beer and scoots down the two stools, taking up the spot right next to me.

His thigh brushes against my leg as he gets comfortable in the seat, and I try not to slide off my own.

“I’m Porter,” he says, and I appreciate that he doesn’t try to shake my hand. I’ve never been big on touching, probably a side effect of my affectionless childhood.

“Dory.”

“Like the fish?”

“The one and only.” It’s my automatic response, because peoplealwayssay that. I was sort of hoping he might be different.

“I bet you get that a lot, huh?” he asks, as if reading my mind.

“Almost daily.”

“Did I lose points for not being original?”

I lift a shoulder. “At least two.”

“Two? Damn, that brings my average down to a B-minus at best. Let me make it up to you. Buy you a slice?”

“Hmm…” I twist my lips, pretending to think on it.

Hot dude wants to buy the poor college student dinner? Hell fucking yes.

“I’ll allow it.”

He fist-pumps the air like he’s just won a prize.

“But it’ll only earn you one point back,” I tell him, knocking his enthusiasm down a peg or two.

“I’d offer to buy you a drink to earn back the other one, but they don’t serve the good stuff here and you don’t look like a beer drinker.”

“I’m not much of a drinker at all.”

“I had a feeling. Chocolate milkshake?”

I shake my head. “Not a fan of those either.”

His shoulders deflate. “Guess I’ll just have to settle for an A-minus.”

“If you wanna share a basket of fries with me, I’ll consider awarding another point.”

“You’ve got a deal.”

He sticks his hand out to shake on it, and I stare down at his outstretched palm.

When he notices my hesitation, he grins, and it’s enough to have me considering touching hands with him.

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