Page 61 of Fun Together
The man unclips a ring of keys from his belt and flips to the key that unlocks the door. I hear chattering coming from inside and I feel relief that more people are on the other side.
“Right this way, Mr. Brooks.”
Cameron places a hand against the small of my back as we follow him into a low-lit room with small tables scattered around, where other couples are eating dinner. He stops by a table and Cameron and I take our seats.
“Someone will be right with you,” he says before disappearing through the door we entered through.
From what I can see of the space, it sort of looks like if you placed some tables inside an empty hardware store and shut off all the lights.
Cameron smiles at me from across the table, his perfect set of white teeth glowing in the dimness. He’s good-looking in a very on-purpose kind of way. He’s dressed in all black tonight. Black slacks, black button-down open halfway down his chest. He’s wearing a necklace that has a delicate gold chain with a small pendant resting just between his pecs.
He must catch me looking because he holds the pendant up for me to view. “My family’s crest,” he says. “From our hometown in Ireland.”
“Oh, are you Irish?” I’ve never caught the hint of an accent, but maybe he’s been in the United States for a while.
“Two percent,” he says proudly.
“Wow,” I say, taking a sip of water. “That’s cool.”
“I’m glad I was able to snag us a spot here. Very hard to get in, but they had a cancellation.”
“Luck of the Irish, I guess.”
He leans forward. “What was that?”
“Luck of the Irish? Because you’re . . . Irish?”
“Oh,” he pauses for a second before smiling. “Good one.”
How am I going to make it through this date if I have to explain every—admittedly stupid—joke all night?
A waiter saves us from the awkward silence when she approaches to tell us the menu this evening and moves to set a wine list down on the table for us to review. Cameron halts her before she can set the list down. “We’ll just have whatever the chef recommends tonight.”
“Absolutely, Mr. Brooks.”
I get the sense that he’s trying to show off for me and I wonder if this is his go-to first date spot. Everyone here seems to know him. Or maybe I’m just not used to eating at places where you’re referred to by your surname.
Turns out, I don’t really have anything to worry about on the awkward silence front because Cameron ends up talking enough for the both of us. I’m not a chatty person by any means, but I have said maybe ten words in the hour we’ve been here, and most of them were just “thank you” to the server.
I know all about Cameron, though. He’s originally from just outside of Boston but moved to Raleigh for school, and decided to stay because he liked the “North Carolina vibes.” I don’t ask for details on that because I’m not sure I want to know what that might mean.
He loves working in the coffee shop but hopes he can get some brand deals from his latte art videos so he can be a full-time content creator. He has a “sick” vinyl collection that he’s sure I’d love. How he’d know this, I have no clue since he hasn’t asked me anything about myself.
This could be an ideal scenario, though. Maybe Rett is right, and I should lean into being mysterious. If I’m just looking for something casual, why would I want him to know anything personal about me? He doesn’t need to know that I grew up about thirty minutes away in a town with no grocery stores, but three Dollar Generals. Or that I’m allergic to penicillin. I’ll keep the focus on him.
“What’s your favorite album you own on vinyl?”
He takes a thoughtful sip of his red wine. “They’re kind of out there and little experimental, but they’re really fun live. You’ve probably never heard of them.”
“Try me.”
“Red Hot Chili Peppers?”
I think he’s joking so I laugh, wondering if maybe I’ve just been misreading his personality and he’s been doing some kind of bit this whole time. But then he looks at me expectantly and I see that he legitimately thinks I may not have heard of one of the most popular bands of the last forty years.
I decide to do a bit of my own. “No, never heard of them,” I say, feigning ignorance.
“They’re awesome. Super retro but not in a lame way, you know?”
