Page 29 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
Cam is no longer wearing a Leaside Brewing shirt: he’s put on a plain navy T-shirt instead. Nothing fancy, but this is just a casual date, even if I am an heiress.
He comes to a stop. “How do you feel about bulgogi poutine?”
“Could be weird, but I’d definitely try it.”
“Okay. I’ll get it and you can taste some of mine.”
He smiles. Even though he smiles a lot, that doesn’t dim the impact. I feel like he’s just glad to be here with me.
“Sounds like a plan,” I say.
“What are you thinking?”
I look around, and my gaze lands on a place selling samosa chaat. I gesture to the picture.
“How about we get our food, and I meet you over there”—he points to the benches—“when we’re done?”
I nod my assent and give his arm a squeeze before standing in line. I watch the young woman deftly assemble my dish with chickpeas, samosa pieces, yogurt, two different chutneys, and small pieces of crispy noodle. Then I grab a napkin and head to the benches. Cam isn’t here yet, and since I’m at the market at a different time from usual, there’s seating available. I sit down and wait for him.
A few minutes later, he still hasn’t arrived, and I start to worry. What if he’s abandoned me? What if there was a beautiful woman next to him in line, one who actually knows something about beer, and—
“Hey.” He’s suddenly standing in front of me. “Something wrong?”
“Nope! All good.” I don’t want to admit that my brain had started spiraling. “Your poutine has cheese curds.”
“Of course. It wouldn’t be poutine without them.”
“I’m not sure it goes with bulgogi and everything else there.”
He shrugs. “We’ll find out.”
I recall the first time I met him at the market. He was carrying a tray of food then—was it also the poutine? Or does he eat something else on June 20 if he’s not on a date with me?
Cam sits beside me, his leg brushing mine, as though we’vetacitly agreed to conserve space so that someone else can use the other end of the bench.
Or, you know, we just want to touch each other.
I release an undignified giggle.
“What’s up?” Cam asks.
“I’m just, uh…” I decide to be honest. “I’m happy to be here. So much good food—though I still have reservations about yours—and good weather.”
“And good company, I hope.” He winks at me.
“Yeah. It’s not often that I get to socialize with regular, down-to-earth people who…” I don’t know much about being rich, to be honest. “Don’t own multiple vacation homes.”
I’m running this joke into the ground, but he doesn’t seem to mind, and he’ll forget this tomorrow anyway.
Actually, I prefer not to think about that. Even if I’m acting this way because there are no consequences, a part of me still hates the idea of him forgetting it.
I use some hand sanitizer, then dive into my food. I start with a little piece of samosa and chutney, which is deliciously tangy.
“Good?” Cam asks.
I’m still chewing, so I merely nod.
The smile slides off his face, and he pauses with a fry halfway to his mouth. “I just had the strangest sense of déjà vu. Like, I’ve been here before, at this market with you.”
