Page 40 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
“Don’t worry, I’m not doing that,” Avery says.
He pulls her pint, then says to me, “I’m going to get your pie. Can’t have you turning into a bear.”
When he leaves, Avery turns to me. “What was that about?”
“An inside joke.”
“An inside joke? You only—well,heonly just met you.”
“What do you think of him?” I ask.
“After what happened with Joe, you should know I’m a terrible judge of men’s characters, but he seems nice. Fun.”
“And cute,” I say.
“And cute.”
But hearing her repeat those words makes me bristle.
“Don’t worry,” she says with a laugh, “he’s all yours. He’s not my type, but I understand what you see in him.” She tastes the Corktown and makes a face. “Really? You like that?”
“Try the Annex next time,” I suggest.
Cam returns with my meat pie, and I eagerly dig in. I’m not quite as ravenous after finishing the chips, but I’m still hungry, and the pie is full of rich braised beef and veggies.
As he serves other customers, I watch him out of the corner of my eye. His fingers curled around a glass. His easy laugh. The dimple that occasionally makes an appearance.
At one point, he catches me looking and shoots me a smile that would make my knees weak if I were standing.
“What do you want to do now?” I ask Avery.
“Well, you’re going to get his number and meet him tonight—”
“I don’t have to do that. I can spend today with you instead.”
“Nah.” She shakes her head. “Have fun. I’ll be fine.”
This time, I slip Cam my number rather than waiting for him to provide his.
Once again, we meet at the market, but as I look around at the crowds and the familiar booths, I can’t find any enthusiasm for it. I’ve been here so many times before. Yes, there’s lots of good food, but I’ve tried much of it, and the benches aren’t the most comfortable places to sit.
“How about we grab something small here?” I suggest. “Maybe taiyaki? Then we can wander up Yonge and find somewhere else for dinner—a place where we can sit at a table. Heiresses are too refined for crowded markets.” I attempt to toss my hair over my shoulder, then remember my hair is too short for that.
He furrows his brow. “What?”
Right. There were no heiress jokes today. He has no idea what I’m talking about.
“Ignore me. But what do you think of finding a restaurant?”
We buy some taiyaki and walk up Yonge. The first restaurant we enter is small and has nothing available, but a bustling izakaya miraculously has a table on the patio. I select a cocktail with plum wine, and Cam goes for one with yuzu and sake. We order a bunch of food.
“So, what do you do, Noelle?” he asks.
“I’m a mechanical engineer.”
“An engineer who doesn’t work on Fridays?”
“I banked a lot of vacation days, so I’m working four-day weeks this summer.”
