Page 8 of The Biker Alien

“No, I don’t mean to suggest that. I don’t think I’ve had that. Is that what you’re getting?”

“Yes.”

“I will as well. Do you want anything else? Soup? Salad?”

“Just this, I think.”

“Are you sure?”

I gape at him.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I say quickly.

He quirks an eyebrow. “You can tell me. I will not judge you. Ever.”

“The last date I went on was a disaster. He ordered for me. A salad.”

“That is rude. Do you even like salads?”

“Sometimes, but the implication… And the date before that, the guy was a bit rude when I ordered a burger at a burger joint.”

“Why wouldn’t you order what a restaurant is known for?” Alec asks.

“Right?”

“Why were those men so terrible to you?”

I laugh a bit uncomfortably. “It’s, ah, because of my weight.”

“What about your weight?”

“I… could stand to lose a few pounds.”

“If you want to. If your health suggests it. Not for any man.”

I duck my head and blink a few times. “It’s nice to not feel pressured to conform to society’s view of beauty.”

Alec grunts. “If society tells you that you are anything but beautiful, than society is wrong.”

I beam at him.

The waitress returns with the bottle of white wine in an ice bucket for the table. “Are you ready to order?”

“I will have the brown butter lobster dish with the bacon and kale,” I say.

“The fontina pasta okay or something else?” she asks.

“That’s fine.”

“And for you, sir?”

“I’ll have the same.”

She nods and walks off.

The dish is absolutely amazing, and Alec and I talk and talk. Somehow, I down three glasses of wine, and when we’re asked about dessert, I hesitate.

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