Page 187 of The Problem With Pretending

WILLIAM: Why don’t we go somewhere nice?

ME: Lord Kinkirk, are you asking me out on a date?

WILLIAM: That depends if you’re going to say no.

ME: My answer depends on if you’re asking me out or not.

WILLIAM: Fuck.

ME: Ha.

WILLIAM: Yes, I’m asking you out on a date. Lunch or dinner, your choice.

ME: Can I be awkward and say neither, but food in the afternoon?

WILLIAM: Like a late lunch?

ME: I guess so. I’m studying until three.

WILLIAM: So an early dinner.

ME: I don’t know. Don’t confuse me. I feel like I need to work extra hard to send your grandpa a copy of my thesis since he insisted on giving me these books.

WILLIAM: Believe me, it was his pleasure. He spent all of Sunday evening waxing lyrical about you to your gran.

ME: I’m sure she took the credit for it all.

WILLIAM: Every bit, yes.

ME: That sounds like her.

WILLIAM: What about three-thirty at Oscar’s?

ME: The burger bar on Raymond Street?

WILLIAM: Yes. Or do you want somewhere closer?

ME: Make it four and you’ve got a deal.

WILLIAM: I think I can squeeze you in.

ME: Squeeze me in? What? Do you have a long line of dinner dates I’m disrupting?

WILLIAM: In your dreams, Cinderella. You’re the only one I’m wining and dining.

ME: I hope you’re not planning to get me drunk at four in the afternoon.

WILLIAM: Only if you ask nicely.

ME: Well, since I know you’re paying because you have a complex about that…

WILLIAM: Hey, I wouldn’t turn down a free burger.

ME: Fine, then I’ll pay.

WILLIAM: Absolutely not. You’re not paying for our first date.

ME: See? I’m never going to pay for food again, am I?

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