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“I drive. You navigate.”
“Lead the way, Tarzan.”
He gives me a wry smile as he leads the way out of the office. As we pass Nancy’s desk, there is a twinkle in her eye.
“You two kids have fun!” she calls out after us, and I wonder how much of that conversation she overheard.
We make our way to the parking garage, and as we approach Mark’s car, he finally breaks the awkward silence, “Where are we going?”
Is he really refusing to decide?
“I told you. You choose.” I’m getting the feeling he enjoys annoying me.
“Just make a decision, Millie.” He’s getting annoyed. “At least pick a type of food!”
I like this feeling of power.
“Hmm. I don’t know… give me some options.” His nostrils flair. I’m enjoying this way too much.
“Sandwiches?” I shake my head.
“Do you like pho?”
“Yes, but not today.” I can’t help myself. His face reddens with irritation. I’m done. For now.
With the most innocent, doe-eyed look I can muster, I say, “I’m sorry. I said I wouldn’t be difficult and here I am.” Did that just come out breathy? Too much, Millie, pull it back a notch or twelve. I clear my throat. “Have you been to McGills Bar and Grill? They have lots of really great menu options. Which is surprising.”
“Lead the way.”
Our waiter seats us in a booth and hands us the menus. This suddenly feels a lot more like a date than tacos ever did. We drove here. To a restaurant. There is a booth involved. Mark is sitting across from me, and our knees keep brushing. I’m vividly aware of every movement as his pant leg rubs against my bare legs. Why did I choose to wear this outfit again?
I pretend to look over the menu as Mark watches me. I blush under his gaze.
“In case I didn’t say it earlier, you look incredible today.”
My blush deepens, and I nervously brush a loose curl behind my ear.
“Thanks.”
“What’s good here?” he asks, finally picking up his menu.
“I’ve never had anything bad here.”
He looks up at me surprised. “I wouldn’t have taken you as a sports bar girl.”
“Why, because I’m a woman?”
“No. You know more about sports than pretty much any woman I know.” Mark clears his throat. “I mean, you got dragged to enough games.”
I shrug. “I didn’t mind.” I catch a glint in his eye telling me he’s about to call me out, so I add, “Much.”
Mark grins. “Well, you endured it much better than a lot of other women I know.”
“You can’t judge all of us by, what was her name? Nastia?”
“I would never compare you to Natasha. It wouldn’t even be a fair fight.”
The blazing look in his eyes tells me more than his words ever could. I would win. In a comparison between me and Icelandic Barbie, Mark Winters would pick me to win. The thought makes the butterflies in my stomach do all sorts of flips. Our eyes are locked as we sit in this electric-charged staring contest. Mark is the one to finally break the silence. “What do you recommend?”
