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"I'm going to get another job. I had this idea where I'm going to be a photographer."
"Oh? Of babies? Weddings?" he questions.
"No, a professional selfie taker. Argh, that’s not the right name, but?—"
"Sorry, what?" He blinks at me. "A professional selfie taker? Maybe I’m not understanding what you mean by that.”
“Let me try and explain. You know when you go out and you see people taking selfies?"
"Yeah?"
"And you know how hard it is to get the right angles and the right light?"
"Not really." He shakes his head.
"Well, trust me, it's really hard, especially for a woman. Women know you hold the camera up and you look down. That way, you look slimmer. But a lot of men, they don't get it. And even friends who are haters don't get it. But as a professional selfie taker, I know the right angles to hold the camera."
"Okay, so you're going to take selfies with people?"
"No. Basically, people who are taking selfies, I will take the photo for them instead."
He looks confused, "So then it's not a selfie."
"Well, no, it's not a selfie because I'm not going to be in it, but I'm going to replace the selfie with my photography skills."
"Okay, cool. And what sort of camera are you using?"
"I'm not going to be using any professional camera. I'll be using their phones, but maybe I'll get one of those Polaroid cameras? But then you can't really do much with them and you can't really post those images online, which is primarily what a lot of people are taking selfies for, to post and show their friends and family. Look at the life I'm living. I'm living my best life. Be jealous." I bite down into my pizza again and lick my lips. "You know what I mean?"
"Not really. I don't take many selfies and I certainly don't post them on social media to say, 'Look at me. I'm living my best life.'"
"That's because you don't want all your women knowing that you're with another woman," I say, smirking as I sip my wine again. I watch as he picks up the wine bottle and empties the last of the Pinot Noir into my glass.
"Do you want another?"
"I shouldn't," I say as I nod.
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"I shouldn't." I nod again.
"You shouldn't, but you're nodding."
"I'm saying I shouldn't, but get another bottle, Goofy," I say with a grin and he bursts out laughing.
"You're different when you're drunk."
"I'm not drunk," I counter. "I am just tipsy."
"Well, you're different when you're tipsy."
"Don't think that means you're going to have your wicked way with me."
"I think we've already decided that neither one of us is going to have our wicked way with the other."
"I could totally have my wicked way with you if I wanted to," I say, leaning forward and reaching over. I press my finger against his lips and rub my thumb against his lower lip.
He stares at me, his blue eyes hardening. "What are you doing?"
