“ADHD much?”
“Actually yeah. I have it. But it’s not an excuse, at least not a legitimate one. I mean, I finish things, I just like to have a lot of tabs open in my browser, you know?”
“Not really, but I’m boring. I also feel shitty for making fun of ADHD just now. I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. It’s a misconception that we can’t concentrate on anything. It’s actually more like I have hyper-focus on one thing and then shift to the next thing and then the next thing.”
“Novelty-addict?”
“Not really. I just get bored really easily, and I see something that would be so much more worthwhile or exciting or whatever,” he said.
“So, you’re my first dinner companion who talked about a diagnosis,” she said. “Anything else you’d like to share?”
“No, that should do it. We’ve covered my mental health and your love of gluten. I think we’ve bonded,” he grinned.
“Gosh, you’re cute,” she blurted out.
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Really didn’t mean to,” she groaned.
“Why? You should feel free to compliment me anytime you like.”
“I’ll try to restrain myself.”
“You’re way too restrained as it is. It’s not a bad thing to say what you’re thinking. For example, I really think your dress is supposed to be a top. As in you’re meant to wear pants or something with it. It’s too distracting. I’m surprised we haven’t been asked to leave.”
“Should I ask for an extra napkin to cover my unsightly nakedness? I have legs. Most people do. If they frighten you, don’t look.”
“They do. They scare the hell out of me, Britt. I’m afraid I’m going to reach under the table like this, that I won’t be able to help myself.”
Jack’s hand grazed her bare thigh, the silk of the tablecloth brushing her leg as he moved it aside. She bit down on her lip harder than she meant to.
“Are you slut-shaming my dress?”
“No. I don’t think your dress is necessarily asking for it. I just think it isn’t making an effort not to attract attention.”
“I could see if I can score an apron and a bonnet to satisfy your Amish sensibilities.”
“It would take more than an apron to cover everything you’ve left exposed.”
“That’s a bit puritanical coming from a man who was naked in my living room recently.”
“You say that like I asked to come in and use your phone and then dropped my pants without invitation.”
“Okay, so maybe you were invited,” she laughed.
“So it’s okay to joke about it now? When did we shift from pretending it never happened?”
“When I agreed to take my dirty little secret out for dinner. Without pants on.”
“I thought I was taking you to dinner.”
“I should buy. I think it’s only fair since I traumatized you with the sight of my bare legs.”
“I wouldn’t say traumatized so much as...”
The waitress appeared with their food and the business of serving and eating began. After a few bites of steak with a chimichurri sauce, Britt paused.