The Matchmaker's Choice: A Lesbian Romance

sports-ish kind of bar with a few big screen TV’s, booths along

the walls, tables in the middle, stained glass windows, dark

hardwood, a huge bar, and pool tables on the far end. There

aren’t any darts, but that’s okay.

We pick a booth along the edge with a good view of

the pool tables. It’s not bustling in here because it’s a Tuesday

night and it’s also only nine, not really late enough to be busy

after the supper rush, but it’s busy enough. There are a few

people playing pool at four of the six tables, and a few others

scattered at booths and tables throughout. Thankfully, there is

no one cheering or yelling at the baseball games on the TV’s.

After our waitress takes our order for a beer for me and

a soda for Steph, and two orders of lemon pepper wings,

because why not try and see if they’re as good as home, Steph

said, we’re suddenly left sitting there, each waiting for the

other person to say something.

Suddenly this feels very first date-ish. Where you get

those awkward pauses because you’re worried about saying

something stupid and you’re thinking too hard and you get

totally flustered.

“What’s your favorite book?” Steph asks out of

nowhere.

“Oh, I, uh…”

“I imagine you like to read. You’re an English major.”

“You remembered that?”

“Of course!” She looks mildly offended.

“Sorry. I just didn’t know you were really listening that

hard. That’s very flattering. That you’d remember.”

“Yes. I remember.”

She smiles at me in that wonderful way she has where