“You do remember what happened last night,” he says.
Maybe not.
“Bits and pieces,” I cover.
For a while, nothing else happens.
He doesn’t know what to say, but then again, neither do I.
“So,” he says, flicking his cigarette into the back alley, “I should probably get back in there.”
“Yeah,” I respond, “I should probably make sure Mike and the waiter haven’t gone to blows.”
“Mike?” he asks.
“He’s a friend,” I tell him. “I never mentioned him?”
“No,” he says distantly.
There’s some more awkward silence; as if we didn’t have enough of that in our recent relationship.
“Well, I should—”
“Yeah, me too.”
He opens the door and holds it for me.
“Thanks,” I say. “By the way…”
“Yeah?”
“Seriously, the food tonight was excellent.”
“Thanks,” he says. “I do my best.”
“Yeah, well…”
I don’t finish the sentence. I just walk away.
When I find Mike, he’s standing at the door, making faces every time our waiter turns his direction. For such a good friend and genuine guy, Mike is kind of an idiot sometimes.
“Ready to go?” he asks as I approach.
“Yep,” I answer.
I debate whether to tell him about Dane, but decide against it. That sick, tingling sensation I had permeating my body last night is back, and this time, I can’t just blame it on the alcohol.
Chapter Ten
That Sinking Feeling
Dane
So, it’s been a couple of weeks since Leila found out what I really do. Our conversation behind the restaurant was innocuous enough, but it was the last real conversation that we’ve had.
Now, I’ll come into the room, we’ll say “Hey,” to each other, and that’s about it.
She’s avoiding me, although I can’t imagine why.