Our Way

“Make that two,” Nathan agrees.

“We serve it in a jug.”

“Sure, sounds great.” Nathan hands her his drinks menu, and I do the same.

“I’ll be back to take your orders soon.” She leaves us alone.

I look around in awe. “Look at this place, Nathe.” It’s alive with chatter and the guitar music creates a wonderful atmosphere. The waitress arrives back at the table with a huge jug of sangria and two glasses not long after.

Wow, that was quick. They must have this stuff on speed dial.

“Here you are.” She places them on the table, and I giggle at the size of the glasses. They look like jugs, too. She pours us two, and with another smile, she leaves us alone.

Nathan takes a sip of his drink and raises his eyebrows at the red drink in his glass. “Hmm, not bad.”

I take a tentative sip. I hope I like it. There must be ten liters here. I’m happily surprised. It’s fruity and delicious. Ten liters may not be enough.

Nathan chuckles and we clink glasses.

“I love this place,” I whisper as I look around.

“Nice, huh?” Nathan opens his menu and looks through the choices. “What are you having?”

“Hmm.” I go through the choices, too. “I think for entrée, I’m going with the pasteles de cangrejo.”

“What’s that?”

“Grilled crab cakes with mustard sauce.”

“Hmm, sounds good.” He twists his lips as he looks through the choices. “For the main, I’m going to have the Arrachera steak.”

“Hmm, yum.” I smile goofily. “I’m having so much fun in Majorca already and all I’ve done is sleep and order dinner.”

He chuckles. “Good news.”

I take a drink of my sangria. “This is so good—too good, probably, although most definitely adding to my fun. For a main course, I’m going to have the pollo al ajillo chicken.”

The waitress comes back over and we order our meals. She leaves us alone again.

Nathan refills our glasses.

“Not too many,” I say. I can feel my head getting woozy already. “This is potent.”

We fall silent and stare at each other across the table. I don’t know what he’s feeling, but I’m feeling a little starstruck.

“So…” He smiles as he takes a sip of his drink.

There’s an undercurrent of excitement buzzing in the air between us.

“So?” I beam.

“What do you normally talk about on your dates?”

I shrug. “I usually ask about forty questions so I can do an internal risk assessment.”

“Ah, the dreaded forty questions.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Why, what do you talk about on your first dates?”