Page 9 of The Disasters of Dating
He nods and smiles. “Oh, good. I wasn’t sure if you were a vegan or something.”
I pinch my lips tightly. Why does everyone think that if you dress like this, wear crystals, and follow horoscopes then you must be a vegan? I don’t have a problem with vegans. I’m just not one of them. I look down and wiggle my toes in my leather Birkenstocks. “Nope. Not a vegan. I eat meats of all kinds. Preferably smothered in sauces and with good bread.”
He laughs. “Point taken. I should not have assumed things.” He motions over his shoulder. “What is your stance on seafood? I saw a place down there that looked pretty good.”
I knew the restaurant he was thinking about immediately. “The Crab Market? It’s a good restaurant.”And expensive. “We can go there, if you want.” Did I sound too enthusiastic? I hadn’t planned on buying him Crab Market priced food when I invited him as an apology. I’d been thinking more along the lines of a burger. Granted, it would be an expensive burger. After all, we are at the airport. But Crab Market?
He glances into the shop. “I should probably grab my stuff.”
I nod. “Oh, yeah, you may want to grab them. The restaurant is closer to the exit. So if you don’t want to walk all the way back here after dinner, now might be the time to get them.”
He looks at me, and I can see he is weighing his options. “Will that lady mind if I leave them?”
I shake my head. “No, she’s fine with it. They aren’t in the way or anything.” He is rather trusting. I’m not sure if I would leave my stuff with me. Let alone Kendra, who is a complete stranger. I let out a quiet snort. I act as if I’m not a stranger, too.
He nods. “Okay. Then I’ll grab them after dinner.”
We walk toward the restaurant in silence. Finally, I glance over at him. “What did you do while you were waiting?”
His hands are still in his pockets. “I walked around. The airport is a great place to people watch.”
I grin, feeling more at ease. “Right? It’s one of the things I love about working here. I try to imagine all the places people are flying to and what they will do when they get there.” I can hear the wistfulness in my voice. I work at the airport, but that doesn’t mean I ever go anywhere. People look at me differently when they find out I’ve never even been on a plane—or at least not that I remember. We went to Alaska a couple of times to visit my dad’s family when I was young, but I have no recollection of the flights.
He glances over at me. “Do you travel a lot?”
I lift my hand to my amethyst necklace. “No. I don’t have much time to travel right now. Between work and school, I’m pretty booked up.”
“You’re in school? What’s your major?” Why does he sound so surprised? Was he expecting a barely educated vegan?
I brace myself for his response. I’ve had more than a few people laugh outright when I tell them. “Business.”
He looks at meand smiles.
I wait for the comment about me not being smart enough for that kind of degree. Because apparently, if you choose to wear flowy skirts—they are very comfortable—and make your own blends of essential oils, people think I must be majoring in basket weaving or Tarot card reading or something.
“Yeah? That’s great.” He looks straight ahead. “I just graduated with an MBA last semester.”
I pause. There has to be a but in there somewhere, right? But you’re only getting a bachelor’s degree. But his grades were surely better. But it was from a better school.
However, it doesn’t come. Instead, he asks a question. “What are you hoping to do with your degree?”
I can’t answer immediately. I’m still trying to process that he hasn’t completely dismissed me. Sometimes I feel like even some of my family members don’t take me seriously. But I won’t mention any names... “I want to own a chain of airport newsstands.”
He turns, and his lips quirk up. “Really? I’ve never thought about that being a thing. But I guess it is.” He looks pensive for a moment. “So they would have to be located in different states, right?”
I nod. “Ultimately, yes. I mean, there is the possibility of having two or more in bigger airports. You know, in different terminals.”
He nods. “Oh yeah. I guess that’s possible.”
I nod, too. We probably look like a couple of bobble heads walking through the airport.
“What made you focus on airport shops?” He asks.
I look around and lean toward him, lowering my voice. “There’s a higher than normal markup on the goods.”
He gives me a deadpan look. “No. You don’t say.”
I tip my head to the side. “Yes, I do say. You make more money for the items than you would in a store outside of the airport. The storefront rental is higher, but even with that, you still make more in a shop here.”
