Page 53 of Anatomy of a Meet Cute
“I’m back!”
Duke’s voice ricocheted around the room and blew a roughly two-foot wedge between her and Grant so fast that Sam was dizzy from the motion. Or maybe that was just the change in her blood pressure as she worked not to murder Duke with a piece of particleboard shelving. For his part, Grant looked like he had experienced a close brush with an out-of-control car.
“Oh ...” Duke stopped in the doorway, holding some folded-up surgical cloths. Everyone was silent just long enough for Sam’s breathing to return to normal and, with it, the flow of oxygen to her brain.
“Hey, Duke,” Sam said, trying to force some nothing-to-see-here cheer into her voice. With the return of her reasonable cognitive capacity, Sam experienced several colliding thoughts, the most prevalent of which was,What kind of blockhead tries to kiss her coworker?
While Grant blinked from Sam to Duke and back, her brain started to whir. What had she been thinking? Or better yet, not thinking? She was plenty busy trying to get her life together without the added pressure of even the most casual relationship. And Grant didn’t strike heras casual. Perfect people weren’t casual people. If anything, that man would be overly complicated. And she absolutely didn’t need any more complicated relationships.
If she was looking for a sign about Grant from the universe, Duke interrupting them was a giant, flashing neon one. No matter what tension she felt, she and Grant were, at their core, not compatible. This was a bad idea, a crisis even, that Duke had unintentionally averted for her. She should send him a gift basket. She would shove this moment into the file in her brain labeledinappropriate relationshipsand forget about it in a dusty corner.
Taking a page out of Grant’s book, she changed the subject. “Glad you came back, Duke. You want some help with those dustrags?”
Brushing her hands off, she jumped up and smiled apologetically at a still-surprised Grant, careful not to make eye contact with either man. She thanked whatever deity was currently occupying the chaplains’ old office for the intervention. At least this was one debacle she wouldn’t have to pray about later.
Chapter Fifteen
“See, I choose to engage in capitalism as a mechanism for improving the world,” Travis said from the front seat as their rideshare crept along Geary toward Dorothy’s. “Jehan, on the other hand, insists that there is no ethical consumption under capitalism. So she keeps working at these little hospitals and NGOs, even though she could make so much more money as a medical concierge. So we’ll be stuck paying off her school loans for decades.”
It took herculean effort for Sam not to slam her head into the car door as Travis spoke. He smiled over his shoulder at Jehan as if her adherence to public service were the most adorable thing he’d ever condescended to care about.
“What a unique perspective,” Duke said, laying on exactly none of his charm. For whatever reason, it hadn’t occurred to Travis that the six-foot-four dude might need extra legroom, so her usually easygoing roommate was folded up like a pretzel in the back seat, making him extra cranky.
Jehan wrinkled her nose for a split second, as if deciding whether or not to mention a foul smell, then shrugged at Sam with a nonverbal, he’s-so-silly smile fixed to her face. If Sam had to guess, Jehan didn’t think he was being silly at all. But then again, her friend wasn’t one to make a scene, especially when they were on their way to have a goodtime. Giving her head a shake, she said, “I think it’s the dark-blue building on the right.”
“Praise God,” Duke whispered as the car stopped. As Travis and Jehan linked hands and walked through the front door, he hung back to throw Sam a warning look.
“What?” Sam whispered under her breath. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“I can already see your little brain working. Play nice.”
“You’re one to talk, Mr.Unique Perspective.” Sam rolled her eyes.
Duke snorted. “That guy isn’t paying close enough attention to catch a southern insult.”
“DC is in the south. And even if he isn’t, Jehan is,” Sam said, half scolding.
“Fine. We both agree to keep each other in line, then?” Duke sighed and held out his pinkie as if they needed to formally promise in order for them to stick to it. In reality, neither would let the other spoil this for Jehan. She’d been looking forward to it for weeks, even declaring it a day off on the chore calendar.
“Deal,” Sam said, taking his hand. The two of them blinked at each other, then cracked up. “Come on, let’s go inside and eat food that will make us feel hungry.”
The pair of them walked arm and arm through the restaurant door into a room that could only be described as dark blue. The paint on the walls was almost midnight blue, while the floor was a blue-and-white pattern that reminded Sam of those vintage Dutch ceramic tiles she sometimes saw in houses from the 1930s. Even the cushions on the furniture were blue. As they rounded the corner, Sam spotted Jehan and Travis seated on one side of a four-person table, speaking in hushed tones. Something about the look on Jehan’s face gave Sam pause, and her feet stopped moving. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something in the air was wrong, and Sam wanted to snatch her friend awayfrom the table and take all three of them back outside to try to flag down their ride again.
The act of Sam holding still caused Duke to jerk backward. The sight of a large and extremely conspicuous man flailing brought Jehan’s and Travis’s attention to them. In an instant, the lines on Jehan’s face smoothed, and Travis affixed a smile that hovered somewhere between drop dead and rictus on his face.
“You two ready to grub?” Jehan asked after what felt like a lifetime of silence.
“Yup,” Duke said, regaining his footing. Gently tugging on Sam’s arm, he added, “I’m super excited about the cauliflower-steak bites.”
“You know it.” Sam doubted that any food eaten with a man who called ketchup spicy would be grubbable, but Jehan looked like she needed a lifeline, so she said, “I’m most excited about the plant-based brisket.”
Reaching the table, the pair of them sat down right as someone from the waitstaff appeared wearing an entirely denim outfit and said, “Hi, I’m Stephanie, and I’ll be your server for the tasting. Before we get started, are there any food allergies I should be aware of?”
It took everything in Sam not to grin at Stephanie’s stereotypical Valley girl accent as she shook her head no. Before moving to California, she’d assumed everyone there sounded the same way. As it turned out, the accent was literally reserved for the valley outside Los Angeles. It wasn’t common to hear it this far north, and it immediately made her feel like she was listening to someone who’d swallowed a reality TV star.
Taking in the shaking heads, Stephanie said, “Okay, then let’s get started. I have a series of small plates and pairings featuring local, vegan, organic wines for us to begin with.”
As if on cue, a line of servers descended on them with about fifteen tiny plates and a bazillion glasses, and Sam realized that if this was just the passed-apps course, she would be full for three days and need about a week to sober up.
