He looks at me over his menu, his gaze softening.
“I’m sorry,” he says, putting the menu down. “I can order for us both, if you’d like?”
It’s hard to be frustrated when he looks at me like that. Like he truly is sorry and will do anything to make it better.
“Yeah, that would be great. Honestly, if you made decisions for me this entire weekend, it would be better.”
“That’s the alcohol talking.”
“Oh, but it’s not.”
His eyes narrow. “Is this a trick?”
“What the hell could I be tricking you with?”
“Fair point.”
The waiter comes over, and Harmon rambles off two meals that sound like gibberish but also orders a bottle of wine that’ll pair well with the food, apparently.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks.
“Isn’t it what you’re paying me for?”
His jaw clenches and he nods stiffly, then pulls out his phone.
The wine comes and the waiter pours us each a glass. Harmon sips his as he looks over his phone, which I’m pretty sure is justsomething to keep him from talking to me. So, I talk to him. I have been drinking all day…
“Have you ever been drunk?” I ask.
His eyes flick to me. “Of course.”
“When’s the last time?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on. Think. When’s the last time you were drunk.”
“I don’t know. When I was in college?”
I almost spit the wine right out of my mouth. “What? Even me, who was poorer than dirt, was drunk all the time.”
“Yeah, well…”
I choose not to think about what he was going to add after that and focus on the fact he chose to say nothing. But I also think that I do not want this to be a boring trip. I won’t allow it.
“Let’s get drunk tonight.”
“I’m certain you’re already there,” he says, flicking his gaze to me for a quick moment.
“I am not. I’m fun when I’m drunk.”
He raises a brow.
“I am,” I argue. “But I bet you’re not,” I coax. “I bet you’re boring.”
I see the twitch in his eye. He puts his phone down. “Is that what you think?”
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “Yep.”