John smiled to himself as he returned to the refrigerator for parsley. “That’s right,” he said, closing the door. “I used my date as a human shield.”

She wiped her eyes. “Oh my god, the look on your face when the guy pressed himself against the quarantine fence.” She started laughing again. “The sheer panic!”

“They were getting dangerously close to touching us,” John said. “I was told there would be no touching.”

“I’m sorry, John,” Victoria said, attempting to be somber for a second. But once she met his gaze, she fell apart all over again, nearly sliding off her barstool. “I just remembered the guy on the hospital gurney,” she howled.

John laid his knife on the counter and planted his fists on his hips. “Now how exactly am I supposed to redeem myself after that debacle?” he asked. “How can I possibly come out looking like a man?”

She wiped her face and took a sip of her wine. “Johnny, if you were sitting from where I am, looking at you, you wouldn’t have to ask such a question.”

He raised a brow. Were they already in “Johnny” territory? As he studied her face, he noted the pinkish tint in her brown cheeks. John had reason to believe that Victoria was a little intoxicated. “Is that a fact?” he asked nonchalantly.

She nodded. “You’re very manly,” she said. “Being afraid doesn’t make you any less of a man, it makes you more human.”

He went back to chopping. “So you didn’t mind my excessive shouting during the tour?”

“The girlish screams, you mean?”

He chuckled. “There was nothing girlish about them. They were throaty masculine shouts of anger.”

“I thought it was sexy,” she said sweetly. “Masculine posturing has never been a turn-on for me. It’s all a performance that gets old and tired.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, transferring the chopped tomatoes to a bowl. “Are there any performances that personally tire you out?”

She sighed, propping her head against her fist. “Oh, working at Pembroke is a constant performance. This semester especially.”

“Tell me about it,” John urged. He’d been slyly wheedling information out of her for most of the afternoon and evening. So far, he’d learned about her parents, who were still married and living in Chicago, her education and what drove her towards studying literature, and her hidden wild streak that drove him to senseless frights. In the car ride home, she’d made a point to distract him from the horrors of the haunted warehouse by making him talk about his life. John had shared a lot of information about his family, ADD, and his career, and found Victoria to be an engaging listener.