The server walks away, leaving me once again alone with Mr. Tolstoy Wannabe. I hope at least they’ll be quick in bringing our drinks. My gaze unwisely drifts sideways toward Lucas. Our eyes meet for a brief second, and he winks at me before returning his attention to his date.

The little gesture makes me blush, and causes my stomach to do a silly, unwarranted flip.

Oh, gosh. Where is that drink?

Eighteen

Lucas

After casually eavesdropping on Medusa’s date for a while, I feel secure in my professional housing situation. No way Vivian will go out with that pompous windbag a second time. Not if she has an ounce of sanity in her. Unfortunately, my own date isn’t going much better.

“What do you do for a living?” I ask Sonia.

Not because I care, but to keep a basic conversation flowing until the meal is over and I can politely excuse myself. Once again, I’m in the middle of a date with a woman I have no interest in seeing again. Sonia’s constant word confusion is annoying—but that alone wouldn’t have been enough to toss her in the “never again” box. But she’s kept her phone on the table the entire time we’ve been seated and hasn’t gone more than ten seconds without checking it. A huge no-no for me. She probably doesn’t understand half of what I say because she’s only partially listening to me between composing texts.

To prove my point, Sonia finishes typing something on her phone before answering my question. “I’m a lifestyle blogger. At least, that’s how my business started. Today, you might call me an ‘influencer.’” She air-quotes the last word.

“Is it a difficult job?” I ask.

“Not so much once you have a solid base of followers, but I constantly have to engage with them on all my socials.”

“Sounds demanding.”

“Exactly,” Sonia says. “Many people don’t understand, but I’m glad you get it. And I’m lucky I haven’t had to deal with too many trolls so far. People can be mean online.”

“Oh, trust me, people can be dreadful also in real life.”

“Sorry, you’re right, I can only imagine what awful things you saw in prison.”

Before I have a chance to reply, her ten free seconds expire and she picks up her phone again.

Whatever, I give up.

Constantly being connected is part of her livelihood, I get it, and I have nothing against it per se, but it’d drive me crazy in a relationship.

While Sonia is busy, my attention is inevitably pulled back to the other couple having an awful first date.

“How’s your steak?” Medusa asks.

“Rather ligneous,” the windbag replies. “Overcooked.”

Ah, from the way he’s scarfing the food down, I wouldn’t have guessed.