She arrived early to the restaurant. She told herself she’d come in early and stay late tomorrow. The large hand-painted Live Bait sign on the front of the restaurant façade looked like it had been written by a child in a mix of upper- and lower-case letters, and underneath it, large neon letters flashed “Bar Restaurant” in red. More neon signs (“Dixie, BBQ, Raw Bar, Beer”) adorned the two aluminum-framed windows on either side of the door. A handwritten sign in the window said, “If you want home cooking, stay home” next to a medal for cooking. Buoys filled the bottom of the window.

Jake was waiting at the bar, which was against one wall, taking up the front third of the restaurant. She could barely see the mirrored back behind all the bottles of alcohol and the sparkly lights. He came over and kissed her firmly on the lips. He put his arm around her and notified the hostess they were ready.

“Trust you to find a restaurant named Live Bait,” she said.

“Yes, it’s not the most romantic place, but it’s fun,” he said. “And the food is good.”

“It’s classic you.” The relaxed vibe, a group of friends standing in a circle, beers in hand, laughing at some joke—it was a place designed to foster informality and high spirits.

“I hope I don’t smell of stale beer,” he joked.

“No.” She hugged him close. “You smell of you.”

“Eloquent.”

“I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” She winked at him. Pop music was playing, and some people were swaying by the bar. They walked to the back of the restaurant where white aluminum-sided tables with colorful plastic chairs were surrounded by turquoise booths on the side. Fishing nets, Mardi Gras beads, and a large mounted swordfish decorated the walls. The waitress seated them at a turquoise booth and handed them menus.

“Work was a bit tough today. I was distracted,” she said.

“Distracted, huh?” He smiled and took her hand across the table.

She leaned forward and gazed into his eyes. “Most definitely.” Maybe they shouldn’t have gone out for dinner. She didn’t have much appetite for food. The waitress interrupted the moment, and she quickly echoed his order for fish tacos.

“My friend Rory is having a Halloween costume party. Do you want to go with me?” he asked.

“Yes, definitely,” she said, happy that he was asking her out for something in the future.

“When do they make the partnership decision again?” he asked.

“December.”

“No hints?”

“Not as far as I can tell. But then I may not be that good at reading tea leaves.” Audrey sipped her water. “You, for example. I had a really hard time figuring out if you were interested. Why did you take so long?”

“What? It was almost impossible for me to tell if you were keen.”

“What do you mean?”