At the table, Lola and Marlene were positioning themselves on a bench seat against the wall. Chip was milling around, trying to do the mental math about where he should sit. He backed up on Scarlett and Spencer’s approach, letting them take whatever seats they wanted. Spencer delayed sitting down, hesitating between two chairs for over a minute. Chip eventually got so nervous from this that he excused himself.

“Sit!” Lola exclaimed when Chip was out of earshot.

Spencer gleefully took a seat next to Scarlett. A trayful of organic guava smoothies arrived, unbidden. These were the best drinks in the place, but were also shockingly expensive.

“Chip is trying to win us over with fancy fruit drinks, huh?” Spencer asked, accepting one.

“I ordered them,” Marlene said. “I also got guacamole.”

“Spencer,” Lola said, “be nice!”

“I was,” he said, straightening the napkin on his lap. “I was being very nice. I was asking him about his nice tie.”

“I know what you were doing.”

“Yes, but could you prove it in court?”

“Spencer, please…”

“What? I’m telling you, nice is my middle name. Right, Scarlett?”

“Your middle name is Reynolds,” Scarlett said, sipping from her smoothie.

“Just one night,” Lola said. “Please, Spence. Don’t bait him. He’s trying to be friends.”

“Kind of a pointless activity, don’t you think? Considering that he’s your ex, and he’s leaving the city tomorrow?”

“Stop it, Spencer!” Marlene said, a note of absolute authority in her voice. “Don’t ruin everything!”

Spencer shrugged and sat back, folding his arms over his chest in temporary surrender.

Chip returned just as the guacamole cart came rattling up to the table. They all watched a man with an alarmingly wide smile whack avocados in half and smash them to bits in a huge stone mortar. It looked like a carefree job, one that helped you get out all your aggressions and frustrations. Scarlett watched him enviously as he smacked down the pestle, grinding in the garlic and onions and cilantro. He would never need therapy. Anytime he had a problem, an avocado would meet a terrible death.

“Obviously, um, tonight’s on me,” Chip said as the waiter approached. “I just thought, you know, dinner…”

“Thank you,” Lola said politely. She was doing some kind of napkin origami in her lap.

Once they had ordered half the menu (Spencer wasn’t kidding), a fog of silence fell on the table. Lola and Chip kept slipping looks at each other, being tediously, horribly coy. Unlike the silences between Scarlett and Eric, these were full of meaning and potential, and Scarlett wanted no part of them.

“What are you majoring in?” she asked, breaking the silence. She didn’t care, it was just the only question that sprang to mind.