“What part was your favorite?” he asks me, and I’m in a daze of him throwing me on the table and having me as his meal. “Vivienne,” he says, and I snap out of my head.

“Yeah?” I say, confused.

“What part was your favorite?” he asks me again.

“Um, the part where you guys won,” I say to him, and he laughs. “I mean, I was drinking and eating, but I heard the crowd really, really into it.” I smile at him while I pop a piece of my meatball in my mouth. “So I’m assuming by the gasps of the crowd and the fact you guys had zero goals scored on you that it was a great game.”

He laughs now, then takes a sip of water. “I guess I can live with that,” he says, and the waiter comes back out with two plates of different salads courtesy of the chef.

“I don’t know how I’m going to eat my plate at this rate,” I tell him, grabbing some arugula salad and adding it to my plate.

“You can always box it up,” he tells me. “So how have you been?” he asks, grabbing a meatball.

“Well, since yesterday when we texted, I’m still okay,” I tell him. “Oh, and not that you care anymore, but Elsa is doing well.” He laughs. “Why are you laughing?” I ask almost angrily. “You haven’t asked for her once. Not one time. You don’t even know if I’m feeding her.”

“Oh, I know you’re feeding her,” he says, not looking at me, and I grab my glass of white wine and finish it off. “You won’t let Elsa starve.”

I watch him and get a little bit irritated that he isn’t taking this seriously. “How do you know? I don’t know the first thing about raising a fish,” I tell him and take a sip of my wine and then another. “How do you know she doesn’t wonder where you are?”

He puts down his fork and leans back in the chair, and it’s the worst thing right now because him leaning back makes his shirt pull across his chest that is sculpted like the fucking David or whatever is better than the David. I want to lick him like a lollipop. “Are we still talking about the fish here?”

I tilt my head to the side. “What else could we be talking about?”

“Well, is that your way of asking me if I’m dating anyone?” he asks, and I want to slap my hand on the table and say yes, yes it is, and are you?