2.3

She smiles so coyly over her glasses. It makes me want to go find a flower and pick it for her. I lick my lips nervously. She notices and cocks one eyebrow in a vicious arch. I laugh. We haven't said any words and it's starting to get dry in the empty space between us.

My "So, uh . . ." cuts over top of her "Anyway . . ."

We pause. This only ever happens in movies.

She rolls her eyes. "I'll go first. You work in plastics?"

"Swathed in it, yes."

Demure smile. Crap. I thought that was a good joke.

"But more seriously, you make . . ."

"Anything. Right now, ship parts. Next week it will be novelty clown shoes. Then, who knows? We don't make the orders; we just fill them."

"Fascinating."

"You're a good lier."

"I pride myself on it."

"Try another one."

"You're attractive."

I winced. "Ha ha. Very funny."

Our conversation meandered from the Paleozoic to the White House, and through three different types of wine. Two hours later, she laughed more and I made fewer jokes. Suddenly, her face turned grave and her eyebrows drew together.

"Why are you trying so hard to impress me?"

"What? I . . ."

She shushed me. "Think before you answer."

So I did.

She was certainly attractive enough. I think I usually try too hard around pretty women and I'm just sure it shows. I haven't had a date in longer than I care to admit, and that certainly hasn't helped my flirtatiousness one bit. I really want this to work out, because she imminently likable and fantastically right. She had that feel of right just oozing off of her and filling the air and my lungs. I was just drinking it in. It tasted like happiness and being pushed on a swing by your father in the middle of summer, right when you've forgotten about last school year and there seems to be an infinite July spread out in front of you. It tasted like the right sort of sad and crying and feeling clean and pure afterward because you were trying to get something off your chest. It felt like freshness and washed sheets before anyone has touched them and the smell of a new car before feet stain the rugs and the whip of wind in your face as you open a door and the sound of a city as you exit a cab and the feel of land beneath your feet after hours on a ship. She was everything I wanted to have and I was afraid it showed. So why was I trying so hard?

"I suppose," I started huskily, then paused for breath and took a drink. "I suppose," I started again and paused for effect, "I don't know. It might be my inner self trying to sabotage the first good thing that has happened to me in a long time. But I don't know. My inner self usually hates me, but I haven't talked to him since electroshock therapy." Smart, man. Go for the inappropriate joke. Ladies love that. Stupid.

She pursed her lips and pulled them to one side of her face. "I suppose I can live with that." She stood up.

Crap. I blew it. I blew it and it's all over. Perfect. Nothing left for me! I can just

"Are you coming?" She had stopped three feet away and turned around to wait. I grabbed the glass and downed the last of the liquid clinging to the sides.

"Let's roll." I took her arm and opened the door for her, but I never felt more like a king.