Patience
The Greek girl’s hair is as dark as I imagine the universe will be after succumbing to heat death. She absentmindedly twists a lock of it around her index finger while she studies my face.
“You’re adorable!” I blurt out, brushing her chin and then resting my hand upon her thigh. “Seriously, you have to stop doing this to me; I can’t help myself around you.”
She laughs. She says nothing. It is always the shy ones who have me making a fool of myself.
I know better. I’ve been here before. This is Leslie’s date, not one of mine, and when it comes to the delicate mechanics of triangulation I know that an overabundance of male energy can spoil the fantasy. If I wanted to be the center of attention I’d be on my own date right now.
I do eventually return to my senses, choosing instead to flirt with another woman at the bar. When I see Les and her date kissing I smile, remembering that things have a way of working out when I’m not trying so damned hard.
