A Bird in the Oven - Kata Cuic Page 0,20

she is displeased with our date, but she is not behaving as a typical date would either.

My food tastes like garbage. I am feeling petulant.

“Am I doing something wrong?” I blurt.

Olivia’s eyes widen like she is surprised by my outburst.

I am, too. I make it a point to never lose my composure on a date. Not all of them are successful. That is simply the way of the world.

“No. Why? Do you feel like you’re doing something wrong?” She seems perturbed by this suggestion.

“You will not speak to me. Dates generally entail some level of conversation.” I am not usually the one who is more skilled at it, but I have learned to rely on my appearance to boost my potential success. I am very good at smiling and also expressing lust.

Olivia glances around to the other patrons who are enjoying their meals and carrying on very lively conversations—unlike at our table. A slight frown pulls at her lips. “It’s awfully loud in here, Ollie. I don’t want to have to shout just for you to be able to hear me.”

Oh. That is very kind of her. It is a level of courtesy I am not conditioned to expect.

I scoot my chair and my plate closer to her. “There. Now you will not have to shout.”

She smiles again, her lovely lips forming an upside-down horseshoe. She does not, however, attempt to carry on a conversation with me. Simply returns to her meal in silence.

“Have I not chosen topics that interest you? I will admit—because you are my best friend—that the weather and the latest sports scores are boring to me as well. Perhaps you could suggest something for us to discuss.” I roll the Brussels sprouts around on my plate. They smell awful. I have no intention of eating them nor anything else their sauce has contaminated.

Liv hides her mouthful of food behind her napkin. Her beautiful green eyes dance with mirth. After a few moments of chewing then swallowing, she finally responds. “How about you actually eat the dinner you’re paying for? It seems a shame to waste so much money, and you’ll be hungry later if you don’t eat now.”

It would be rude to admit the truth. “I am not particularly hungry.”

She narrows her eyes. “You eat like a horse.”

“I am also not a horse.”

“You are a very large man who lifts weights every morning. You eat like your body has a high caloric intake requirement.”

I cannot argue with those data-driven facts, so I say nothing.

Liv’s eyes narrow further. She turns her gaze to the table, studying our dinners like they will give her answers. Her shoulders slump, and she leans back in her chair. “It’s the Brussels sprouts. You hate Brussels sprouts because of the strong scent.” She sighs. “Oh, Oliver. Why didn’t you remind me?”

“You wanted them. You like them. I want to make you happy.” Nothing rude about those true statements.

She glances back and forth between our meals. “Well, then why did you put them on your plate?”

“You ordered a shareable side dish. I would be a bad date if I did not put some on my plate.”

She makes an odd noise that sounds like a cross between a gurgle and a scoff then throws her napkin on her plate even though she has not consumed the usual amount of food that she eats. “How many dates have you been on that you left hungry?”

Since this is not a question about the women, I answer, “Nine-hundred and sixty-two out of one thousand, two hundred and twenty-four.”

Her eyes widen. She chokes then finally gulps her water. “You’ve been on a lot of dates.”

“You have been on four hundred and thirty-nine. That is not a small number.” Those are only the ones I know about.

Her eyes flit back and forth though she is not really looking at anything. “Has it really been that many? Oh, we’re counting multiple dates with the same person, aren’t we? And defining a date as any time we’re with the person outside of our homes. I suppose that’s accurate then.”

“I am certain your total number is much higher because we lived on different campuses for four years during undergrad, and I was not around you for much of that time.”

She nods, confident in my assessment of the situation. Olivia is always much more confident in me than I feel about myself. She is a very good best friend. She reaches out to wrap her hand around mine. “Ollie, you don’t have to