On Her Own

Benji

I snorted. “They won’t spit in our food. You didn’t offend him. He probably just has no sense of humor. Or all his years working with the public has turned him into an unfeeling machine.”

“The latter is more likely I suppose,” Charlie muttered.

Charlie might have been right. Louis was not the most attentive waiter after our wine order, which was bizarre to me because Charlie hadn’t been rude at all. He took our food orders with an expression and tone of disinterest, never asking if we wanted an appetizer or listing the current specials, then sighed dramatically before walking away from our table.

“I think you’re right,” Charlie said after he left. “I think he’s just jaded and hates the public.”

“But we’re so charming.”

She giggled. God. It got better every damn time. She was already half a glass of wine in and her cheeks were turning pink. So was her nose. “We’re the most charming people he’s ever met, he just doesn’t know it.”

“Cheers to that,” I said.

We tapped our wine glasse