The waiter just nodded.
“I’m starving,” I said. “What’s for dinner?”
The waiter cleared his throat. “Pan-seared duck breast with blueberry sauce and roasted potatoes.”
Uh-oh. “I’m—”
Ryan said, “Sam is allergic to duck. And blueberries.”
I said, “What?”
Todd said, “Oh dear.”
The waiter said, “So he’s allergic to the full meal.”
“Not the potatoes,” Ryan said.
I said, “What?”
Todd said, “You’re allergic to blueberries?”
Ryan said, “And the duck.”
“I swell up,” I said to Todd. “I look like a mountain troll. It’s really weird. I don’t want to do that on the first date. That’s like a fourth or fifth-date thing. Or a never thing. Because of the swelling.”
“Blueberries,” Todd said.
“We have other things,” the waiter said.
“Everything on this menu says duck,” Ryan said as he plucked it from the table
“It’s sort of a theme night,” Todd said faintly.
“You have a duck theme night?” I asked. “That’s epic. And deadly. If you’re allergic.”
“Maybe not a lot of other things,” the waiter said.
“Basically everything on the menu will kill him,” Ryan said.
“Blueberries,” Todd said.
“How did you know that?” I asked Ryan.
“There’s potatoes and bread,” the waiter said. “And blueberry wine. Wait. We have water.”
“Potatoes and bread?” I said with a frown. “But the carbs.”
Ryan said, “I know things.”
Todd said, “Oh my gods. Are you going to swell now? Is just breathing the duck and blueberry air going to kill you?” He sounded like he was panicking.
“It might,” Ryan said. He didn’t sound like he was panicking.
“It won’t,” I said, reaching out and patting Todd’s hand.
“It might,” Ryan insisted. Sort of panicking. Barely panicking.
I rolled my eyes. “You and Gary are such drama queens. I’m not going to sniff it up close.” I glanced at Todd. “Though, there will be no making out later if you eat duck. You’ll make my tongue swell.” I waggled my eyebrows at him.