"You have an Instagram?" I ask.
"Only the one I made to message you."
"It was empty."
"I know."
"We could fill it," I say. "With pictures of you."
"I'll get kicked off."
"They can be PG-13."
"I'll think about it." She shifts into casual conversation. "Do you like matcha?" She looks to my hand, but she doesn't take it. Instead, she resumes walking and nods for me to follow.
I do. "When it's sweet enough."
"You have a sweet tooth?"
"I can't take much bitter."
"But you drink coffee," she says.
"With cream and sugar," I say.
"And the Bud Light?"
"You didn't even see it," I say.
"You didn't deny it," she says.
"It's not as bad as it sounds."
"Maybe." She laughs. "I don't drink beer. I have no idea what's good or bad."
"It's not the worst, but it's not great either."
"Do you like beer?"
"Not anymore." It reminds me of the guy I used to be. It reminds me of the nights I spent trying to drink myself into oblivion. That takes a lot of beer. Way too much beer. "What do you drink?"
"Gin and tonic," she says. "But only one or two."
"That's smart. You stay clear-headed."
"Yeah. And… well, you know how some people are happy drunks and some people are mean drunks?" she asks.
"And some people are horny drunks?"
A laugh spills from her lips. "Is that you?"
"Are you going to ply me with alcohol to find out?"
"No. I couldn't bring myself to buy light beer. Or… what do you drink now?"
I don't, mostly. "Whatever sounds good."
"You're very agreeable."