I sink down onto the couch opposite her. Pop open my own pizza box. As I chew, my gaze travels around her living room. I make out an elephant lamp in the corner. A heap of books un-organized on a shelf. A homemade throw in varying colors.
“You’re inspecting,” she tells me. “I can see it.”
“Inspecting?”
“Oh, yes. Making judgements, too, I’m guessing.”
I raise a pizza slice her way. “It’s not like you to be suspicious.”
She laughs. “I’m just realistic.”
“You don’t need to worry. I’m not an interior designer.”
“No, you’re a venture capitalist. Which means you’re a little of everything, aren’t you? You wear a lot of hats.” Summer props up a pillow behind her head and leans back. She looks like a mischievous goddess, a model divine, in her silk dress and gleaming eyes. The blonde hair is a tumble of curls around her shoulders. “Actually, have you ever worn a hat? I think you’d look good in one.”
I shake my head. “You’ve had a lot more champagne than I realized.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Sure you’re not.”
“I’m just… elevated by the juice of the grape.”
I raise my eyebrows and she laughs. “I read that in an article once. Isn’t it a great way to say drunk?”
“Sure. It’s also six words too long.”
Summer laughs. “You have a lot more humor than I thought the first time I met you.”
“Well, I’m glad I can surprise you.”
She smiles and grabs another slice of pizza. I take a bite of my own and breathe in the comfortable silence. It’s been a long time since I sat like this with anyone. Despite the charity auction, despite the meaningless fucking small talk I’d had to engage in, the pressure behind my eyes is absent.
A good day, in the middle of a bad year.
“So,” Summer says.
I raise an eyebrow. “So?”
“This wasn’t your official third date or anything. The bet is still on. But if it were, how did I do?”
“You want a performance review?”
Her smile flashes again. “Yes. A debrief, like we’ve done before. What did you think of the client I fixed you up with tonight?”
I turn my face to the windows and the darkness beyond. The pathway to effortless conversation feels rusty. “She was serious when she needed to be. Silly when she could.”
“A good mix of the two?”
“Yes, I’d say so.”
Summer gives a lowwhoopof victory, startling Ace, lying beside her on the couch.
I roll my eyes at her. “I’m not that difficult to please.”
“Sure you’re not,” she says, but she’s smiling. “What else?”
“Is this a debrief, or are you fishing for compliments?”