“If I told you my favorite French fry dip was ketchup would you think less of me?” Chris leans in as he asks the question, the menu spread out in front of him on the table, his light brown hair falling across his forehead. He’s wearing jeans and a green tee-shirt with a picture of a cartoon squid on it. The squid’s cool, but I mostly like the shirt because it shows off his arms, toned and strong. I’m wearing a flouncy skirt, a purple scoop neck top, a matching necklace with small purple plastic squares strung together, and my Mary Janes.
“Dude, you drove my views up by fifty-five percent in one day,” I say, referring to the viewership stats from yesterday when he first mentioned me, because if I say what I want to say – How could I think less of you, you beautiful man – he’d run. “So as for how you like your French fries, well I say you could eat them in a boat, you could eat them in a box, you could eat them with a fox –” I cover my face with my hands. “I can’t believe what I just said.”
Chris laughs. “You’re reciting Green Eggs and Ham!”
“I know.” I look up, a little embarrassed. “Well, Chris. The cat’s out of the bag. I’m kind of a dork.”
“Nah, that’s just a good book.”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe I said that, like it was a punchline or something. I think it was because I was reading it to my friend’s kid last night. She’s eight and she still loves it.” Chris looks at me, listening, but I feel kind of silly again. Why does he bring out the awkward in me? Oh right. Because I want to run my hands through his hair, and I want to find a million reasons to touch him, his hands, his arm, his legs. Because, yeah, that’s awkward.
Chris’ green eyes sparkle. “But would you eat them in a house? Would you eat them with a mouse?”
“Not in a box, not with a fox, not in a house, not with a mouse,” I fire back, and I could kiss him for the way he now makes me feel un-awkward.
“I would not eat them here or there. I would not eat them anywhere.”
“Okay, Mr. McCormick. Pretty damn impressive.”
A waiter pops by our table, fresh-faced and smiling, with a face so smooth he looks he hasn’t even started shaving yet. “And what can I get you fine folks today?” he asks, rather jollily.
“I’m gonna go a little wild and order some French fries,” I begin.
“Yeah, go nuts!” the waiter replies cheerily. “What kind of sauce would you like with that?”
“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you surprise me? Just pick your three best, any three, and bring them back to me.”
The waiter’s eyes light up. He’s thrilled to have been entrusted with such an important task. “It will be my pleasure.”
“And I’ll have the Mediterranean salad with that,” I add.
“And for you?” The chipper boy asks my lunch companion. Chris orders a chicken sandwich, French fries, and extra ketchup. The waiter returns to the kitchen. I launch right back into conversation.
“So now I feel I must regain some street cred in your eyes, so I’ll tell you that the last time I watched her kid, I read her the lyrics to one of my favorite songs to teach her new words.”
“And what would those be?”
“Well, now she knows all about an airline ticket to romantic places and a tinkling piano in the next apartment since I read the lyrics to These Foolish Things to her,” I say, then I want to clamp my hand on my mouth. Why don’t I just tell him to whisk me away and bury me in kisses that make me forget where am I as the world disappears and time slows to one delicious moment with him? Because I don’t think I gained any points by serving up that romantic mushfest to him.
“You should know that, one, you didn’t lost any street cred by reciting Green Eggs and Ham, two, you definitely gained even more coolness for sharing one of my top five favorite songs of all time, a song I would only ever admit I liked to a girl,” he says, and I hide a grin because I didn’t just mess up. “And three, I know the words to Green Eggs and Ham because it was my little sister Jill’s favorite book, and I taught her to read way back when.”
“What a good older brother.”
“Thank you. I’m one of two brothers. Youngest boy, and Jill’s the only girl.”
“And is Jill out here in the Bay Area?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “Nope. She’s in New York. Actress. She landed a part in this new Broadway musical called Crash the Moon. It opens soon and I’m going to go see her. I’m really proud of her.”
“I’ve heard about that musical. It sounds amazing.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty stoked about it. We text and email a lot, and she’s been telling me about it. But I think the director is also making her kind of crazy.”
“I have to imagine directors of musicals probably have a way of doing that.”
He smiles back and this time I notice his teeth. They are nice, straight and white.
“So I wanted to thank you again for mentioning my show on your show. That’s what this crazy video world is built on, right? Cross promotion.”
“Speaking of, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” Chris says.
My heart sinks. I had thought this was a date. But it turns out he may have a business agenda. Then I tell myself it’s better this way. I wouldn’t know how to date someone like him for real.
The waiter appears with our salads, sandwiches, fries and sauces. He deposits the plates on the table, hurries off, then returns with water. He clasps his hands together, almost like he’s praying. “Now, can I get you anything else? Anything else at all?”
I shake my head and Chris says no. The waiter leaves.
“Is he like the happiest person you have ever met?” Chris asks.
“Yeah, I’ll have what he’s having.”
“So, I have to tell you. I looked you up after I gave you back your camera,” Chris says, and I find myself hopeful again because he looked me up. He dips a French fry into the ketchup. “When you finally gave me your last name and well –” He stops himself, shifts gears a bit, then resumes. “And then when I did and saw you were this big Web personality...”
I laugh once. “Hardly.”
“Anyway, I added you to my RSS feed and started watching your show every day, even though, I have to say, I’m not into fashion. But I watched it because…” his voice trails off again, and I want to fill in the gaps. I want to script what’s unsaid. Because you thought I was cute too? But I can’t let myself hope. Hope leads to disappointment. “And then when you talked about the dates you went on and how they flopped, that’s when it hit me. I could send you some of my viewers. Because they’re young and hopefully somewhat cool.”