She nodded her head, not at all sure she liked where he was going with this particular topic of conversation.
“So, tonight for dinner, you will experience it rather than simply consume it as quickly as possible. Not everything is a competition.”
“Is too,” she grumbled.
That earned her a pointed and judgmental look from Christian. Kessen merely shrugged her shoulders in return and did as he asked, or at least tried to do as he asked. She wasn’t perfect, after all.
She sat on the bar stool and watched to her utter horror as Christian grabbed a napkin and covered her eyes, tying it around her head.
Kessen exhaled loudly as the blindfold molded tightly around her head, leaving her in the dark. It made her want to throw the pasta in Christian’s face, but that would be wasteful, and she was ravenously hungry.
“Now.” His voice held amusement. “I’ll let you take a bite each time you get an answer right. When you answer incorrectly, I’ll take a bite.”
She laughed. “Like taking candy from a baby.”
Again, she could have sworn she heard him mumble something highly inappropriate under his breath, but she could have been imagining it.
He cleared his throat. “Question one.”
“Give it to me,” she said competitively.
“Christian, that’s me, has one dog and a cat. What are their names, and why did he name them what he did? You have exactly three minutes to make your guess.”
“First of all, I don’t need three minutes. And second, be ready to lose.”
He laughed and waited.
“You have one dog named Mr. Churchill, because at one point you wanted to be prime minister. Your cat is a Siamese whom you named Mrs. Wigglesworth, after the nanny who used to take care of you when you were young. Oh, and Christian, I believe that was under twenty seconds. Just a guess though.”
No answer. It was as if he had disappeared.
And then a giant spoonful of food was shoved into her mouth, splashing marinara sauce all over on her chin and nose. She ate it anyway, then smiled sweetly and leaned in for Christian to wipe her face.
“Question two. This is my question,” he said.
“Wait. What about my face?”
“What about it?”
“I have sauce on it!” she accused.
“And?”
“I want it off.”
“Sorry. That’s not part of the game. You’ll have to wait, America. As I was saying, Question two, my question. There are three things that make Kessen cry, all of which are irrational. What are these things and why?”
Kessen laughed. “Good luck. You have three minutes, champ.”
“Number one, you cry when you watch Extreme Makeover Home Edition, because it makes you happy that people who work hard for others get rewarded.”
“Lucky guess,” she muttered, crossing her arms.
“Number two, you cry when you watch any Disney movie. But the one that makes you the saddest is The Little Mermaid, because when you were young, you wanted to be a mermaid, and your father said you couldn’t. Number three is when you see old people stand up at church on Veteran’s Day. It makes you cry because they proudly served their country.”
Kessen didn’t say anything. She was too angry, and what she wanted to say wouldn’t have been appropriate for even a man to say out loud.
“Did I get close, Kessen?” he sneered.
“How’d you know?” she stammered.
“Nick. And where did you get your information?”
“Duncan, of course.”
He gave her a pointed glare. “It seems we’ve both done our homework. May the best man win.”
“Indeed,” she seethed. “My turn. Read my question.”
“Question three. This one’s for you, Kessen. How many girlfriends has Christian had, and did he kiss all of the girlfriends in question?”
Kessen felt short of breath. She remembered quizzing Duncan quickly about such matters but had no idea what the actual number was. Where was an internet search engine when she needed it? “Okay. You … you have had seven girlfriends, and you only kissed six.”
It was either seven or eight girlfriends; she erred on it being less than she thought.
“And why did I only kiss six?” he asked.
He had her there, but honestly a man like Christian would only kiss a girl if he was attracted to her. “Because you weren’t attracted to her; therefore, you didn’t want to lead her on!” she blurted.
She could feel his scowl and assumed it was as such, considering the force with which he put the spoonful of pasta towards her face.
“Thanks,” she muttered between chewing. Even though she was wearing more sauce than she was eating, she had to admit it did taste good. Christian was obviously a talented chef.
“Next question?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts of sauce and cooking.
“Hit me with it. And just so you know, I mean the question, not the spaghetti sauce. If there is even any sauce left! I’m wearing half of it on my face.”
“More than half, I’d say.” He chuckled. “Okay, America. Here is the question for me. How many boyfriends has Kessen had and did she kiss any of them?”
His words came out slower in the end, almost as if he was questioning what he was reading.
“Um, Kessen?”
Kessen attempted to hum, so she wouldn’t hear what she thought he was going to say.
“What does the question mean by any of them?”
“I’m sorry. Kessen’s not here right now. If you would just leave your name, number, and a short—”
“Kessen!” he snapped.
She felt her shoulders slump in defeat. “I’m going to kill Nick.”
“Because…?”
She huffed. “Because he’s the only one who actually knows the answer to that question and because it’s mortifying!”
“So, I’ll still need to answer it, then?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You’ve dated three men, two of which were blind dates set up by Nick. And honestly, Kessen, I’m going to have to forfeit the rest of the question and say you win. I have no idea how many of them you kissed or didn’t kiss.”
“Not even a guess?”
“All of them?” His voice held a high amount of optimism, making her feel more like a loser than she would have liked.
She sighed loudly. “No. None of them.”
Silence.
And then laughter, lots and lots of laughter.