Jego babeczka

He was the professional kind of Uber driver - the kind who had water bottles and all kinds of snacks and hand sanitizer available for his passengers. He had papers plastered everywhere about how much he appreciated good reviews.

I’d expected some slow flirtation and a lot of trying to read the tea leaves to gauge his interest. This was more like a shotgun to the face.

It was the morning after those men tried to rob the gastropub, which already felt like a weird, half-remembered nightmare. I hardly ever had her over-or anyone, for that matter, but I’d called an emergency meeting and invited all of my friends. Lilith-A.K.A. “all of my friends”-sat with her black-nailed fingers on her knees, a look of hunger in her eyes.

It didn’t help that I had no idea where we stood now. Were we “talking,” “dating,” “on the fast-track to engagement,” or had we already moved to “tried it but it didn’t work”?