Page 8 of Handful

Down, boy. You’re here to prove you’re not an asshole, remember?

“Here.” She set the glass in front of me. “Sixteen dollars.”

I handed her a twenty. “Keep it.”

“You know tipping well doesn’t make up for being an asshole, right?”

Asshole. She’d said it out loud. So I’d been right about what she thought of me. “I know. But you’re good at your job. You deserve good tips.”

She blinked. That had caught her off guard.

“I’m not trying to buy you,” I added. “I just… I was an asshole last time. I wanted to apologize. For real.”

“You already apologized.”

“I apologized because you told me to. That’s different.” I wrapped my hands around the glass, watching the ice spin. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About how I talk to women. About them. And you’re right. I was, I am, I don’t know. It’s just how I’ve always been.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“I know it’s not. That’s my point.” I looked up at her. “I don’t have an excuse. I just… it’s what I do. What I’ve always done. And I’m aware enough to know it’s shit, which makes it worse.” Austen was quiet for a long moment. I couldn’t read her expression — she had an excellent poker face — but she hadn’t walked away. That was something.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want to see you again. Not as a customer. As…” I struggled for the right word. “As someone who wants to get to know you.” I’d said variations of that line before, smoother and faster. It had never felt this hard. And I’d never been nervous about the answer before.

“A date?”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

“That’s literally what it is.”

“Then yes. A date.” A date. I hadn’t gone on a date in years. I didn’t date — I charmed, I flirted, I fucked, I moved on. This was different and I had no idea what I was doing.

She laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

I couldn’t tell if that was good. I was used to knowing where I stood with a woman. Austen was a blank wall to me. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a no.” She leaned on the bar, bringing her face closer to mine. “I don’t date customers. Especially customers who treat women like you do.”

The rejection stung, but I’d been half expecting it. What I hadn’t expected was the small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “What’s funny?”

“You. You just gave me this big speech about changing your habits, and then you asked me out.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Except this is the fourth time we’ve met. Think about that.” She straightened up. “You want to impress me? Stop trying so hard. Stop playing whatever game you think this is. Just… be a normal human being for five minutes.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“Then learn.” She walked away to serve a customer, leaving me staring after her.

This is the fourth time we’ve met.

I turned that over. I’d counted two — the bar last Friday, and tonight. Where the hell was she getting four from?

Just be a normal human being.

It sounded so simple when she said it. Like all I had to do was flip a switch and suddenly become someone else.