As we talk after our lovely little dinner, we drink by the pool and walk by the fence. We share a good laugh talking about his friends; sometimes, he’ll make a joke. This is the night I find out he’s had at least eighteen girlfriends in the past.
“That’s too many,” I comment.
“How about you?”
A beat passes. “Four.”
“You paused.”
I pat his arm and giggle. The wine is probably affecting me. “I paused because I want to make sure of my answer, and I’m sure that it’s four!”
“I guess there are some you didn’t count.”
I shrug. “Maybe.” Now, he’s probably thinking, I might be one of those people. “I don’t usually commit.”
Cassius gulps the last drop of his wine. “I can understand, and that’s what makes you difficult to have.”
We both stare at the skyline, and an awkward silence follows. B
