“So what do you do for fun around here?” Noah asks, wiping at his mouth delicately, seemingly the perfect gentleman despite the loaded question.
I fight, I fight hard not to roll my eyes, and try come up with something interesting to say, but I come up empty.
“I read a lot, I work a lot,” I say around a bite of my Lebanese chicken. “That’s all there is to me. What you see is what you get.” I squint at him. “Or did you mean the city? I wouldn’t know, either way. I practically live here.”
If he makes a movie reference, I’ll have to kill him. I’ll just have to.
“Did you like the book I got you?” Noah asks, stabbing into his tabbouleh salad when it’s more of a scooping salad than anything else. I don’t know why he’s being so vicious, as if he’s unsettled.
Hold on, is he unsettled by me? W
