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CHAPTER TWELVE

WE'RE AT THE WINDOW. Sitting on the red upholstery of the bench seating with the multicolored, stained-glass chandelier and red, neon lights overhead. The waiter smiles as he brings us our glasses of iced water. I stare out the window at a rainbow, Pride flag, thinking about how horrible my life would be right now if I was still confined to the straight jacket. I shudder, imagining myself going out to dinner with some clone of Beth and having never even met Edmund. I shut out the thought, sipping on my water.

"Are you a bottom?" Jordan asks and I nearly choke. Coughing as I glance around us, hoping that nobody heard his question, I throw him a raised brow. "I think it's only appropriate, considering where we are."

"I hardly think that's an appropriate conversation to have in public, especially at the table of a diner." I take stock of all the people sitting at the nearby counter, happy enough to see that nobody seems to have heard him. "If it's appropriate at all."

"Oh, don't be such a prude. You won't be much of a wing-man, if I don't even know that much." His amber eyes regard me as if to decipher something written upon my face and figure, perhaps an invisible and alien text and one that he, alone, might find intelligible. "Maybe you're vers."

"A what?" I ask, confused with the odd term that he just used. It may as well have been from an alien language, because I clearly don't know what he just said. He smirks as I take another sip of my water.

"You give and take, anally, that is," he says and I nearly choke again. Sitting at the front counter, the nearest patron attempts to hide his smirk behind his gray mustache and a forkful of country-fried steak dripping white with gravy.

"Thanks for clarifying. Can we move on?" I hold up my palm at him, gesturing for him to hold his tongue as our food arrives. The waiter winks at me as he places down my plate, a medium-rare steak sandwich with a side of fries. Jordan smirks as he receives his plate, the typical house burger combo. Jordan's amber eyes follow the waiter, checking him out as he walks away.

"He's into you. See that sashay? Total bottom," he says as he picks up his burger.

"Would you stop already?" I ask, picking up one of my fries, suddenly feeling less hungry than I thought I was.

"So?" he asks from behind his burger, yet to take a bite.

"So, what?" I ask as I nibble on a fry.

"Will I ever get an answer?"

"I think that we should leave it at neither of us knowing what the other is. I'm happy enough with that."

"I prefer to bottom. You're turn." He smirks before he bites into his burger. I narrow my eyes, glaring at him. He sips his water, wearing an expectant expression as he swallows his food. Towards my annoyed silence, he rolls his eyes, adding, "oh, come on. It's practically, gay 101. It comes up almost as often as asking about someone's name."

"I haven't given it much thought." I reach for a bottle of ketchup. He wears a look of perhaps mild disbelief. "Honestly, I haven't."

"Well, you might want to think about that," he says as his eyes seem to catch something of interest walking in through the front door behind me—deja vu. He smiles and winks to whoever it is that enters, and I find myself in the all too familiar position of not wanting to turn around. In a low voice, he adds, "because I think were about to have a couple of tops for company."

"Hey, I think we've met at the gym," says a deep voice, coming from behind me. I suppress a groan as Jordan smiles and turns his attention to the owner of the voice.