I'd Love It If We Made It

FOUR

Steve's arm begins to gently push me towards the booth. I know I shouldn't follow him. I know I have no desire to sit at this table with him. I was going to have to have a serious chat with Stan about interfering with my life like this. He obviously collaborated with Steve on this plan to get me here, I'm still not sure why though. I'm not entirely sure I even want to know, but I was having way too much fun getting my retribution with this conversation now than to let it stop.

"Nope." I exhale overdramatically, plopping down into the booth in an inelegant fashion. "The bastard got off Scott-free."

Steve slides in the seat across from me, giving me an annoyed look as the hostess places two menus on the table.

"Isn't that just always how it goes." She says, shaking her head sympathetically.

"Totally." I nod in agreement.

Before the conversation can go any further Steve bursts out into what he and I both know is an entirely fake coughing fit.

"Could we get some water?" He asks through more interspersed coughs.

The hostess scurries off to find him a glass for water, leaving us momentarily alone. Once she's out of ear shot Steve's cough magically ceases.

"Was that really necesarry?" He mutters, arching one of his eyebrows.

"No, but it was fun." I smile back at him.

"I think we need to find you a new definition of fun." He scoffs, shaking his head with a slight scowl.

The hostess reappears with two glasses of water. She tells us that our server will be over soon, Steve thanks her, then she whisks off back towards her podium where a family is now standing waiting to be seated.

"So Cap, what did you do to Stan?" I ask, reaching towards the water and spinning the glass in my hand.

"It's Steve," he corrects. "and I didn't do anything to Stan. He took the night off of work to go play bingo with Darlene on the Upper East Side."

Darlene is Stan's wife, which I've known for years, but it's odd hearing the name fall so casually from Steve's lips, like it's common knowledge. It's obvious to me now that the two of them had started some sort of friendship. I'm not sure what kind of friendship they could really have anyway. Stan struggled to understand how to use a cell phone and Steve was technically older than Stan was so he was probably even worse with technology than His partner in crime. Regardless, they were clearly close enough to be in kahoots behind my back, rearranging plans and manipulating me without me even knowing.

I still don't understand what the purpose of all of this is. I'd pretty much figured I wouldn't see Steve again after he left my apartment the other week. He'd apologized, I'd gotten out some much needed pent-up anger towards him, then eventually accepted his apology. End of story. Case closed. Only clearly, everything was not closed. Everything was still very much open, since Steve is sitting across from me where Stan was supposed to be sitting, looking at me with a relaxed expression on his face. I'm not so naive as to think he's here without purpose, I'm just apparently not observant enough to know what that purpose is.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him, bluntly.

Steve makes himself comfortable, leaning back against the booth and slinging his arm so it rests over the top of it.