Maybe I read this wrong. I’m lonely, and I’m sad about Amy, and this girl is really fucking gorgeous. I’m totally reading too much into this. She doesn’t want me. I sigh. “Let me get the check. I’ll see you to the elevator at least, make sure Chad McYachtclub doesn’t follow.” As I reach for my wallet, she puts her hand on my arm. I go still. Like, I’m frozen solid. Just build me a marble plinth and ship me to a museum. “I believe in signs,” she murmurs, her gaze lowering to focus on our shared point of connection.
