Well, that’s a relief, but… “I appreciate that,” I say. “But I’d also like to be friends. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, and—” “No,” he says, brusque again, and now it’s starting to annoy me. “What?” “No. I don’t want to be friends. I don’t want to play get-to-know-you niceties. I know your type, and I’m not interested.” “My type?”
