I see him staring across the room and I resist the urge to turn and look behind me. I look down at the drink in my glass instead, and then turn my head to glance at the imaginary interesting thing across the room. Casually, like a cat intent on a mouse, I turn my head back. When I reach the line that is connecting me to the other side of the room, his focus is still directly on me. I look appraisingly for a long moment. I can keep my mouth neutral, but I know my eyes always betray me. I look back down at my glass, but I can feel him moving, fumbling with the chair, straightening his clothes, picking safe spots for his feet, deciding what foolish line he will try when he gets here. He sits without speaking and I look up, momentarily taken aback.
“Oh, was this seat taken?” He smiles confidently, leaning a bit backward in his chair.
I pretend to be deciding, but he sees that I’ve already decided. I give him my best enigmatic smile,
“Evidently” That’s all he’s getting from me for now.
We listen, we pose, we breath the moment in deeply. This is the best part, and we don’t want to rush anything. The next line is critical. He shifts his body closer.
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Damn, I though somebody would take the bait on that one.
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