Page 59 of It's a Date (Again)

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Tyler lifts his hand to protest. “Put them on my tab,” he says to the server.

“Nope, I got it,” Robbie insists. He sits up a little taller in his seat and puffs out his chest. I don’t know if he even realized he did it.

“All right, fine. I’ve got the next one then,” Tyler says.

I glance at my plate and then briefly at Tyler. Do I eat or wait for his food to arrive? My stomach rumbles again. Robbie’s eyes land on me.

“Go ahead and eat.” Tyler gestures to my food.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Robbie bites into his cheeseburger.

I dunk a fry in the ketchup and toss it in my mouth. It doesn’t have the crunch like Nash’s double-fried french fries.

“Robbie, what do you do for work?” Tyler asks.

He chews slowly before answering. “I’m an actuary.”

He raises a brow. “Not sure what that is.”

“I analyze financial costs based on risk and uncertainty. It’s not super exciting but it pays well.”

Tyler doesn’t say anything and just nods instead.

I bite into the chicken dip. Mayo and au jus drip from the other end of the sandwich, landing on my plate. It’s savory and juicy. The server returns, setting two beers on the table and a Wrightwood salad in front of Tyler. She collects the empty beer glasses, asks how everything is tasting, and walks away. Robbie holds up his glass.

“Cheers to finding love,” he says.

Tyler clinks his against Robbie’s, glances at me with a smile, and they both drink.

“I almost ordered that,” I say, pointing at Tyler’s salad.

He pushes his plate toward me. “Do you want some?”

I shake my head. “Oh no, I’m good.”

“I hear you two have an official date tomorrow?” Robbie points a finger at each of us, and then grabs several french fries, tossing them in his mouth.

Tyler swivels his head toward me and grins. “That’s right. I’m taking Peyton axe throwing.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Robbie says.

“That’s exactly what I’d expect an actuary to say.” Tyler laughs.

Robbie seems to almost force a chuckle. “Good one,” he says, chugging the rest of his beer. He sets it down on the table with force, causing the empty glass to echo.

“Axe throwing with a head injury doesn’t seem like a very smart date idea to me.” Robbie cocks his head.

“We’ve done it before.” Tyler looks to me for approval.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I reassure him. “It’s not like we’re throwing them at each other, right?”

“That’s right.” He nods and shovels a forkful of salad into his mouth.

Robbie looks to Tyler and then me like he’s thinking of what to say. “I’m gonna hit the bathroom.” He slides out of his seat and makes his way toward the back of the restaurant.

“Sorry about all this,” I say.

“It’s fine. I can handle an overprotective friend.” Tyler bumps his shoulder into mine and takes another bite of his salad.