Free The World: According to Rachael by Layne Harper

me to continue. “I love shoes …” I trail off giving him a sheepish grin.
    He crosses his arms over his thick chest. “Not good enough. I’ll ask the questions.”
    I prepare myself mentally, as if this is another interview with Barbara Walters. Pep talk: Rachael, you can do this. You have to let this guy in if you think you like him .
    “Would you rather have a fancy dinner with wine and champagne, or go to a hole-in-the-wall bar and drink beer?”
    I consider his question. I like nice dinners, but I don’t know if a teacher’s salary can afford them. I don’t want to put pressure on him, making him think that he has to spend money to date me. Date me? So I answer, “I like crawfish boils or barbecue. I like trying new and unique types of food. I’m not picky. It’s more about the company that I’m with rather than what or where we’re eating.” I don’t add that most of my meals are calculated social exercises to achieve a certain goal. I rarely eat for pleasure.
    Graham’s eyes, I’m learning, are truly the windows to his soul. Without him saying a word, they light up. I must have said the right thing. “I like that answer, and I agree.”
    He takes a sip of his drink and asks, “Favorite movie not starring Steve Martin?”
    “Not sure. I like horror. Next,” I prompt.
    Fortunately, our food arrives, but I can tell by the look on Graham’s face that the waitress did not save me. However, she did buy me a few moments to think what my favorite movies are. I usually respond with All the President’s Men or Forest Gump . Both are respectable movies that aren’t controversial. However, as I watch the waitress unload her tray of food on to our table, I question what my favorite movies really are. I love anything with Steve Martin, but if I were to Netflix a movie to watch by myself, what would I choose? The answer “I don’t know” scares me more than I wish to dwell on.
    “This smells divine.” I begin to prepare my burger patty by using my knife to smear the mayonnaise on the meat. I peek up through my lashes and catch Graham watching me with a crinkled forehead.
    “What?” I ask defensively.
    “Nothing,” he says as he removes the tomato and adds extra pickles to his.
    “No. What?” I demand, a bit thankful that the twenty questions directed my way seem to be forgotten for the moment.
    He shakes his head and laughs as he uses his knife to cut his burger into two equal parts. “I’m just surprised that people eat mayo. That’s all.”
    “What do you have against mayonnaise?” I ask just before I place my first forkful of burger patty in my mouth.
    “Besides the fact that it smells like feet, and it tastes like the ass end of a rhino?” His eyebrow cocks up as he responds. There’s that damn dimple again.
    I lick a drop of mayo off my finger, sucking as it exits my mouth. My eyes drift towards the ceiling. A soft moan escapes my lips. In my best Marilyn Monroe voice, I say, “I’ve never tasted a rhino’s behind, but this mayo sure is tasty.”
    Graham’s clear blue eyes cloud with what I think is lust. He leans forward placing his elbows on the table. In a deeper voice, “When you put it that way, maybe I could become a fan of mayonnaise.”
    He leans back and takes a mouthful of his burger, and I chuckle as I grab an onion ring and take a bite. They’re as good as he promised. “Your turn.” I offer him the rest of my ring.
    I almost choke on my bite of burger when he takes the ring from my hand, dips it in ketchup and then uses his long tongue to lick the sauce off. When he’s finished, he smiles. “Best damn onion rings in D.C.”
    “I’ll say,” I reply as I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
    The physical attraction between us is obvious to a blind man, but what amazes me is how comfortable I feel with him. Our bodies are buzzing with sexual tension yet we’re able to discuss movies and music like best friends catching up over lunch. I don’t think even with Aiden