“Not at all,” I said. I usually preferred to work alone and undisturbed, but I would’ve rather gotten nothing done that day while talking to Anna than plow through all of the code reviews that I’d planned on doing.
“How’d you sleep last night?” I asked, moving my stuff from the seat next to me so that she could sit down.
“Like a log. I was so jet-lagged. It’s only a three-hour difference, but I was so tired. Still am.” She jumped into the high chair, her ponytail swishing back and forth, bouncy and energetic and in direct contradiction to her words.
“Well, you look like you got you enough beauty sleep.” I winked, feeling slightly cheesy...but hey, my wooing her had to start somewhere, and girls liked cheese, right?
She rolled her eyes and said, “Uh huh. So listen, I wanted to run an idea by you. About the playlist last night.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
She opened up her laptop and handed me an earphone, then walked me through her rearrangement of the tracks, given her idea for the playlist theme and title, Second Impressions. The first few tracks were old classics from the 70s and 80s, followed by some newer songs that had sampled or referenced lyrics or sounds from the first few. But the newer songs sounded entirely different, evoking seduction instead of joy, or dreaminess instead of funkiness. The samples were stretched, sped up, cut, or modified—still recognizable to the discerning ear, but used in completely unique ways.
“That’s really thoughtful and insightful of you. I wouldn’t have even caught those samples if you hadn’t pointed them out.”
“Thanks! That’s what I’m going for.” She sipped her coffee, smiling slightly into her mug, then added, “I wanted to thank you for letting me bounce some ideas off of you last night. It really helped to talk it through with you.”
“Of course, anytime. Do I get a mention in your blog post?” I joked.
“Mmm, I’ll think about it.” Eyes playful, she turned to her laptop and began typing.
I turned to my own laptop and stared at the code on the screen, scanning for any potential issues. Occasionally, I looked up at Anna and caught her frowning or rubbing her smooth, supple neck in thought. As a result, I frequently found myself reviewing the same section of code two or three times. At one point, we both looked up and locked eyes.
“What are you working on?” she asked, quickly shifting her gaze back down to her screen.
“Code reviews.” I turned the laptop around so that she could see the brightly colored lines of code. “Making sure my team’s code quality is up to snuff.” I spun it back around to face me and frowned as the text blurred together slightly. Staring at a screen all day sucked.
“Do you have to review everyone’s code?”
“Not everyone’s, just the most important pieces.” I sighed. “It’s pretty boring right now, though.” As usual. I popped the last of the forgotten croissant into my mouth.
Anna’s eyes widened when her stomach rumbled in response. She slowly placed a hand on her belly, her face sheepish.
“Uh...do you want to grab lunch?” I asked, suppressing a smile and closing my laptop.
“Yeah, that might be a good idea. What do you want to eat?” She gently shut her laptop, too.
I considered. What was in the area? Ah! “How do you feel about Ethiopian?”
“I’ve actually never had it before.”
I rubbed my hands together. “Oh, then we’re popping that cherry, right now.”
She smiled and rolled her eyes yet again. “Sure, whatever.”
◆◆◆
We put our stuff away in our rooms, then walked to the Ethiopian place that was four blocks away. It was one of my favorite restaurants, and I was glad to have an excuse to stop by during that trip. There was just something so carnally satisfying about eating with your hands and using the sourdough injera to mop up the delicious, spicy juices from the stewed meat and vegetables. Anna was in for a treat.
The waitress seated us at the last available table, then brusquely handed us menus to look at. Ethiopian jazz played in the background, and the air was heavy with the scent of meat, butter, and berbere. My mouth watered—I was in for a treat.
After a minute of browsing, Anna deferred to me, putting down her menu and craning her head to look at the colorful arrays of dishes on the other tables. I hadn’t even glanced at the menu, having already planned on ordering my two favorites, the kitfo and the veggie combo.
“I can’t believe you’ve never had Ethiopian food. You’re going to love it.” I rubbed my hands together, excited to see her reaction to one of my favorite cuisines.
“I hope so. I don’t get to eat out much.” She sipped her water.
“In New York? That’s like half of what there is to do there.”
“Yeah, but I mostly eat the same things. A lot of pizza. I once challenged myself to try every pizza joint in New York.”
“How far did you get?”
She scrunched up her face in thought. “Mmmm, over 40? Then I lost count.”
“Wow. That’s pretty impressive that you even got that far. What’s your favorite place?”
“I have several favorite places. But what I realized throughout my pizza journey is that I like Sicilian pizza the best. No matter where it’s from, if they make Sicilian, it’s good.”
I laughed at the image of her going on a pizza journey, then filed away that tidbit about Sicilian being her favorite. No doubt it would help in my conquest.
We discussed the merits of various pizza places and how New York pizza differed from anywhere else’s pizza (it’s got to be the water!) until our Ethiopian feast arrived.
Anna’s eyes went wide at the huge platter of food. “Uhhh, I hope you’re going to eat most of this. I have a really tight dress that I need to be able to fit into
