“Hey sweetie. A bunch of us are going dancing tonight. You game?” I glanced over at my boyfriend, back to me as he bent over the stove.
“I’ve got a hot date tonight. Sorry.” I heard him chuckling quietly from across the room.
“Oh, tell me all about it tomorrow?” She sounded hopeful.
“You know I won’t.”
“Such a disappointment,” she lamented.
“Get off the phone with me and let all those hot guys at the bar buy you drinks, ok? I’ll talk to you later.”
“Who says they’re not already buying me drinks?” she laughed. “Later girl!” I returned the phone to its cradle, shaking my head, and leaned back against the counter.
“So…‘hot date’ like I’m hot, or this date is gonna be hot?”
“‘Hot date’ like the food’s gonna be hot when it comes off the stove.”
“Ouch. You’re ruthless,” he teased. “So ruthless.”
“Oh, don’t even. You know I love you…most of the time.”
“Sweetie, you’re killin’ me here. Can’t a guy catch a break? Especially one who’s cooking you dinner?” I pretended to give the idea serious thought.
“No, not really. Gotta have standards. You know how it is, right?” I teased, grinning.