"Yeah, um, okay. Do you need a ride to your car?"
"Nah, we aren't far from my place. I can just walk and catch a cab to my car later."
"No, I don't mind. Really! Just let me just get dressed," she says, just as awkwardly as I feel.
"Seriously, Danika, I can just walk. It's no big-"
"Sarah," she looks down at her feet while playing with the ends of her freshly showered hair.
"What?"
"Shit. My name. It’s Sarah." She looks embarrassed and continues to avoid my eyes.
"Sarah? Really?"
"Yeah, Danika is the fake name I use when we go out. It's just something silly the three of us do. I'm horrible at keeping up with it. It always fails. Manda or Casey yells my real name across the bar, completely blowing my cover."
"I'm guessing I know Manda and Casey better as Regina and Anastasia?"
"Yep, that would be them. They picked club names from their favorite TV shows. I tried to use Blanche Devereaux for a while, but you would be surprised by the alarming number of men who watch Golden Girls. After that, I switched to my favorite future baby’s name, Danika."
"Um okay... Sarah." I purposely over-enunciate her name, pretending to be testing it on my tongue. "I'm going to head out. I'm glad you're feeling better. You should probably take some Ibuprofen and drink a gallon of water. I'm pretty sure there is nothing left in your body from yesterday." I look around, trying to remember where I took my boots off.
"Wow, you're tall," I hear the familiar phrase from behind me.
"So you’ve mentioned."
"No, I mean you are really tall!"
"Yep, you may have said that too." I raise my eyebrows, slightly annoyed at how such an awesome night turned into such an awkward morning.
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be a bitch, I swear. I'm just not sure what to do in this situation." She steps towards me trying to apologize.
I sigh, stretching and scratch the back of my head, "How about you try introducing yourself with your real name, then make me a delicious breakfast, and point me towards your coffee maker." I smirk at her.
She pauses for a second before offering a heart-stopping smile of her own, "Hi, my name is Sarah and there is no way in hell I am cooking you breakfast. I will, however, allow you to buy me some greasy food at the corner diner. And if you are desperate for coffee, I believe there is some decaf in the kitchen. I drink it when I need something warm in the horrible winters y'all have up here."
"I accept your offer beautiful Sarah, for me to um...how did you so eloquently put it... buy you some greasy food? But I really need to ask you a few things first. One: What the hell is the point in drinking decaf? Two: Where exactly are you from that causes you to say y'all every other sentence? And most importantly, why in God's name, would you want to name a baby Danika?" I mock in horror, then smile giving it every ounce of charm I have to offer.
"Oh, because Hephzibah is so much better?" she snarks over her shoulder as she walks into her closet, presumably to get dressed.
I grab my heart feigning injury, "Touché Sarah, touché."
And just like that I start to think that maybe I was wrong, and it's not too soon to fall in love this fascinating woman after all.
Brett
"OKAY, EXPLAIN this to me one more time," I ask Sarah while we sit in a candy cane striped booth, in a dive restaurant a few doors down from her apartment.
Sarah gives me a long suffering sigh before repeating, "They put the bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches together wrong. So I order a fried egg, two pieces of toast, four slices of bacon, and two pieces of cheese to make my own."
I lean forward intrigued, "It's bacon, egg, and cheese on toast. How can anyone possibly make that wrong?"
"The proper way to make it is: bread, cheese, bacon, egg in the center, then bacon, cheese, and bread. It gives you the perfect bacon to egg ratio. When they make it for you, they stiff you on the bacon and the cheese. And then, it's really nothing more than an egg sandwich flavored with bacon and cheese."
"I don't think I have ever had a conversation where the word bacon was used more," I laugh at her.
"You obviously don't have very intelligent friends then. I've had an entire conversation with Manda about why bacon is superior to all other meats. I'm passionate about the things I love, and that includes bacon."
"How are you not fat?"
"Good genes. Oh, and stripping every Friday night really helps me burn off the calories, too," she says nonchalantly, taking a sip of her Mr. Pibb.
I try to cover my shock but obviously fail as I shout, "What?" loud enough to make all the other customers turn to look. She dies laughing, falling over onto the bench seat.
"Wow. That was wrong." I pretend to be annoyed.
"No, that was hilarious. Oh my God, your face was priceless." She continues to laugh until the waitress shows up with our food.
"You sure you're feeling okay after puking all night?" I ask purposely as she lifts her first bite to her mouth.