His hands dropped like I'd burned him. He stepped back, putting distance between us.

"Go back to the table," he said.

"What about you?"

"I'll be there in a minute."

I should've left. Should've walked out and never looked back.

Instead, I looked at him one more time.

He was gripping the edge of the sink, head down, shoulders tight.

And I could see it. The bulge in his pants. The evidence that he wanted this just as much as I did, no matter how much he pretended otherwise.

I left him there.

---

When I got back to the table, my mom looked up with a smile.

"Everything okay?"...