Page 186 of Just for the Cameras
His lips twist to the side. “I know this is going to sound really fucking ridiculous, but do you know how jealous that makes me feel?”
A laugh overtakes me that I can’t seem to pull back because it is ridiculous, but I can also see it being so true.
“Do you really want to laugh at me?” he asks. “I have no problem throwing that chair of yours.”
I cling to it, gripping the armrests. “Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He gives me a pointed look, and I chuckle some more.
“I didn’t know you liked tofu,” I say as I fill my fork with more mango rice and a slice of tofu.
“I don’t,” he says, his body shivering after taking a bite.
“Wait, you don’t?”
He shakes his head.
“Then why are you eating it?”
“Because I wasn’t about to eat a huge slab of meat in front of you when I could choose something that would make you less uncomfortable.”
I set my fork down in awe as I turn toward him. We are now out in the bay, far away from the city, so we can only hear the subtle sound of the waves lapping around us. The sun is setting, and it’s one of the most beautiful nights I’ve ever experienced here in San Francisco, with the orange and pink hues hugging the sky.
“Graydon, you can eat meat in front of me. You have before.”
“I wasn’t dating you then.”
“I understand that, but you can still eat meat in front of me. Don’t torture yourself with something you don’t like just because I don’t eat meat.”
“What am I going to do, gnaw at a dead carcass in front of you?” He shakes his head. “Doesn’t feel right.”
I place my hand on his forearm. “Well, you don’t gnaw on dead carcasses, first of all, and second of all, that’s really considerate, Graydon. Seriously. But please, I’ll feel guilty if you stop eating meat just because of me. This is a personal choice, not something I push upon others.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
He lets out a sigh and leans back in his chair. “Thank fuck, because the texture of this tofu will live with me forever.”
I chuckle. “Really? I think it’s delicious.”
He shakes his head. “Like curdled cheese.”
“Oh my God, it so isn’t.”
“It is,” he counters just as Sam walks up to our table.
“How is everything?”
Before Graydon can answer, I step in and say, “Do you happen to have any sort of real meat on board for Graydon? He tried to be sweet and eat the tofu for me, but he’s not feeling it.”
Sam smiles. “Of course. We have a few filets. Shall we cook one up for you?”
Graydon glances at me, and I nod. “Yeah, that would be great.”
“How would you like it cooked?”
“Medium,” he answers.
