When Claire finally reappears, Jake couldn't help but gawk at the sight of her.
"Did you do something in the ladies' room? You look even lovelier."
This time, despite her own misgivings, Claire blushes. "Thank you," she says. "But flattery doesn't work on me."
"It's true," he insists. "You're utterly hot."
"Oh, stop it."
Claire stares at her food, as though finding something strange.
"What is it?" Jake gulps. Did she notice?
"Uhh, my salad," she says. "Did anyone touch it?"
Jake fake-laughs. "Oh, no, no. I'd never let anyone touch that. I was just here. Not even the waiter came."
Claire looks at him. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
She tentatively stabs her salad with a fork, and tries a lettuce. "Too much oil," she says. She smiles. "But tastes fine."
Jake breathes a sigh of relief. He eyes Claire's glass of wine, as though fearing it would start talking about what he did.
"I'd like to know," Claire says, "what really made you to ask me out?"
