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They were sitting in a pub, sipping their respective drinks and making small talk while sharing a bowl of chips, when Dempsey decided to just do it. Carpe diem, and all that crap. She could only say no, right? He straightened a little in his chair and took a breath. "So, I was wondering. . ." No, that wasn't the way to do it. He needed something better than that. Hell, she deserved something better than that.
Harry popped a chip in her mouth and looked at him curiously. "You were wondering about what?"
He shook his head. Why was he so nervous? He'd done this before, loads of times. Had a pretty good success rate, too. But here he was, and damned if his palms weren't sweating and his mouth wasn't dry. He took a mouthful of his beer and tried again. "The thing is . . ." Nope, not it either.
She was looking at him now with a small frown of concern on her face. "Is everything okay?"
He brushed off her concern with a sarcastic Dwayne inspired drawl, "Everything's just dandy, honey." Except it wasn't, because he seemed to have regressed to an awkward bumbling fool who couldn't manage to string a coherent sentence together.
"Have you had a stroke or do you have something on your mind?"
He ignored her mocking attempt at humour – he probably deserved it after bringing Dwayne to the table – and shifted awkwardly in his chair. "Yeah, there is something that's been on my mind lately. I've been wanting to talk to you about it but, it ain't easy, you know?"
Harry wiped her fingers on a napkin and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "If you're trying to say what I think you're trying to say, let me just save you the trouble and say yes."
He barely heard her. "Yeah, yeah. You know, sometimes, Harry, things change and . . ." And... what? He came up empty handed. Empty mouthed? He could not figure out how to finish that sentence, so he shook it off and tried again.
"I've been thinking about things lately . . .about me and you, and how we get along. . ."
"Yes."
"This isn't easy, you know," he said with frustration.
"Apparently not. But I am trying to help you out."
Maybe straight to the point would work for him. Harry appreciated that. She hated people who talked in circles. "We've been getting closer lately, and that's been, well, nice, and I think we both . . ."
"Si."
Dempsey barrelled on. "I'm trying to ask you, in a round-a-bout kind of way, if you would maybe like to . . ."
"Ja."
"Listen, Harry, just give me a minute. I'll get there."
"Dempsey, you listen. I'm saying yes."
He looked at her in surprise. "You're saying yes?"
"Uh huh," she nodded, clearly amused at his discomfort and making absolutely no effort at all to hide it.
"You know I'm trying to ask you out?" he clarified.
"Oui."
"On a date?"
"Yes, I get it."
"Just you and me. Dinner or dancing, maybe a show? With a prelude to further intimacy, of the, ah, physical kind?"
"Understood. Yes."
He threw up his hands in mock exasperation. "Then why didn't you say something instead of messing around and speaking in tongues?"
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