Chapter 9

Butterflies

"I can't believe any guy on Earth can cook this good – especially not a bachelor who practically lives at work," Sara commented during dinner. She was sitting opposite him at the dinner table. "It's surprising."

Gil had to smile at this, "surprising, huh?" he asked, he had finished off half of the plate of pasta, but wasn't that interested in eating it. He felt it tasted strange without the ham that was a vital ingredient to the tagliatelle. He'd had to forgo putting it in for Sara's sake, although he felt it was somewhat worth it. At least she seemed to be enjoying it.

"It's kind of embarrassing, really," Sara admitted after a moment, "I mean here you are, you can actually cook a proper meal – without a microwave. Here I am, if I tried to fry an egg right now, it'd be cremated."

Gil chortled, "Well…some people have their weaknesses," he said, "obviously you were more interested in science at school than cooking an egg in home economics," he suggested.

"Probably true," Sara picked up her glass and quickly sipped her wine.

"I'll teach you, if you like," Gil offered.

"Teach me?" Sara asked.

"To cook," Gil said, "it's not that hard. If I can do it anyone can."

"Oh, great, now I'm getting cooking lessons as well as entomology lessons?" Sara smirked, but her comment was like a needle, that pricked him to remind him of what he'd said to Catherine.

Gil felt rather sheepish right then. "Y'know, it wasn't exactly a lie," he reminded, "We were standing talking about butterflies – that could be classed as a lesson."

"What are you going to say to Catherine anyway, if she asks you questions about why I was here?" Sara asked, she took another bite of her food. "I don't think she bought the entomology thing for one minute."

Gil looked down to the table for a moment, "y'know…I'm honestly not sure what I'll say. Catherine is…perceptive – to a terrifying degree. She probably had it figured out right off the bat."

"Probably," Sara said, she put her fork down slowly, she pushed her plate away, indicating she'd eaten enough.

Gil got up to remove the plates from the table, "I'm sorry my apartment still smells like bleach," he said after a moment, he immediately wished he hadn't – it seemed to make it all the more obvious he'd run out of things to say.

Damn it, I'm screwing this up so badly, he thought miserably, he took the plates to the garbage disposal to throw the remains of dinner away. I'm supposed to be logical, I shouldn't be having these problems. I'm almost fifty years old, by now I should have had enough experience dating to be able to sail through this whole thing without missing a beat.

But…I don't know, she gets near me, and suddenly I turn into this kid…inexperienced and bumbling, while she is handling this so well – considering how suddenly it all came about she's not nervous at all…not like me.

Gil paused, How did I become so nervous, anyway? I've had dates that have gone so easily compared to this. I've managed to get women into bed on the first date before – without feeling embarrassed or awkward. Why should this be any different?

Gil glanced across at Sara, Sara was sitting sipping her wine, her eyes roaming the apartment.

You know why this is different, you idiot, he told himself. Why do I ask myself these stupid questions. I already know the answers. It's simple. Sara means something to me, and every other woman I've ever dated hasn't ever welled up half the emotions in me that Sara can stir with giving me a single dose of those pretty brown eyes. This is the one relationship you do care about. Every other relationship meant nothing compared to this. One sudden impulse started this relationship, one wrong thing could end it.

Sara caught his staring and she smiled with a slight confusion, "is…something wrong?" she asked.

"No, nothing at all," he answered quickly as he looked away, he scraped the food into the garbage disposal.

This is turning into the worst date ever, he thought. You insist on having her over so you can play your little secrecy games, you make stupid conversation about bugs and try to steer clear of romance altogether, and you don't even have the sense to compliment how beautiful you think she looks tonight.

"You look like you're deep in thought," Sara got up, "are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," he assured, he turned to glance at her, "Sara…you look nice…" he said, although he said it in a very monotone way almost as if she had asked him how she looked, as if it were the answer to a question rather than a compliment.

Sara blinked, her expression spoke volumes, she seemed to be contemplating whether this was a compliment or not.

Gil winced, oh my god, just stop talking, you're making this worse!

"Thank you," Sara finally said, "but…y'know…" she gave a little laugh, "I didn't dress up so you don't have to pay me compliments…I don't even have makeup on."

"I noticed," Gil said, the admission almost sounded insulting from his lips, he winced again, "oh my god," he whispered, looking away.

"What is up with you? You look dismayed every time you open your mouth," Sara moved closer.

Gil filled the sink with warm soapy water, "listen," he said, he decided to use his supervisory persona for the situation, it was the best way he could deal with things without staggering over every word, "I am not good at this. Every time I open my mouth I know it's the wrong thing to say…I can't help it."

Sara raised an eyebrow, "are you my supervisor now, or my boyfriend?"

It was Gil's turn to blink. It had occurred to him that Sara and he were in a relationship now. However, the one thing that had not occurred to him was she might deem him her 'boyfriend'. The name somehow, didn't feel like it fitted right at all. For one thing, it was still the first date – and it seemed to be jumping the gun, and second of all, Gil felt he was a little old to be a boyfriend at all.

"Do we have to call it 'boyfriend'?" Gil asked stupidly.

Sara laughed nervously, "are…you getting cold feet or something? Changing your mind?" she asked worriedly.

"No…it's just…okay, don't think I'm crazy…but…" he placed the dishes into the water, "this…is the first date, right? So…right now we're just like testing the waters before diving in…"

"I guess you could say that," Sara confessed, she put her empty wine glass on the counter, she picked up the bottle and poured herself another glass.

"Well, anyway…calling me a boyfriend right now…I don't know, it feels maybe like jinxing it," he said. "Like we're getting ahead of ourselves?"

Sara paused, then looked at him sternly, "You just don't like the term 'boyfriend'."

"Not when it's describing who I am to you, no," Gil admitted sheepishly.

"What's wrong with 'boyfriend'?"

"I'm not a boy," Gil said, "When I think of boyfriends and girlfriends, I think of…teenagers, college kids…"

"So…what do you want me to call you? My partner? Makes it sound like we're cop-buddies wielding our guns, and side by side in the car during high speed chases," Sara chuckled.

Gil had to laugh at this too, she was right. "I…guess you're right," he said. "I don't know what I want to be called yet. Lets wait until…well…lets just wait…"

"You're still not comfortable with this, are you?" Sara asked, there was concern in her eyes.

Gil wanted to admit he wasn't completely comfortable with it at all, but he remained silent.

"Hey…it's okay to be uncomfortable," Sara took a sip of her wine, it seemed to give her a moment to pause and think before continuing. "I'm not comfortable either yet," she said.

"You're handling it a lot better than I am, Sara," Gil responded coolly, mentally he felt like one large potential emotional train wreck about to fly off the tracks at any given moment.

Sara scoffed, "tell that to the butterflies in my stomach."

Gil had to smile at that, and in his most timid voice, he murmured, "That's okay…I happen to like butterflies."