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Holtzbert prompt: "Wait, is this a date?" "Yes. This is our third date"

When Holtzmann returns to the table, she finds Erin’s face as red as her hair. She stands for a moment and analyzes the scene: the food is still hot, the drinks are still full, and the candle is still flickering–the only difference is that now Erin holds her cellphone in one hand. The phone is the source of Erin’s dissonance, she realizes, so she takes a seat, steeples her fingers, and leans forward.

“Ha’penny for your thoughts?”

“Holtzmann, is this…” Erin swallows and clears her throat. “Is this a date?”

Holtz looks at the candles. She looks at the glasses of wine. She looks at her own semi-formal attire. And then she laughs. “Uh, Gilbert, this is our third date.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I took you to that play you wanted to see a few weeks ago, and then you organized that picnic–”

“As a thank you!”

“–and then I invited you over for dinner.”

“I didn’t… I feel like an idiot.”

For a moment, Holtz does, too. “Look, no hard feelings, okay?” Holtz shoots her some finger guns and gestures to the meal. “It’s free food, and we’re friends. So, eat up and go home–just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Too late.” Erin holds up her phone, and Holtz reads the text from Abby: hows tha hott date?

Holtz snorts. “For a scientist, her spelling really leaves a lot to be desired–”

“You’re changing the subject because you’re uncomfortable.” Erin looks down at her plate. “I made this uncomfortable.”

“No, I just–I should have been clear. Next time I ask you on a date, I’ll be sure to say ‘Dr. Erin Gilbert, will you go out to dinner with me on a romantic date where I might try to kiss you at the end of the evening?’ It’ll be real classy.”

“Next time?”

Holtz deflates. “Sorry. I won’t do this again. I get the message, loud and clear. You might as well be Paul Revere, but instead of the British, it’s like the straights are coming–”

“You need to stop talking sometimes.” Erin laughs, and Holtz wonders if the whole night hasn’t been ruined. “A few seconds earlier than you do.”

“Sorry.”

“To be honest, I didn’t think you were honestly into me.”

“The flirting wasn’t a clue?”

“I thought… Don’t laugh at me.” Erin waits until Holtz solemnly swears she’s up to no good. “People don’t hit on me. At least not for real. Do you know how many times in high school I got asked out as a joke?”

“One?”

“No.”

“Two?”

“No.”

Holtz frowns and tries again, “One?”

“Too many times, Holtzmann. It sorta killed my self-esteem–and my belief that any come on is for real.”

“Oh, come on,” Holtz replies, grinning. “I wouldn’t fuck with you. I’d fuck you–”

“Holtzmann!”

“Just being honest. I’m your friend before anything else, Erin. Trust me.”