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By the time our plates are cleared, I'm exhausted from trying to convince myself I'm having a better time than I am.

“Would you like dessert?” Adam asks, picking up the menu.

I glance at the chocolate cake listed at the bottom.

Normally, I'd be all over that.

“Maybe we could share something?” he suggests.

“Sure.”

The answer comes out automatically.

A second later, I realize I don't particularly want dessert. I just don't want to disappoint him by saying no.

We order the chocolate cake, and when it arrives, he pushes the plate toward me.

“Ladies first.”

I take a bite.

It's delicious.

“Good?” he asks.

“Really good.”

He takes a bite, too, and we spend another few minutes talking about restaurants we like. I tell him about a terrible sushi place Nadia once dragged me to, and he recommends somewhere near the beach.

“We should go sometime,” he says.

My fork stops halfway to my mouth.

There it is. The perfectly reasonable suggestion I should be happy to hear.

And my first instinct is to say yes.

Not because I want to go, but because Adam is looking at me expectantly, and saying yes would be so much easier than having an awkward conversation.

I put my fork down.

What the hell am I doing?

I've spent the entire evening trying to make him like me. Smiling when I'm supposed to, asking the right questions, pretending I'm not thinking about someone else.

And now I'm about to agree to another date because I don't want to hurt his feelings? No.

“Adam…”

He looks at me, and something in his expression changes.

“Uh-oh.”

I wince. “I'm sorry.”

“That's usually not a great start to a sentence.”

“No, I know.” I take a breath. “I've had a really nice time tonight. I mean that.”