I told him about my current efforts, and though my thoughts were still muddled, I managed to give him a pretty decent synopsis. It was basically the story of a blind man and his relationship with his estranged father, who was dying and wanted to donate his eyes to his wayward son. As I explained everything in spurts, Davinder listened without interrupting.
“It’s just in the gestation stage,” I said, a little embarrassed by my own enthusiasm. “I might change it.”
“You’ve got a good idea there.”
“Yeah, you really think so?”
“Yes, Allan,” he whispered, his words coming sweet and slow. “I really think so.”
I suspected we were talking about much more than this book. “It’s not fair,” I said, making sure I sounded as cute as I possibly could. “I told you about my book, and I haven’t even seen your drawings.”
Silence, and then, “I can’t tonight.”
I wanted to crawl under the couch. Had I flirted with him too openly? Had I come on too strong? “Of course, I didn’t mean tonight.”