“So, what is your type of man?” he asks curiously, focusing on me instead of his food. I give him a dark look, indicating that we are done with this topic.

My type? Far, far, away from me.

“Okay, okay. Are you going home to visit your mom anytime soon?” he asks, pushing in a new direction instead, but I drop my fork, mood dying and temper punching me in the stomach.

For God’s sake.

“This again?” I snap and shake my head at him, irritated, being too sharp ...