Lie.

You swiftly scrap the text. Diane could be drunk, and that would ruin your date. Thankfully there's another update that hit about the same time-- a post on social media.

"Probably just someone sharing cat pictures," you say. "You can check on it later right?"

"Yeah, I guess so. But I was expecting Diane to check in with me soon... Maybe I should call her?"

"I'm sure she's fine," you say.

"Nah. Hand me the phone. I should just make sure."

You swallow back a lump in your throat. She might notice the message being missing if she looks closely. "Want me to do it?"

She looked down at her hands. "Oh... right. I guess that might be smart."

"How about: 'Giving a killer tit fuck. How you holding out?'"

"Haha... no. Just ask her if she's OK? If I'm lucky, she's on her way out of here."

"Oh? You looking forward to leaving yourself?"

She gives you a coy look. "Maaaybe. I mean you did come clean about your little magic trick. I'm still not sure I want to have sex with someone I don't trust..."

"Oh come on," you say. "I told you about the notebook."

"But I practically had to twist your arm to do it."

Annoying. The circumstances surrounding the notebook doesn't unconditionally get you action, that's for sure. You have a hard time hiding your disappointment.