“Yeah! You’d think—I mean I looked at one of those manners books in the library once, but it didn’t answer anything important and then there’s so much shit that seems pointless. Why do you need to know all that stuff about silverware? Who cares if you wear a hat inside or wear white shoes after… whenever? Who is that even written for, do people really remember all that?”
He brushes his hand over the bark of a tree as he passes it. Maybe Michael doesn’t have to worry about how weird he is around Wolfgang. Maybe they’re friends now. But this still might be a date, and friends don’t go on dates. If this is a date (and he’s getting more and more suspicious that it is one), he has no idea what they are to each other or what he’s doing, or should be doing. Talk about needing a guidebook.