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Inside, I take a moment to splash on a little cologne before I grab some burgers and buns from the fridge.
Not a date, not a date, not a date… but maybe kind of a little bit like a date?
Just play it cool and see where it goes, I tell myself and head outside to light up the grill.
I’ve just put the burger patties on when I hear Blaze’s back door slide open. I turn to see her step out, holding a large salad bowl in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other.
She’s changed out of the blue dress she wore for work into a sundress, a short, sleeveless thing in some kind of floaty fabric, mostly light green with dainty little flowers all over it. She’s swept her pretty blond hair up into one of those casual-but-elegant buns that women know how to do, and if I’m not mistaken, she’s freshened up her makeup in the last few minutes.
She’s kicked off her shoes, and there’s something undeniably sexy about her bare feet, especially her toes, which are a perfectly painted shade of pale green. She looks like early summer personified, colorful, casual, and relaxed.
She no longer reminds me of Christine. In fact, I’m not sure how I could ever have put them on the same page. Sure, they both like nice clothes and makeup, but that’s where the resemblance ends. Blaze’s look is softer, and it suits her better. And however aggravating I may have found her the first time we met, I respect that she’s a straight shooter. Christine was more the passive-aggressive type.
Looking back, I feel like Christine was always trying a little too hard. There was an edge to everything she did, like she had something to prove. Blaze’s velvety skin, curvy figure, and lush blond hair all have their appeal, but they wouldn’t be half as enticing if she didn’t have a confidence in herself that Christine lacked.
“You look very nice.” I try to sound casual. Just one neighbor saying something pleasant to another.
Her cheeks flush faintly. “Thanks. Brought some dessert too. Mind if I put this in the freezer?” She lifts up the ice cream.
“Go right on in. Help yourself to a beer from the fridge if you want one.”
She’s back a moment later, having replaced the ice cream with a bottle of beer. “That’s a remarkable lack of furniture you have there,” she observes.
“Uh, yeah. I guess you could say I’m going through kind of a minimalist phase.”
“Ah,” she replies. She opens her beer and takes a sip, and we stare at each other.
I grope for something to talk about. “So, your friend Bailey, she’s the one you’re having a bachelorette party for?”
I’m dying to ask if the Jezebel’s Cavern gift really was for her, but I’m smart enough not to bring it up.
“Yes.” Blaze looks as relieved as I feel to have found a topic of conversation. “Same friend. We were out shopping for dresses just the other day.”
“Ah. Fun—You know, if you’re into that kind of thing,” I add with a smile.
She crooks a smile back at me. “Shopping or weddings?”
A memory of Christine flipping through wedding magazines rises in my mind but it doesn’t sting the way it normally would. “Either or.” I flip a burger.
“Hm.” She tilts her head to study me. “You don’t strike me as the shopping type. Guessing you’re not the wedding type, either.”
That actually does sting a little, though it’s not Blaze’s fault. “What, guys can’t be into weddings?” I glance over my shoulder at her, keeping my tone light.
“Seems like most aren’t.” She laughs. “Though to be fair, I don’t think Bailey is all that into the wedding part. She’s getting married in August, and she only just got her dress.”
“It’s still June. How early do you have to buy a dress?”
“Usually, you order it a lot earlier. You know, for fittings and—” She waves her hand. “Stuff you’re probably not interested in.”
I take a slow sip of my beer. No, I was never all that interested in the details of our wedding. It was fun to listen to Christine chatter over dresses and cakes and venues, but I was more looking forward to being married than getting married.
Fortunately, she hadn’t started spending money in earnest on the wedding by the time I found out about everything.
“I was engaged once,” I say. “For a little while.”
The words slip out before I’ve fully thought them through and mentally, I kick myself. I haven’t mentioned Christine or our disastrous relationship to anyone else in Welkins Ridge, and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t make for a great first-date story.
Not that this is a date, I remind myself again.
