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No, I do not want to leave my house. Yes, inexplicably, I want to see Doliver again. Also, food. Food is a thing. Having an excuse to eat isn’t bad. Especially right now. It’s better than going back to bed, scrolling the internet for eight years, and waking up tomorrow afternoon in a bleary fog.
Heaving a sigh, I type out my reply.
Brittny: Sure!
Chapter 5
~~~~~~~~~~~~
crosses “practice dating” off the trope list
Steak ’N Shake.
Did I suggest Steak ’N Shake because I’m worried a celebrity will leave me with the bill?
Maybe. Maybe—after Noah—my trust issues do run that deep, or maybe, just maybe, I sincerely like their cheese fries, and when Doliver asked where I wanted to eat, said he’d meet me absolutely anywhere, and refused my oh, wherever you want is fine with me for the twelfth time, it was the only thing the chipmunk in my brain could wrap its head around.
Dusk has fallen by the time I step out of my car and into the parking lot outside the red-and-white building. This late, the atmosphere of the only twenty-four hour Steak ’N Shake around for a hundred miles carries with it an eerie pleasant air that I appreciate.
The too-bright lights leave a ghastly glow across the cracked pavement and bounce off the handful of cars in the lot. None of them look fancy enough to belong to an internet sensation, but I’m making mental bets on whether Doliver’s got the minivan or the Jeep as I hold my purse close and start across the asphalt.
“Sunshine?”
My heart hiccups.
Turning my attention toward the entrance, I find Doliver bathed in the fluorescent hue leaning against the concrete wall. Hands tucked neatly in his khaki cargo shorts, he offers a slight smile. “Hi.”
Breathier than expected, I echo the word back at him, clear my throat, and wonder if I’m about to have a stroke. My heart’s freaking out. Even with the cool spring breeze teasing my bangs, it’s too warm here. I force a smile. “I hope this is okay. Probably don’t take the girl you like someplace with sticky floors on a first date, though. It could look bad.”
“I don’t think she’d mind.” His attention skates down my blue and white summer dress. “You look nice. I hope I didn’t startle you out of your pajamas or anything.”
I cannot explain the way I scrambled out of my pajamas in a desperate effort to locate appropriate attire for a not-date. Therefore, I punt. “Don’t worry. I stay up late most nights.”
We’re going to ignore the fact I didn’t change out of my pajamas when I woke up this afternoon, though.
Biting his lower lip, he hums. “There’s something about it, isn’t there?”
“Something about what?”
He lifts his chin toward the sky. “The night.”
I look out at the expanse of stars, the sliver of the moon, and wish I were more like…Willow, perhaps. The night would suit her. For me, I stay up late as though my body and mind reject the concept of tomorrow. Tomorrow brings with it new worries and work. The calm in the darkness stems from an undertone of procrastination. “Yeah,” I murmur. “There’s something about it.” An absence of expectation. A quiet knowledge that it’s my time.
The bell on the door chimes as Doliver opens it, dragging my attention down to the vacant restaurant. He stands aside, a perfect gentleman, and I let the hollow feeling creeping into my chest slip away.
“Thank you.”
He nods, flushing slightly as I enter.
“Table for one?” the hostess asks, too tired to smile as she plucks a menu from the rack stand.
Doliver steps forward. “Two. Table for two.”
Her eyes dart past me and widen. “Oh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. It’s been a long day.”
“No worries.”
Once seated, my mind blanks.
