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She keeps pulling on her sparkly dress. I’m a fucking moron for bringing her here. I don’t even like this that much. Even I’ve only been to a couple of places like this. This shit is next level. The amuse was awesome, and so is this girl. I’ll gauge whether she wants to stay.

“Little witch, what’s brewing?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m cool.” Her voice is strained, and she’s smiling a bit too much.

“You are, but that’s not what I’m asking.” She moves around in her seat again. This skirt must be too short or something. But who cares. She’s been super squirmy all night.

“You look gorgeous. Stop messing with the dress. It’s perfect. You’re fine. Really.” She rolls her eyes and tries to pull it back down again. She fidgets with the silverware in front of her.

“They’ll bring you the fork and knife you’ll need for each course.”

“So, this whole setup with the plate and like a full set of cutlery is for what? Show?”

I smile and laugh. “Yes.”

“Tremendous waste. I assume they have to toss it in the dishwasher, even though I didn’t use it. What’s the purpose of the butter knife when the butter boy is going come over and spread it anyway?” I bust out laughing, and she does too. I’m happy to see her relax. I think we should bail on this. I lean forward to ask if she wants to go and she’s squirmy again.

She tries to fix her skirt situation by half standing up. One waiter is there in a flash and pulls out her chair as if she’s headed to the bathroom again. She sits back down without knowing, and there is no one on earth that can stop this shit from happening. She lands with a thud, and four more tuxedoed waiters rush over. I’m up in a flash, almost jumping over the table to get to her.

“Makenzie!” I don’t make it around the table before the men lift her up. But she weighs next to nothing, and there are two men who don’t account for her slight frame and lift her a little too quickly. She’s now hoisted over their heads like she’s the baby lion in The Lion King and glares at me. I can’t help but laugh as she’s presented to the room like she’s mid-ice-skating lift. Wrapping my hands around her waist the men back off. I place her feet on the floor again.

She tosses her arms up and yells so everyone hears her, “Now can we get the fuck out of here?”

I hand a credit card to the closest waiter and tell him I’ll be back tomorrow to collect it. But to run the whole bill. I take her hand, and she looks down at her shoes. She adjusts her dress again, and I whisper in her ear, “You look so gorgeous. And good God, you’re my favorite thing to watch. You’re like my favorite show.”

She mutters, “Shit show.”

I laugh and say, “All of the shows. Are you ok?”

“Yes.”

I curl my arm around her waist. “Look, I’ll take the shit and the not shit. Doesn’t matter. I got you. I’m so sorry. This was stupid and I’m so sorry about it all.” She curls into me as we make our way around our table to the exit. When we’re almost out of the dining room, I see a devious glint in her eye. There’s my bad girl. She grabs a bottle of wine from someone’s table, takes one giant swig, then offers the bottle to me. I glug down some very good red hooch and quickly exit the building.

As we spill onto the street, she roars with laughter. We run down the road, and I hear the maître d’ yell about the bottle we stole. I’m sure we’ll be charged, but who cares?

Once I know we’re in the clear, I lift her chin, kiss her jaw, and reach her lips. She greets me with a sensual and wet kiss. She lightly moans against my lips. I’m so fucking underwater, drowning in all things Makenzie. It’s cold, and I don’t know where we’re headed, but a shop is closing, and I pull her inside. I grab two coats, a couple of dopey beanies, and gloves. I pay with one of the other credit cards in my wallet.

She pulls the pink beanie down over her hair, not caring if her hair’s been done for tonight.

I say, “You look derpy in that.”

She laughs hard. “Then I’m never taking it off.” She puts on a navy coat that swims on her slender body, and I grab a different size.

She shakes her head and explains, “It’s fine. I like a big coat. It feels more like a hug, and I can pretend it’s a hand-me-down versus something that’s too expensive for a date. Next time get me flowers.” I kiss her quickly as she shoves the gray beanie on my head.

“Deal.”

“Or shoes. I like size seven and a half shoes.”

I look down at her feet. “Noted.” She kisses me sweetly and lingers a little longer than we should in front of the shop girl. I know she’d never accept shoes from me, which makes me like her all the more. She only took the coat because she was freezing.

“You know you look derpy too.”

“Then I’ll never take it off either. We can derp it up together.” She actually looks scorching.

We walk on, and I give her the space to find what we both know she’s curious about. We’re strolling and holding hands for about twenty minutes when finally, she talks again.

“What’s it like?”