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I didn’t anticipate how quickly Corey could scale the walls I’d erected around my heart with a quick smile and heartfelt compliment. My feelings for Corey Johnson are just as strong as they were when I was a teenager, and that admission makes me feel pathetic. But not pathetic enough to stay away, apparently.
Which is why I’m walking across the busy street in downtown Fort Meyers, wearing an A-line, knee-length black dress that I spent half an hour debating if it was too fancy for this date.
Date.
I’m finally going on a date with Corey Johnson.
This is a moment I’ve dreamed about so many times, it’s hard to believe it’s happening. I keep expecting to wake up and realize I imagined everything from our second kiss to him admittinghe’d made a mistake when he ran away after our first kiss after prom.
But reality hits me right in the chest as I make my way to the bar where we agreed to meet and I see Corey standing outside the doors. He wears dark pants and a gray cashmere sweater. His wavy hair is swooped to the side and it resists the breeze coming off the Gulf, telling me it’s styled with gel.
Taking the time to gussy up for a date might seem like a small gesture to someone else, but I know Corey. As a teenager, he never styled his hair. He despised the way it felt when the gel hardened, and he used to call Carter a pretty boy for taking over half an hour to style his hair with the stuff their Junior year.
So the fact he put in the effort tonight means something.
Or maybe it doesn’t… maybe Corey just grew up and realized there was nothing wrong with a man using hair care products. Maybe he found a gel that didn’t harden?
Ugh.
Like I said… I’m a fool.
My sandals slap against the sidewalk as I approach. Corey looks up from his phone, and the flash of relief that crosses his face makes my heart squeeze.
“You came.”
“I said I would.”
His eyes trail over me before returning to my face. “You look beautiful.”
My cheeks flush. “Thank you. You, too. You look handsome, I mean.”
He smiles. “Thanks. Should we go inside?”
“Sure.”
Corey opens the door for me. I walk in. A bar runs the entire length of the space on the right. Bar stools sit in front of it and there are two-person booths tucked against the left wall. There aren’t many people in here, but the night is still young. Though,I notice the clientele isn’t. Several gray-haired retirees sit at the bar, watching the news on the old TV anchored above the bar. Music plays in the background at a low volume.
“Do you want to pick a booth while I get us drinks?”
“Okay,” I agree. “I’d like a gin and tonic, please.”
“You got it.” Corey walks to the bar, but not before brushing his hand along the small of my back as he steps around me. I feel the touch all the way to my toes, sending a shiver through the length of my body. I need to get a grip. I can’t spend the entire evening acting like the inexperienced teenager who’d swooned anytime Corey looked her way. I refuse.
Silently amping myself up to make it through the evening calm, cool, and collected, I make my way to the booth in the back of the bar. There are a lot of baseball players in Fort Meyers for spring training, but Corey is one of the more recognizable ones. With any luck, being in the back will keep anyone from noticing him. At least for a little while.
With that thought in mind, I sit on the side that has me facing the rest of the bar.
Corey joins me shortly, sliding a goblet-style glass in front of me.
“Woah.” I take in the chunks of fruit floating in the clear liquid. “What’s this?”
“A gin and tonic.” Corey slides into the seat across from me, holding a pale yellow beer in a tall glass. “The bartender asked if you wanted fruit, and I assumed yes. You always demolished fruit salad when we were kids.”
“I mean, I like fruit.” I chuckle and use my straw to move around the pieces of strawberry and melon. “I’ve just never had it in this drink before.”
Corey frowns. “I can get you something else.” He shifts to exit the booth.
“No, it’s okay!” I quickly grab the black straw floating in the liquid and take a sip. “It tastes great.”
