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She raised her drink toward me. “Then that makes this date awfully simple, doesn’t it?”
“No rules or expectations,” I agreed. “We can have a nice evening together, then go our separate ways.”
“I’ll pay for my half of the dinner,” she added.
I immediately shook my head. “Absolutely not. This is still a date, and I’m still a gentleman. Besides, your house just burned down. You’ve had a rough go. Maybe dinner will ease things a bit, yeah?”
“You already carried me out of the burning building,” Alyssa pointed out. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Not even close.” I considered revealing that Jack had been the one to carry her out, but that would only start a fight whenever she confronted Jack about it. It was stupid of my best pal to lie about that, but that was his decision to make.
Alyssa leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, causing her dress to slide up another inch. Not that I looked or anything. “This takes the pressure off of the night. I was trying to figure out how to reject you at the end of the night without hurting your feelings.”
“I had a plan,” I said. “I was going to walk you to your door, kiss you on the cheek, and say goodnight.”
She gasped and touched her face. “How scandalous.”
“But I agree. I feel a lot more relaxed now. We don’t even have to do any of that small talk to try to get to know each other.”
“Oh! I still want to do that!” she insisted. “That’s the best part of a first date: all the small talk. Go ahead. What were you going to ask?”
“Are you certain?” I asked. “These are pretty saucy questions. You might rethink how you want the night to go.”
She leaned forward. “Give me your worst.”
“You were warned.” I cleared my throat. “If you could have dinner with anyone in history, dead or alive, who would it be?”
Alyssa raised an eyebrow. “That’s your question?”
“I warned you it would be saucy.”
“Annie Leibovitz,” she replied without hesitation. “The photographer.”
“Explain.”
Alyssa’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “She’s one of the most famous photographers in history. She specialized in major figures in pop-culture. If you think of a famous photograph from 1970 to 2000, it was probably taken by Annie. She photographed Queen Elizabeth, Keith Richards and Mick Jagger, Demi Moore, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Gisele Bundchen, LeBron James.” She snapped her fingers. “Here’s one you probably know. The famous photograph of John Lennon and Yoko Ono. John is nude, curling his body in the fetal position around Yoko.”
“I do know that photo,” I said, picturing it in my head. “Wasn’t it taken a few days before he was murdered?”
“A few hours,” she replied. “It’s a perfect example of how context changes a photo. When it was taken, it was full of love and energy. But a few hours later, after John was dead, the photo told a completely different story. It was their last kiss. It’s like they were saying goodbye.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s powerful.”
She nodded. “Annie is definitely my answer. I’d love to have dinner with her, picking her brain about her life. I bet she has some amazing stories to tell.” Her blonde curls swayed as she shook her head. “Okay, your turn.”
I smiled sadly. “My answer is going to bring down the mood.”
“Aw, come on! That’s a cop-out.”
“All right, but I warned you.” I took a long sip from my drink. “If I could have dinner with anyone in history, I’d pick my mum.”
Alyssa’s face twisted from curiosity, to surprise, to understanding. “Oh.”
“No, it’s all right. She died when I was thirteen. Time’s healed that wound.”
“You two were close?”
I nodded. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters. It was just us. And dad, but he was gone for work a lot. I wish I could have dinner with her one last time, to let her know I turned out all right.” I smiled. “She’s the one who told me to see the world as much as I could. That’s why I signed up to be a foreign exchange student. I wouldn’t have ended up here if not for her.” I gestured with my drink.
