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The flash of headlights reminds us we’re in the middle of a parking lot. Lance disconnects his mouth from mine, and we turn to see a police cruiser moving through the lot.
“Fucking cops, ruining my goddamn moment.”
I laugh. It’s all breathy and shaky, like the rest of me.
The cruiser stops in front of my car, and the window whirs down. “Everything all right here?”
“Just saying good night, sir.” Lance has his arm thrown casually over my shoulder, but his fingertips are pressing in.
“He was making sure I got to my car safely.” I gesture to the mostly empty lot and state the obvious. “Because it’s dark.”
The policeman regards us for a few long seconds, as if discerning whether we’re likely to be thieves. He must decide we’re harmless. “Careful out here at night. There’ve been some car break-ins lately.”
“Thanks for the warning, officer.” Lance raises a hand.
The police officer taps the side of his car and rolls away, the window whirring up.
Once he’s moved on, Lance returns his focus to me. “Maybe you want to go out for drinks now or something?”
“I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Right. Okay. What about tea? Or maybe a bite to eat?”
“You want to have dinner tonight instead of Friday?”
“It won’t count as dinner. It’s too late.”
“So this is our coffee date, then?” I’m egging him on.
“Well, no. Not unless we have coffee, which probably isn’t the best idea since it’s late. Unless you want to pull an all-nighter with me.” His expression is impish.
“I have to be up early tomorrow.”
His eyes dip back to my mouth. “I bet you could do it.”
“Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.” I imagine an all-nighter with Lance would be exhausting for reasons other than lack of sleep.
“What about going for ice cream then?”
“It’s October.”
“Or some other dessert? Please, Poppy.” He tugs on the end of my ponytail. “I want a reason to say good night again.”
If he means kissing me, he hardly needs an excuse. “I guess dessert wouldn’t hurt.”
“And that way this doesn’t count as part of the dinner and a coffee date thing.”
“You’re quite the negotiator, aren’t you?”
“I always won in debate class. So should I follow you home and we can hit a place near there?”
“Sure. That would work.”
Lance holds my door open. Before I get in he puts a finger under my chin and tilts my head up. I expect some tongue or something, but all I get is a quick brush of lips. “Drive safe.”
“You, too.”
I drop into the driver’s seat, my legs feeling like they’re made of rubber. Lance’s Hummer revs to life, the loud rumble drowning out the sound of my engine turning over and the music filtering through my speaker system. His lights practically blind me. I turn my head away, letting my eyes adjust to the dark for a moment, before I pull out of the lot, and he follows me to my neighborhood.
The butterflies in my stomach won’t stop, and my palms are sweaty. I park in front of my house, but Lance has to drive a little farther down to find a spot for his giant vehicle.
While he’s parking, I run into my house, change into a pair of jeans and a mostly wrinkle-free sweater, and return to meet him on my front porch.
“There’s a little dessert place a couple of blocks away. Does that sound okay?”
“Yeah. Dessert’s my favorite.”
“Great.” We start down the sidewalk. I have to take two steps for every one of his long strides. “They have all kinds of homemade pies and cakes and scones and things, and this amazing lavender tea.”
“Nice. I’m actually kinda hungry now, so that’s perfect.”
“I imagine that’s fairly constant for you.”
“Pretty much.” Lance shoves his hands in his pockets as we walk, so I do, too. “You said you grew up in your house, right? So you’ve lived here all your life?”
“Until high school. We moved to Galesburg for a few years right before I started, but my parents didn’t sell the house. I guess they always thought we’d be back. Or maybe it was a good investment property. The neighborhood’s improved a lot over the years.”
Lance takes in the houses lining the street. They’re pretty, and many of them have been face-lifted, if not totally remodeled, since my childhood.
“I lived around here for a few years,” he says.
“Oh? Whereabouts?”
“Not too far away, I don’t think. Lister Street? All of this looked familiar the last time I came here. My aunt’s moved since I lived with her, so I haven’t been back in this neighborhood for a long time.”
“Oh? Where’d she move to?” I want to distract him from questions about me. Now that he’s taking me out, I can and probably should tell him the entire truth, but I’m not sure how to divulge that information yet.
