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“Yeah! Sure, unless you need to get going.”
He leans forward, speaking in a medieval fashion. “My ears are at your service, my lady.”
When I’m done yapping his ear off, we say our goodbyes and I head back upstairs to my desk. When I turn the corner, knowing he can’t see my face, my lips breach into a wide grin. I, Hannah Matthews, have a date tonight.
I’m nervous.
Not as nervous as if I was conjuring up a plan to trick a specific someone into sleeping with me, but there’s a jitter in my belly. A good jitter? Guilty jitter? Why would I feel guilty? How about it’s simply because it’s been a million years since I’ve been on a date. I’ll stick to that.
I walk out of my bedroom, passing my parents on the couch watching their nightly news. I pick up the pace, hoping to get out without a billion questions. After pacing for a solid thirty minutes, I decide to withhold my real plans. Explaining I’m going on a date with a guy from work, which will set off a round of questions, sounds like an unneeded headache. Plus, question overkill is my parents’ favorite game.
“Bye, guys…I’m going to…uh, get pizza with some high school friends.” Go. Go. Go…
My parents, both seated closely together, bump heads when they cock their necks back, eyeing me curiously. My mom is wearing her one glass of chardonnay smile. “Okay, honey.”
“Where you headed to, kiddo?” Dad questions.
Darn it. Nosy parents.
Have I ever mentioned I’m a horrible liar? Make-believe friends are a hard fable to master.
“Yeah, um…Bill’s Pizza—”
“Bill’s?” Dad’s voice hikes, and his nose crinkles in disgust. My mom’s lips thin.
Great.
Here we go.
Bill’s Pizza Pub—the only restaurant on my family’s do-not-eat-ever list. We’re a Savino’s pizza family. We stick together when it comes to our slice of pie. So, when Braydon texted me with his perfect place, I theatrically groaned at my phone. I know there are people out there who believe pizza is all created equal. Not the Matthews. It must have the perfect amount of ingredients and true love for it to come out just right. One night, the weather had been so bad, it knocked out the power at Savino’s and they had to close. Desperate for pizza, we ordered from Bill’s. A house full of food poisoning later, we swore never again. A year passed, and when no one still cringed at the memory of the fights of who got to barf in the toilet and who barfed in the laundry sink, we tried it again. Same. Damn. Thing. Every time we attempted, shit hit the fan, literally. We all agreed that place was cursed, and no Matthews was to ever eat there again.
“Bill’s? We hate Bill’s.”
“Everyone hates Bill’s,” Dad gripes. “They should have shut that place down by now!”
“Honey, you remember that one time you had such bad poops, we had to get those wipes—”
Gah! Don’t remind me! “I didn’t pick—”
“Why aren’t you guys going to Savino’s? It’s your favorite.”
“And it’s closer,” my mom chimes in.
“Who are these friends you’re meeting? Everyone around here knows Savino’s is the best. You’re going to get sick. I can’t allow my daughter to eat their poison pizza.”
“Dad, it wasn’t my pick—”
“Honey, you should really consider cancelling. Linda from Bunko just ate there and she said her bowels—”
“Okay…well, bye!” I shut them down and practically run out of the house. I certainly don’t need anyone reminding me of how I convinced myself I had deposited my intestines into the toilet after attempting their meat lovers.
It will be fine.
I’ll just order a salad.
Plain, dry salad.
Pulling up to Bill’s, lucky me, I find a close parking spot in front of the restaurant. Probably because everyone knows to stay clear of this place. My stomach starts to churn seeing the neon sign, but I push away the convulsions and force my legs out of my car.
“Hannah!” I hear my name, and I spin around to see Braydon walking up as I shut my car door. “You made it.” He smiles, leaning in for a hug. I’m caught off guard by his friendliness, unable to make a move before he captures me in his arms and cocoons me to his chest. “So glad you came.” We stand there for a few short seconds, until he offers me one more tight squeeze, my breasts pressing against him before he releases me.
“Yeah, me too!” I reply, regaining my composure. I smile, pushing away the stupidity at the place he chose and remember why I said yes. Because I want to get to know him better. Not lose five pounds fast. He’s changed out of his suit attire into a pair of bootcut jeans and a forest green polo. He appears younger in casual clothes.
“Let’s go in. I bet you’re starving. This is the perfect place.” Without another word, I allow him to take my hand and escort me inside. The lighting is dim, the air thick with Italian spices. We’re quickly seated in a corner booth, and our drink orders taken. “I have to say, Hannah, I didn’t expect you. As in…you as a whole. I knew you were starting, but never did I imagine you being so…this…well, special.” Braydon stares at me from across the table, his eyes confident as they peer into mine.
