Her smile returns. “I’ll grab my purse.”
When Zara climbs in my truck, it feels much different than our morning drives when we’re just going to school. There’s an energy in my truck cab, nervous and exciting. For the first time in over a year, I have a date. I’m going on a date with a gorgeous, kind, amazing girl.
But where am I going?
“So…” I say, backing out of my driveway. “Do you have anywhere special in mind? Dinner? Dancing?”
“You like to go dancing?” she says.
“I’ve never been dancing… I shouldn’t have said that. Unless you want to go?”
“Definitely not.” Zara curls her lip. “I’m not a dancer.”
I pretend to breathe a sigh of relief which makes her giggle. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” she says quickly. “There was nothing to eat in my house. What about you?”
“I’m always starving after football practice.”
“Food it is,” she says, gazing out the window at the road ahead. I’m almost at the end of our street, where I guess I’ll turn left toward town. I don’t want to be the loser who has no romantic place to go, but I’m also new to town so the only places I know how to get to are school and the grocery store.
Zara sits up straighter, placing her hands on the dash. “Okay, so, don’t hate on this idea just yet…”
“I’m listening….”
I stop at a red light and glance over at her. She’s giving me this hesitant look like she’s afraid to tell me her idea. But little does she know, I’m so happy to be on a date with her that I’d happily agree to sit on a dumpster and listen to boring AM radio all night. As long as I’m sitting next to her, I’ll be happy.
“There’s this place,” she says slowly.
“How do I get there?” I glance toward the road, hoping I’m not going the wrong direction.
“Just keep driving straight for a while—so anyway, there’s this place and it’s really fun, or at least I think it’s fun. My family hates it. But that kind of makes me like it even more.”
“Well now I’m intrigued.”
She chews on her bottom lip. Whatever it is, she’s all nervous about it. I’m picturing the opera, or tap dancing, or something really, really lame.
“It’s a food truck park.”
I lift an eyebrow. “What’s bad about that?”
“Right?” She smiles. “It’s so cool! It’s this park and they have a bunch of picnic tables set out, and every week there’s a new set of food trucks there. So every week you can go try out different foods. Sometimes there’s live music playing, too.”
“That sounds amazing. There’s nothing I love more than delicious food.”
She grins. “My family doesn’t like it because they think eating outside is dumb. But try telling that to my dad during football games. He eats nachos and hot dogs constantly, but apparently that’s different.”
“It’s a perfect day for eating outside. I’m pumped. How much farther?”
“Just up ahead. You can’t miss it. They have a big hand painted sign on the side of the road.”
Despite being a Monday night, the food truck park is bustling with customers. Zara and I walk up to where five different food trucks are parked in a line that faces a few dozen picnic tables. There’s Mexican food, Korean BBQ, a Maine Lobster place, a place that only has desserts, and a burger place with a sign that says they have the best fried pickles in the country.
“This is a hard decision,” I say, tapping my finger to my chin while we look over the menus.
“IthinkI want a kimchi burrito,” Zara says. Her lips slide to the side of her mouth while she ponders. “But the fried pickles sound amazing, too. Plus, I love chips and queso…”
“All solid choices,” I say.
