I smirk at her irritation, wishing the woman would put on her damn glasses.
Marina: She didn’t tell me—sorry she’s intruding on you with all thebozes.
Grams: B O X ES.
I laugh to myself, then straighten up, realizing
1.
I’m being a terrible date.
Gil is staring at me, but the thing that’s strange is he doesn’t look annoyed. Instead, there’s a light in his eyes that dances.
I wish I could understand why.
Orders are placed, and while we wait, my anxious fingers drum across the table. If Jenna brought boxes to Grams’ house, that means Aunt Andrea might actually be serious this time. I’m going to have a lot of figuring things out to do when I get home. Staying at Grams a night or two isn’t a problem, but it’s a strictly 55+ community. Despite my boomer-level knowledge of technology, I don’t meet that particular requirement.
What am I going to do?
Gil gulps down three glasses of water before our food arrives—he doesn’t explain it, and I don’t ask. I’ve had stranger dates, and some people are really serious about hydration before caffeine. Finally, a plate of shrimp and cheese grits over medium eggs, paired with a biscuit and a mug of black coffee, is placed before him.
“My Grams—she’s the one I was texting—always said you can tell a lot about someone by their diner order.”
“And what does mine say about me?” Gil asks, suddenly frowning as if awaiting the result of a difficult midterm.
“Well, it’s her skill, not mine.” I hum, continuing to tap my fingers across the table, rather than scratch at my neck in public. “But maybe a cheesy Southern gentleman? Bold, too. I don’t know if I would have been brave enough to order seafood here.”
“I think the accent and the bad jokes might have been a better tip off,” he says. God, I do love that voice. “I haven’t heard any bad jokes yet.” I lean forward to meet his gaze, which he holds with such intensity it makes me squirm.
“Yet is the key word there.” He winks.Winks!And that’s all it takes for me to melt like the pat of butter sitting on top of his grits.
“Mind if I ask the expert?” I ask hopping out from my side of the table and sliding in beside him. “About your order, I mean. My Grams’ll be curious about you too,” I explain, snapping a quick selfie of the two of us and our respective breakfast orders.
Marina: Breakfast order analysis required. What do we think of this one?
It’s not until the heat of his body presses against mine that I realize how close to him I let myself become without even thinking about it.
