I look down at my scrubs. I had anatomy lab today, which means if I don’t smell like formaldehyde, it’s a miracle.
“Give me thirty minutes, and I’ll come pick you up at your house.”
She starts to protest. “I can meet you—”
I cut her off. “Please, Olivia. Please let me come pick you up for a proper date.”
She nods shyly, and this is new. Olivia is not shy. I think back to that first night at Camp Prairie Star when she admitted her fear of vulnerability. But she’s being vulnerable with me now. She stripped herself bare, and I don’t take the sacrifice for granted.
If she’s trusting me with her feelings, trusting that I’ll protect them, I can try to trust her to stay. To communicate. To love me the way I love her.
I’m nothing if not an eternal optimist.
If she’sreallyready this time, if she truly wants to become serious, if she actually is in love with me the way I’ve been suspecting for half the summer, I can’t walk away from that possibility.
I kiss Olivia goodbye for now and drive home.
My parents are still at work, so there’s no one to see me grinning like an idiot as I take a shower and change my clothes. I’m back out the door in record time, texting Olivia as I lock up behind me. I’m guessing she must have unblocked my number, right?
I drive her two exits down the MoPac to Rudy’s Bar-B-Q. To the uninitiated, this Rudy’s looks like a hole in the wall attached to a gas station, but it’s been a go-to barbecue stop for Olivia, Annie, and me since high school.
I’ve never had barbecue better than their moist brisket. Add to that the slightly spicy sauce and some cream corn on the side with banana pudding for dessert, and it comes pretty close to my perfect meal.
No, not the fanciest spot for a first official date, but between the nostalgia factor and how much I know Olivia loves Rudy’s, I’m certain it will be the perfect choice.
When she hops out of the Jeep and beams up at me, holding my arm like she can’t bear to let me go again, I know I’m right. Maybe about more than the restaurant.
We file through the line, picking up our cold sides and drinks, then ordering the hot food from the workers behind a butcher-style counter.
I pay, and we decide to eat outside in the backyard. We sit side by side on the bench of one of the picnic tables facing a castle-themed wooden playground.
Olivia takes a bite of her potato salad in a way that makes me wish I was a spoon. She swallows the food and takes a swig from her bottle of Dr Pepper.
Setting the bottle back on the table, she tilts her head toward me and says, “I’m really happy you agreed to give me another chance, but I have a couple of conditions.”
I feel the corners of my mouth edge up as I marvel at Olivia’s confidence. “You’re putting conditions on me taking you back?” My amusement is evident in the tone of my voice.
“Yes," she answers with a pert nod.
“Okay. Of course you are. What are they?”
I’m suddenly nervous again as she wets her lips. “Well, the first is that I think we should see a therapist together.” She rushes ahead without giving me a chance to comment. “I want a healthy relationship with you that lasts for a long time.”
The relief I feel at her suggestion loosens a band of anxiety around my heart. I smile at her. “I love that idea.” But I have conditions of my own. “I’d want to see someone adoption-competent. Would it be weird for us to go to the therapist I already see? Dr. Francine does couple’s sessions too.”
“That’s fine with me. Can you set it up?”
“Consider it done.” I move my hand from the table to her knee, squeezing it. “What’s your second condition?”
She chews her bottom lip, and I shove a forkful of brisket in my mouth to soften the blow of whatever she’s going to say next.
“Okay, this is tricky,” Olivia starts hesitantly. “I’m not even sure I want to suggest it, except that I think it’s important and will be good for us in the long term.”
“What is it?” I ask around the food in my mouth.
“Well … I think we should stop kissing.”
My sharp intake of breath sucks the last piece of brisket in my mouth down the wrong pipe, and I choke. Olivia starts to stand up to help, but I wave her away and cough violently into my hand. Finally, I take a big gulp of soda to clear my throat.
