Page 44 of The Moment I Knew

“Oh, that’s okay,” he said, grabbing one cup despite my words. “I’ll convert you over to my side.”

I stared at him, sure that he was joking, but then he walked off to choose a fro-yo flavor without even consulting me. So clearly that wasn’t going to happen. I sighed. “Okay,” I muttered under my breath and trailed after him. The less time I spend fighting, the sooner this date would be over.

He walked straight over to the vanilla dispenser, which I personally felt was the most boring flavor you could possibly get, especially somewhere with such interesting flavors, but he didn’t ask my opinion before he pulled the handle and filled the cup to the top. Then we walked over to the toppings.

“You can get as many as you want,” he said. “I have my dad’s card, so it’s okay.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. I stuck my hands in my pockets and looked at the toppings—trays of colorful sprinkles and gummy bears and crushed nuts. The options felt endless, almost overwhelming if I’m being honest.

I would have had a lot of fun here if I’d come with Ainsley. We would have been running around giggling, trying every single thing that didn’t mix with each other at all. I vowed to come back here with her and try all the flavors Mitch walked past, all the toppings I was sure he was going to veto. Maybe Ainsley and I could come back on our birthday in a few weeks to celebrate.

But for now I needed to focus on the bad date at hand, so I pointed to the mini chocolate chips. “How about those? That’ll work with vanilla.”

He made a face. “Kind of boring.”

I raised my brows. “Did you really just call me boring on a first date?”

Once again, he completely missed my tone. As he moved towards the mix-ins and said, “Come on, live a little.” Then he went through, grabbing a little bit of every single topping on display—from fresh fruit to peanut butter to candy bars— and started pouring it into the ice cream. Everything, I noticed, besides mini chocolate chips.

I tried not to cringe at the combination. It didn’t matter anyway. I wasn’t going to eat any of this as soon as he double-dipped his spoon. He paid, of course, card flashing, then nodded at the cashier like they’d just shared a moment. I grabbed us two spoons, green for him, pink for me, and we moved over to a booth by the window.

I waited for him to sit down, and then sat across from him, worried that if I gave him the choice, he would try to sit down with me. I was glad that I did a moment later, as he sprawled out across his side of the booth, arm draped across the empty back of the seat, as if he was trying to make a sign to me that I was supposed to sit there so he could put his arm around me. I stayed where I was, suddenly grateful for the extra space.

“So,” he said, grinning, “first official date.”

“Uh-huh,” I said.

Since he hadn’t stuck his spoon in the frozen yogurt yet, I took my chance and took one bite. I hated vanilla, so that ruined everything, and the cold of the yogurt made the gummy worm too cold and on my teeth. Mitch watched me with anticipation, likely awaiting my reaction to his vanilla fro-yo concoction. “Good?” he asked.

I did my best to chew the half-frozen gummy worm, then said, “Yeah, it’s fine.”

He laughed. “You don’t get excited much, do you?”

I set my spoon down on a napkin and leaned back in the booth. It seemed like such a rude assumption, given that he practically forced me into this date, then didn’t ask me a single opinion about anything we were doing on it. So I just stared back. “Not about frozen yogurt.”

“Not about dating either, apparently.”

I didn’t answer that. No, I didn’t get interested in dating, and I told him that multiple times. It was his fault that he chose not to listen to it. I watched as he went in for another scoop, loading up so much on his spoon that it practically fell off and then shoved it in his mouth. Without waiting to swallow, he said, “You’re insane. This is delicious.”

I tried not to gag at the sight of all the food in his mouth. He scooped up another bite of his frozen yogurt, which had approximately six different mix-ins in it.

“So,” he said, lowering his voice like this was confidential. “You ever been on a real date before?”

“You mean with someone I actually liked? No.”

He grinned and gestured to himself. “Not until now, right?”

I looked at him flatly. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“It’s okay if I’m your first real date. It’s an honor actually.”

“And why is that?”

“So I can finally prove to you that we’re meant to be together.”

“I still don’t think we’re meant to be together.”

He tipped his head back and groaned like a child being told no. “Come on, Imogen. I’m trying here.”