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63
I walked over to my dorm room and tried the knob. Still locked.
“Hold on,” Derek said from inside.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting the surprise ready.”
“What kind of surprise takes five minutes?”
“You’ll find out.”
“You better not be getting naked in there.”
“Do you want me to get naked?” he asked, laughing.
I pictured him naked on the other side of the door, his muscles rippling under his olive skin, and what he would look like below his waist –
“NO,” I said vehemently.
“Okay, then, I need to put my pants back on, hold on a sec,” he joked.
A little flutter of heat and electricity stirred between my legs.
“That’s not funny.”
“Yeah it is. Hold on…”
Click.
“Okay, you can come in now.”
I turned the knob and opened the door.
The lights were off. Though the venetian blinds were shut, late-afternoon light still glowed in the window – but the room was dim enough for the candles to be dazzling.
Lots and lots of candles. Probably twenty of them, those little tea candle lights. They sat in clusters on the window ledge, on Shanna’s bare desk, and in a couple of places on the floor.
In the middle of the room was a quilted blanket laid out on the floor. Beside that was a picnic basket, the big wicker kind. And sitting on the blanket were two plates with knives and forks and spoons and linen napkins, and little plastic tubs from a supermarket deli. There was a bottle of red wine, too, and crystal wine glasses.
And a tiny white vase with a single red rose sticking out of it.
Derek stood there behind the picnic basket, looking a little shy – like he wasn’t sure I was going to like it or not.
My hands flew to my mouth.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, and my eyes welled up.
“Is it okay?” he asked. “I just… I wanted to do something special for you, since it might be… the last time I ever see you.”
I felt like I was going to cry.
All I could do was nod. I took my hands away from my mouth so he could see I was smiling, and then he relaxed.
“Okay,” he grinned, and walked past me and shut the door.
Then he put his hand on the small of my back, and an electric thrill of pleasure ran through my entire body.
“Have a seat,” he said.
64
I sat across from him as he cut the foil off the wine bottle with one of those combination knives/corkscrews.
“How’d you get all this stuff up here?” I asked.
“Ryan. He snuck the picnic basket up here when he disappeared.”
“Ahhhh.” I looked around at the plates and silverware and glasses. It was pretty damn nice for a picnic basket. I probably would have gone with plastic plates and cutlery. “Did you buy this?”
“No, it’s Ryan’s parents’. He kind of borrowed it for me.”
“Kind of?”
“Ahh, they never use it.”
Derek pulled out the cork, then poured us each a glass. He clinked his against mine.
“To you… and to your brilliant future as a world-famous journalist.”
“And to your brilliant future as a world-famous rock star.”
“I’ll drink to that,” he said, and we both took a sip.
I had only tasted wine at a wedding before, and I was expecting not to like it – but I did. It was a lot sweeter and mellower than the sour stuff at my cousin’s reception, and a hundred times better than the crappy beer I’d had at the few parties I’d gone to in high school and college.
“You like it?” he asked apprehensively.
“Yeah. It’s really good. How the hell did you get it? Do you have a fake ID or something?”
“Yeah, I do, but, uhhh…” He grinned. “Ryan stole it for me from his parents’ wine collection. I told him to get something awesome.”
“OH MY GOD!” I cried out. “You’re going to get him in so much trouble!”
“I’ll make it up to him.”
“Derek…”
“Chill out, he was happy to do it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Dinner and wine, compliments of the Miller family.”
“Hey – just the wine and picnic basket,” he said defensively. “I bought everything else myself.”
I suppressed a smile. “Okay. What did you get?”
There was a fancy salad made with greens and tangerine slices, and herbed potatoes, and chicken stuffed with artichokes and cheese. I warmed up the chicken and potatoes in the microwave – the one appliance I had brought from home, and the only one left in the room – and we ate and sipped wine and talked.
For dessert there was a big, thick slice of double chocolate cake. We shared it off the same plate, laughing and battling with spoons for the last bits of frosting. I would have given it to him if he asked, and I’m sure he would have given it to me – but the rivalry was more fun.
