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And we’re on a date. I still can’t believe he reserved a table here. Every time I wanted to go when he was in town, they’d been booked up for the whole week.
“What do you think so far?” Garrison asks, handing me a leather-bound menu. “As cool as you imagined?”
I realize that I’ve been staring at him more than the restaurant. Looking around, I soak up my surroundings: orange and purple velvet chairs and booths, swanky curved bar with fancy liquors, a mirrored ceiling, deep red carpet, and rouged drapes.
“Better.” I can’t stop smiling. “It feels like the Hellfire Club could exist in here.” A popular comic book site named ten restaurants that reminded them of the X-Men films, and Lola Vine was listed under X-Men: First Class. I was shocked a restaurant within distance of my college made the cut.
I wait for Garrison to make a joke like what’s the Hellfire Club? with mock confusion. After all his time working at Superheroes & Scones, I’m pretty sure he’d remember the clandestine society with Emma Frost as a member.
Garrison nods. “That’s good….really good.” His aquamarine eyes flit around the packed restaurant. I doubt anyone will recognize us with the lights dimmed to a dark, warm glow.
A waitress brings iced waters, tells us the specials, and leaves to give us time to order.
I peruse Garrison more than the menu. He’s acting sort of weird. He keeps scooting his chair closer, perching his elbow on and off the table.
“Is everything okay?” I push up my glasses.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” He takes a hefty swig of water.
I shrug. Maybe I’m overthinking his jitters, but I’d like to think I know him really, really well. “I don’t know…are you sure nothing’s going on?”
He runs a hand through his brown hair. “No, nothing’s really going on.” He rests his arm on the back of the chair, trying to be more cool and collected.
I mean, he does look cool.
Tattoos on his bicep, hair falling back to his eyes, and bad boy persona like a well-worn cloak—but after all these years, I know better.
Garrison Abbey is good.
He just has a bad reputation.
One that’s been scrubbed clean by the people who love him most, the ones who gave him another chance, another shot.
I change the topic to movies after we order a margherita pizza and classic pepperoni. “I don’t think anything will ever top Avengers: Endgame.” I sip my water.
Garrison is staring off behind me, then blinks to refocus on me. “Yeah, that’s a good one. Jake Gyllenhaal killed it as that Mysterio guy.”
Wrong movie.
We were talking about Spider-Man: Far From Home five minutes ago. I frown and open my mouth, about to ask if he’s okay again.
But quickly, he asks, “How’d the meeting with Lily and the attorneys go?”
Lily and the attorneys.
Giddiness returns, and it’s weird to think around this time, a whole year ago, I flew to Philly and ran into the hospital. Garrison’s appendix was removed. I was still living in the “party” flat. I was worried about my few friendships and my slipping grades.
A lot has happened in a year. While some things have stayed the same.
My lease ended, and I moved into a studio apartment close to campus. No roommates, which has helped boost my grades up to Bs and As.
And with my new place, it’s been easier keeping Sheetal and Tess as friends. They’ve been on-and-off as a couple all year, ever since Tess changed majors to theatre. But right now, they’re in a “firmly together” stage.
As for Salvatore, I haven’t really spoken much to him since I moved out, but we still share a lot of business classes and see each other.
It’s awkward, but I prefer awkward over the discomfort and bitter anger I started to feel towards him. Especially how he kept treating Garrison like trash.
Sheetal makes class with Salvatore more bearable. She’ll crack jokes before lectures, and the air always feels lighter.
But what Garrison is referencing—Lily and the attorneys—is more recent.
“I figured Lily already told you how it went,” I say, since Garrison is still living in her home with Lo and their kids.
“Yeah, but it’s not you telling me,” Garrison says like hearing me makes all the difference.
My smile tugs higher. “Okay, so it looks like franchising Superheroes & Scones is one-hundred percent a go, and then I pitched the idea of opening up a London branch.”
His mouth parts in a little shock. “London?”
I frown, realizing Lily must’ve left this out. “I didn’t go into the franchise meeting thinking London would come out of my mouth, but Lily asked me, ‘If you opened up a store, which city would you choose?’”
He shakes his head, confused. “Why London, though? You could’ve said…New York City or Pittsburgh.”
“I don’t know New York or Pittsburgh that well,” I say softly. “London has been my home for over two years, and I understand the market and the streets and people. I feel confident I could open a store here, if given the chance.”
