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I was so stupid.
I stare at my phone and since he hasn’t responded and there’s not even those three bouncing dots to tell me he’s replying, I think it’s safe to just leave. I have better things to do than waste my time—I did enough of that when I was a teen.
I slide out of the very cramped line. To be honest, even if I wasn’t dying to leave anyway, my claustrophobia is already begging me to leave. I turn and begin walking down the street. Time to call and Uber and go home and find food and maybe ice cream.
I think I’ve earned ice cream.
“Casey! Hold up!” I freeze, because suddenly my quiet bowing out of tonight seems to have exploded. I turn slowly to see Gavin jogging toward me.
Jogging.
My little high school introvert self lets out an inner cheer of glee. Gavin O’Leary jogging to stop me from leaving. I sigh. If only he had done that when we were younger…
“You were just going to leave?” he sounds disappointed. Which seems completely unreal to me.
“Uh, yeah the line for this place is huge.”
“Yeah, but we already have a table,” he responds with a smile.
He sounds so pleased with himself that I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t want to go in. That means I find myself pulled in close to Gavin, doing my best to ignore how great he smells, or how tiny his big body next to mine makes me feel—all while walking past obviously annoyed people in line.
Gavin somehow gets in the door and escorts me to a table. It’s a table by the window which is probably one of best tables in the place. It’s opulent and very high brow. I wore my best dress and yet I’m pretty sure it doesn’t measure up. When I see several A-list stars eating and laughing I’m sure it’s not. I paid fifty bucks for my emerald green silk dress with straps that crisscross on my chest and latch behind my neck. It falls to just below my knee and it makes me feel feminine. It also brings attention to the girls which is never a bad thing when you’re out on a date with a hot guy.
Gavin is wearing black slacks and sports jacket with a white dress shirt that has a few buttons undone, playing peek-a-boo with a smattering of chest hair. I try not to stare, but my gaze keeps going back because he’s just that… pretty.
He pulls out my seat for me, despite the waiter standing by our table. Then he sits down a cross from me, his eyes sparkling.
Oh dear, this was a bad idea. So bad…
I order a white wine and accept the menu as the waiter passes one onto Gavin. He seems completely at ease here, although I guess he should. He apparently stars in movies and is tight the it guy in Hollywood—Aden Smith. I’m so out of my depth here that it’s just not funny.
“I’m not stepping on the shoes of your former date, am I?” I ask, clearing my throat as I open up the menu. I pretend to stare at the choices on it, but in reality everything is kind of blurry because I’m not even trying to pay attention. It’s sushi. I’m scanning to other items besides sushi and all I see is carpaccio at least they give you a beef and a fish choice in it.
God help me.
How can the most popular restaurant in town not offer cooked food? The waiter comes back with my drink and asks if we’re ready to order. I’m wondering if I can order the soup and manage to get enough of it down. Dashi soup is cold here I’m pretty sure. Hell, maybe it is everywhere. I don’t even know.
“Ladies first,” Gavin says, looking nervous.
“No, you go first, I’m still deciding,” I counter. Miso soup for the win and a salad for the win, maybe…
“We’ll need a few minutes,” he says and I turn my gaze to him.
Hmmm…
“How many times have you eaten here?” I ask, taking a sip of my wine.
“Here?” he asks looking up at me, clearly surprised. His head goes down and he quickly looks back at his menu. “Oh this place is really popular among the crew.”
“Okay, but how many times have you eaten here?” I push.
He puts down his menu and sighs. “Full disclosure. I’ve brought a few dates here to impress them but I only eat the salad.”
“But you hate salads. You despise lettuce.”
“How do you know that?” he asks clearly shocked
“Gavin, you ran for Senior Class President on the slogan, Fix our lunchrooms. Less Greens more meat!”
He starts laughing and I try to ignore how much the sound of that makes my heart beat erratically. “I’d forgotten that,” he murmurs, shaking his head. My gaze lingers on the crinkled lines around his eyes and how good they look. Gavin has always been hot, but somehow he only improved with age. Even the scar that he’ll self-consciously touch here and there does nothing to detract from his beauty. If anything, it just makes him more devastatingly rugged. “Man, I still can’t believe I didn’t win with that slogan.”
