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“Oh, Vander, I’m a mess! I can’t go in there.” My hair, between the wind and the helmet, looked like a cross between a bird’s nest and a beehive.
“We’re not going in. I ordered ahead. Sit tight,” he said. He jogged to the door of the restaurant and returned within a few minutes, our food packed up to go.
I got an inkling of where he wanted this night to go, and despite my body’s Ra-Ra-Ready-to-go, my mind was not yet on board.
“Um, Vander, I-”
“No expectations, koukla. Just going to give you the ten-cent tour of my place. I need to snag you to myself for a little while, and at my house we’ll have no interruptions.”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
He held his hand out between us and I placed my palm over his. “No worries, koukla. You’re good.”
