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She reaches across to Trent’s plate and steals a fry, lifting it to her lips and pausing. “That is until tonight,” she challenges me and takes a nibble. A burst of color rushes to her cheeks as she leans forward, elbow pressed to the tabletop.
Jasmine runs with the hand-off and hooks her arm around mine and presses her head to my shoulder. “I have a tight black pencil dress that goes all the way down to my ankles. That and I can pull my hair up into a tight bow for our next date.”
All eyes are on me as I run my tongue across the top row of my teeth. Her words are filled with a dozen land mines, none larger than the mention of a second date. “And would I be required to dress up too?”
Jasmine wiggles her hips, bumping into me, and chews on her lower lip. I’m sure she is cueing up a response and is weighing its appropriateness given the audience. I remind myself this night is supposed to be about fun. “Go ahead, you can say it. You’re amongst friends. The naughtier, the better.” Dating is filled with self-imposed anxiety and unnecessary stress we often fail to show our true selves, our best selves. I give her permission to relax and be herself.
“Lifeguard,” she blurts out. “Shirtless—Speedo-wearing lifeguard.” Her hand rushes to her mouth as the entire table bursts into a fit of laughs.
“Lucas in a Speedo? For that, I’m willing to subject myself to another double date,” Adrienne blurts. Her eyes go wide as she realizes the implication.
Trent lowers the chicken leg that is less than an inch from his half-opened mouth and places it on top of a mountain of rice. My eyes lock on the poultry rolling down the slope like a slow-moving skier. It teeters on the edge of his plate. “Are you not…” he starts.
Adrienne stuffs her hands down on her lap. “I didn’t mean anything… it was a stupid joke.” Adrienne has the kindest heart on Earth, and I already know she’s going to beat herself up all night unless I act.
“I think what she is trying to say, Trent, is that she’d much rather have you to herself.” I rescue her, knowing she’s done the same for me a hundred times. “And for the record, a night alone with Adrienne is the reason God put us on this planet.” Truer words have never been spoken, and I don’t care who hears me.
Trent smiles like a Cheshire cat, wiping his greasy lips with the paper napkin. “If a Speedo-wearing lifeguard is your fantasy, baby, I got you covered. You, me, tomorrow night? No double date necessary.”
I brace for her reaction.
She offers a quick we’re here to have a good time, go with the flow wink to Trent. “You’re cute and all, and I’m sure there is a girl or two waiting for you back in California that would love to see you in a Speedo.”
Like I said, kind heart. She’s attempting to let him down easy in front of an audience. “None of them are anything like you,” he spits back. “They’ll still be there when I get to California, and I’m here with you right now.”
Really, dude? Do you think you have a shot in the world at someone as amazing as Adrienne?
Adrienne’s focus shifts to the edge of the table in front of her, her dainty fingers reaching up to adjust the beautiful daisy in her hair. “I don’t do competition, Trent. Men who want me, want me. Plain and simple. It’s never a question of comparison. How’s your food?” She gives him another escape route as I catch Jasmine in the corner of my eye leaning forward, taking notes from the most badass woman she’ll ever meet.
“And what if I’m just learning what I want?” Trent doubles down, not taking the hint. I wonder why Trent gives Adrienne the inquisition and not his parents. “What if…”
Adrienne lifts a finger in his direction without turning to face him, the message clear to a five-year-old: Don’t finish that thought.
“The game of what-if will keep you on the sideline. They say opportunity is for the brave for a reason. Know what you want, and then go get it. It’s that simple. And if you don’t know, stay away. Don’t bring chaos to someone else’s life until you are one hundred percent committed.” Adrienne is laying down the law. Her rules. The rules that have kept my worry at bay over the last few years. She is not the type for a casual hookup. When she is ready, it will be with the right guy. The type of guy who is worthy of a woman like her. Someone who knows not only that she is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow but is also brave enough to risk it all.
She lifts her chin slowly, her gaze no longer on the table but slowly challenging mine. I don’t flinch and lean forward. My lips part, but before I can speak, Jasmine jerks on my arm.
“I know what I want,” Jasmine declares loud enough to be heard by half the restaurant. She doesn’t wait for a reply, bouncing up and down in the seat I fear she’s going to knock over our drinks. “I want to go dancing. We have to work all this food off somewhere.”
Trent lifts a hand and shares a high five with Jasmine. “That’s what I’m talking about. There must be a club or bar with good music somewhere in Mesa.”
It’s still early; the clubs won’t be hopping for a few more hours. It’s still happy hour at the bars too. There are only a few options remaining, but I’m not about to share those with a clueless Trent and a girl who flashes men every time she bends over.
I chew on my tongue and pray Adrienne does the same. I take a long sip of my cherry Coke and ignore the silence at the table.
“I know a place,” Adrienne states. Four words that destroy any thoughts I had of this night ending early.
11
I never understand the fascination with dance clubs and bars. There are a million places I’d rather go dancing. For me, a good time has little to do with the location. It’s all about the company.
It would have been so easy for me to sit in silence and let this evening peter out early. But I couldn’t ignore Jasmine’s request. She’s trying. Every woman’s been there. Stuck in the land between trying to follow our instinct while hearing the voices of a lifetime of societal expectations. Be pretty and sit in silence. Let the guy decide everything. Take care of your partner’s wants first. And the worst one of them all, don’t speak your mind.
Jasmine spoke loud and clear, and I needed to support her. To let her know her opinion matters, that she matters.
“So, you’re not going to tell us where we’re going?” Trent is holding my hand in his lap in the back seat of Lucas’ dad’s car. He took my hand five minutes ago under the guise that he is a palm reader. We both knew it wasn’t true, but I didn’t call him out. Over dinner and dessert, I peeled away some of his layers. He’s a good guy. He carries a false bravado to hide the struggles just beneath the surface. Lucas had previously shared his situation with me about his home life. It only took me thirty seconds of chatting with him quietly at the ice cream buffet bar to see the hurt in his eyes—the struggle to find a place he feels wanted and comfortable. His parents’ reaction chipped away at his self-confidence and self-worth.
Lucas is a sweetheart for what he is doing for his friend, giving him a soft landing spot to decompress after graduation. I can’t imagine how Trent will navigate the impossible situation that waits for him in California.
