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“But in all seriousness,” she says, her tone matching her words, “if you need me, call me. I’ll be there in a flash. Say the word and I will kick his ass from here to the Space Needle.”
I want to roll my eyes. What is it with the Morenos being so overprotective today? Instead, I just give her another hug. “You know, your dad told me the same thing today.”
“Well, I’m not surprised.” We both make our way to my bedroom so she can sort through my limited makeup supply and I can get ready for my shower. “You’re just like another daughter to him. Of course he’s going to worry about you.”
The comment makes me flinch, and I hope Bianca hasn’t noticed.
Okay, universe, I get it, no need to send any more signs. I’m moving on.
EIGHT
Violet
I pull into the packed parking lot of the sports bar near campus that Tyler has chosen for our date and squeeze my car into a space near the back. Before I get out, I check my makeup one last time in the mirror. I’ll always believe Bianca is a miracle worker when it comes to makeup. Her own always reflects her personality, colorful and bold. However, she took a much lighter hand to mine tonight. She has my makeup looking soft and enhances my natural features. She’s done something to my blue eyes to make them look twice as large as normal and the subtle sheen of nude gloss makes my normally anemic looking lips slightly poutier. Even if Tyler doesn’t like the look, I certainly do.
Getting out of the car, I take a moment to smooth down my dress. It’s nothing flashy, just a simple black with white polka dot dress that falls a few inches above my knees—one of my favorites—coupled with a pair of black low-heeled booties. I figure if I’m walking into a potentially awkward situation I might as well be comfortable.
I know that if Bianca could, she would have tried to get me into one of her flashier outfits but luckily, she knows that anything she owns would be swimming on me. Bianca is a statuesque beauty, a Botticelli babe. And I’m, well, not. If I put enough product and effort into my hair, I just kiss the five-foot, two-inch mark. My breasts are a comfortable B cup that look good on my compact frame but my curves aren’t anything like those of my two beautiful roommates. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with the way that I am but I know I don’t necessarily fit the tits and ass requirements that a lot of guys my age look for.
Deciding that I’ve had enough of analyzing my date-night look, I head toward the main door of the bar. It’s well-lit and there are people milling around outside. The hour is too early for many people to be stumbling around the parking lot drunk just yet.
Tyler offered to pick me up, but I declined, figuring it was better to have my car with me just in case. Once I get to the front of the bar, I shoot Tyler a text letting him know that I’m here. It takes a few minutes for him to respond but he lets me know that he’s already inside sitting at a table near the back.
I push inside and weave through the Friday-night crowd. The place is filled to the brim with a combination of students that are here for the baseball game that’s lighting up the TV screens or for general shenanigans which seem to be taking place around the pool tables and dart boards. I scan the room and finally spot Tyler sitting at a table near the back, staring up at a television screen.
It takes a few moments for him to notice my approach but when he does, he jumps up and gives me a hug, then grabs the single red rose I hadn’t noticed sitting on the table and hands it to me. “A beautiful rose for a beautiful lady,” he says with a smile. I know that I’m blushing; I’m not really used to compliments, especially those from attractive men.
“Thank you.” He pulls out the seat for me and it’s then that I notice there are several empty beer bottles on the table. “Am I late?” I ask, worried that I got the time wrong and that he’s been here awhile.
“You’re right on time.” He gestures to the bottles in question. “I got here a little early to catch some of the game. Do you mind if I sit on this side of the table so I can catch the score?”
The question seems pretty moot at this point since he’s already seated me in the chair that’s facing away from the television and settling back into his own. “Uh, sure. No problem.”
“I’m so glad we’re finally doing this,” he says.
“Yeah, me too.” I give him a gentle smile. We make awkward small talk until the waitress comes around.
“Oh, great,” Tyler says when the harried looking waitress approaches our table. “We’ll have two more beers and a shot of Patron each.” I know Tyler is just trying to be nice but I don’t really care for beer and I definitely don’t want a shot. Not when I have to drive home. But I don’t want to embarrass him in front of the waitress. Instead, I just ask her to include a water for myself. “Did you want any food? I already ate.” I just shake my head. I’m not going to be the only one of the two of us eating. It’s a good thing I had a snack before I left the house.
After the waitress takes our order, she heads off presumably to get us our drinks. “I love this place.” Tyler has to raise his voice to be heard over the din of customers. “I found it sophomore year and I’ve been coming here ever since.”
I don’t mind going to a sports bar occasionally but it’s not really my scene. I’d much rather go somewhere quiet where we can talk, maybe take a walk together or do an activity but he told me he would handle planning the date so I figured that was nice of him. “Yeah, it’s busy in here,” I say with a smile.
We fall into the comfortable topic of classes and professors that we’ve shared over the years. He has me laughing at the impression he does of our third year Comparative Lit professor who could never seem to find his notes. It’s... nice. Comfortable.
I’m slowly sipping on the beer that the waitress delivered to us, trying not to grimace at the taste. I’m a wine or fruity drink girl all the way but I can handle a beer for the evening. Tyler grabs his tequila shot and holds it up in the air, waiting for me to do the same. I eye the tiny glass of clear liquid skeptically. I surreptitiously check the time on one of the enormous TV screens and figure I have enough time to get it out of my system, so I join him in raising my own tiny glass of liquid hangover.
“To our first date,” he says clinking his shot against mine.
“To our first date,” I repeat.
“And to date number two.” He smiles before downing the shot in one go.
I smile and pour the small amount of liquid into my mouth but only manage half of it before I’m coughing and sputtering. Tyler laughs and reaches around to pat me on the back while I try to get my throat and lungs under control. I can’t even remember the last time I took a shot. It was probably at some party with Bianca and Hollie early on in our college careers.
“You okay there?” he asks with a smile.
“Yeah, I’m just not used to shots. I’m more of a lemon drop kind of girl.”
