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“Order for me?” I stammered, feeling relieved.
“Too much?”
“Not at all.”
"Great." He and the waiter immediately began discussing different meats and cheeses.
I let my mind wander. This experience was a first, but then everything I did with Rush was new. Sure, I had crushes on boys in grade school. Then, when I was homeschooled, I met guys online via zoom, but they lost interest when they found out why I wasn't attending classes in person. The fucking worst part was I had no one to talk to about it. Mom was thrilled I wasn'tboy crazy, as she called it. And any girlfriends I had dropped me when they realized I couldn't go out and do anything.
A stab of guilt unsettled my stomach. Mom had always looked after me, though. Still, I needed to get a fucking life, as the doctor said. So did my mom.
"Lux," Rush said, calling me back to the present.
"All done?" I asked.
"I need your menu," the waiter said.
"Here you go." I quickly handed it over.
Once Rush, and I were along again, I gave him a sheepish grin. "Thanks for doing that." Rush filled me with a desire to live and try everything.
“No problem. Thanks for letting me." He cleared his throat. "I hope you’re hungry because I ordered a little of everything."
“Can't wait,” I said, hoping the nerves gripping my stomach would abate soon.
“So our game.” He waggled his brows, totally adorable.
“Aren’t we too old for games?”
Another mocked clutch of the chest. “Hell, no. Games are a part of life."
They hadn't been a part of mine. “Go on then. Let's do this." I drummed the table with his fingertips.
"It's called Twenty Questions. I'll go first."
"Sure." My heart spiked and thudded against my chest. What if he asked why I was at the hospital? Did I really want to lie?
“What's your favorite color?”
Relief caused my shoulders to sag. That question I could answer. "Caramel," I said, meeting his eyes. They were the most delicious color. "What's yours?”
"Blue." He chuckled. "I know you're into eighties hair bands." He made a face and laughed harder.
I couldn't help but join in. I was strange, no doubt about it, but he seemed okay with it. "That's true." He'd dropped my hand while ordering, and I clasped mine together.
"What's your favorite song?”
I tilted my head while I thought for a beat. “Depends on my mood.”
“Based on your mood right now, what song do you think goes with it?” His features remained soft, but I felt like he was curious.
The first song that came to mind wasIs This Loveby Whitesnake. I told him.
“That's on the playlist I made for us. We'll have to listen on the way home."
"Really? Most people think it's lame," I admitted, my heart beating more rapidly. Was he wondering whether what we had was love as well? It felt like it to me.
"Not at all. I think it's a great song to describe my mood too."
