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“I plan to be gone for an hour or two tops,” I reassure him.
“Great. Thanks, Clark. You’re the best,” he says, sighing in relief.
He wouldn’t be thanking me if he knew the fucking filthy thoughts I’ve been having about his baby sister.
“Of course.”
We hang up, just as I’m turning into his driveway. There isn’t a car to be seen, which is good, because I’m not sure I’d even leave the house for this fucking date if I’d ran into Marley first.
I don’t even bother changing, just drop some things from the nursing home off in my bedroom, before heading out again towards Riley’s house.
I made the two of us a reservation at one of the fancier restaurants downtown. I can’t fucking afford this dinner, but it’s the only thing that will be acceptable for her.
I pull into her driveway and get out of the car, walking up to her door. I’ve barely knocked when she swings the door open.
“You’re late,” she snaps.
I glance down at my watch. It’s two minutes after six.
“Don’t fucking start the night like this, please,” I beg her.
“Is that really the way you want to talk to me?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. Can we just try and get along?” I ask, trying to reel in the anger I’m feeling.
She doesn’t say anything, just walks around me towards the car, standing next to the door, waiting for me to come and open it.
The car ride to the restaurant is silent, thankfully. I don’t think I could handle listening to her right now.
“How did you pull this off?” She scoffs.
I ignore her jab and get out of the car, walking around to open the door.
She follows me up to the door. I give the hostess my name and she takes us to a table in the back.
“Oh, I get it now. We got the shittiest fucking seats in the place,” Riley mutters, sitting down before I have the chance to pull the chair out.
“I’ll have a bud light,” I tell the waitress.
Riley glares at me, before ordering a glass of red wine.
“A fucking bud light? Really?” she says as soon as the waitress is out of earshot.
“I’m thirsty,” I say, staring through her, gritting my teeth.
“You could at least try and pretend like you have some class,” she says, lifting the menu up.
There’s not a damn thing in this place that I want, so I order a steak with Riley glaring daggers at me the entire time.
“You really just came here and brought the whole fucking trailer park, didn’t you? A beer and a steak? Unbelievable, Clark,” she huffs.
“Are you done? I’m trying to take you on a date, and you’ve done nothing but talk down to me since I picked you up.”
“I’m requiring at least three dates a week from now on,” she says, completely ignoring everything I just said.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, I’m requiring you to take me out at least three days a week now, Clark. It’s not unreasonable,” she says, sitting back against her chair, crossing her arms over her chest with a smirk.
