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“If I may,” I say, “I’d like to order for you. I know it’s one of those really cheesy things to do on a date, but I don’t want you to miss out.”
“Okay,” she says. “I’m prepared to be wowed.”
I laugh, nodding and accepting my challenge. When the waiter comes, I order a bottle of white wine I know she’ll love, as well as our food. I’ve been here enough times to know what to get without looking at the menu.
Will squints her eyes at me, but she’s grinning as she does so. I don’t know if she’s impressed or annoyed. It’s hard to tell with her sometimes.
I reach across the table, palm up, silently asking for her hand. Her fingers find mine in the middle of the small table, and a light blush spreads over her cheeks.
“I’d like to take you somewhere else after this, if that’s okay?” I edge.
“Of course,” she says.
I bite my lip, staring at her as she stares back. Part of me doesn’t know why I waited so long to do this. Another part of me is shocked she agreed. Then, there’s the small part of me that’s still worried this is a bad idea. I’m running out of parts, but I feel very torn in many different directions.
“I really like that dress on you.” I stop myself there, managing to hold back the rest of my unfiltered thoughts. I don’t tell her I’m wondering if her panties are black, too. I don’t tell her the slit in her dress makes me want to run my hand beneath it. I don’t tell her I’ve been thinking about tonight all day and what will happen when we get back to her apartment. How I’ve been at war with myself over all of this.
“Thank you,” she says. “I like the color of that shirt on you.”
I don’t tell her that the sight of her wearing my shirt and nothing else is something I imagined while buttoning it up. I clear my throat and take a sip of my wine.
“Derek,” she says. My name on her lips is hushed, like it’s a secret she’s telling. “It’s still me. We’re still the same people.”
I understand her meaning and let out something resembling a chuckle and a sigh mixed together. For whatever reason, this simple reassurance is just what I need to ease us into familiar conversation. When the food comes, I watch her carefully, and she nods her approval as she chews her first bite of steak. A couple more bites in and it’s obvious I did a good job ordering for her. She seems to be enjoying it very much.
After I pay the check, we walk out toward the lobby. I place my hand on the small of her back, guiding her, and I feel a small pang of excitement at the simple gesture. I’ve done it dozens of times on dates, but it never felt likethis.
It’s Willette.
I’m touching Willette and it feels different, more significant, not cursory.
The valet attendant hands my keys back to me as I help Willette back into the car. For the few brief seconds I’m apart from her, walking around the car, I feel oddly excited about our next stop. I have a feeling she’ll have a real appreciation for it.
As I turn out of the restaurant parking lot, I reach for her hand again, threading my fingers into hers. I like holding her hand. It’s not something I’ve been into in the past. I don’t recall enjoying the gesture this much, but it’s been…nice.
“So, where are we going?” she asks.
“To the hospital,” I say casually.
Willette’s head snaps around, her eyes studying my face. “Is something wrong?” she asks.
“Nope,” I say. “There’s just something I want to show you.”
ALMOST MAYBES
WILL
Derek pulls into his assigned space in the parking structure next to the hospital. It even has his name on a little sign bolted onto the concrete slab in front of it. It makes sense, but for some reason it throws me off with how…officialit is.
He rounds the car, helping me out once again, and while I’m not used to this sort of chivalry, I think I could get used to it.
Then, he pops the trunk. “Here,” he says, handing me a large tote bag full of small teddy bears and other stuffed animals. He pulls out a second identical bag and slings it over his shoulder before shutting the trunk.
“What are these for?” I ask him.
“You’ll see,” he says, taking the bag back from me and slinging it over his other shoulder.
I don’t know what he’s up to, but I’m intrigued. We make our way through the hospital, garnering a few glances likely due to the way we’re dressed. Or perhaps they’re in shock that the good doctor would be out with someone like me.
