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Yeah, I think I probably will.
And it will have nothing to do with ice cream.
Remi:So I was thinking maybe I should giveThe Wizard of Ozanother chance.
I read over the text message Remi sent me a few minutes ago as I was finishing up a session with a particularly difficult case, a welcome smile touching my lips. Sometimes this job can be really emotionally draining, and without even realizing what he’s done, he’s instantly brightened my mood.
It’s been three days since our date, and I’m fairly certain I haven’t stopped thinking about it, in some capacity or another, since the moment he left me standing on my aunt’s front porch, my body about to combust with how happy I felt. And it wasn’t even the unexpected and very hot make-out session against a window overlooking the city that was the highlight for me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was definitely up there in the high points of the evening, but it was really what happened after that pretty much sealed my fate.
The way he held my hand as we walked to his car. The way he kissed my temple before opening the door for me. The way he sat next to me at the ice cream shop instead of across from me so he could be close to me. And don’t even get me started on the whole walking me to my door and kissing me so slowly it was like he truly didn’t want to leave. And trust me, I knew the feeling. Because I’m fairly certain if I had lived alone, the date wouldn’t have ended on the porch, no matter how much I insisted otherwise.
A woman only possesses so much willpower, and trust me when I say that Remi has a way of stretching it to the absolute max.
Me:Oh yeah?
I type out a simple reply, setting the phone back on my desk before pulling up my email. I’ve only managed to get through one when my cell pings with another incoming text message.
Remi:Not the actual movie. No offense, but it’s kind of trash.
Me:Did you just call my favorite movie trash? And if not the movie, then what?
His reply is instant.
Remi:How do you feel about dinner theater?
I bark out a laugh, the sound reverberating off the walls around me. I can’t help it. The vision of him sitting in a too-small chair, watching people dance and sing on stage, is comical at best. Not that men can’t like dinner theater. It’s just... Well, Remi. I don’t know how to explain it. He just doesn’t seem the type at all.
Grateful that I at least closed my office door earlier so no one heard my outburst, I turn my attention back to our message thread.
Me:Dinner theater? You? Why is this a hard image to picture?
Remi:Why is it so hard to picture? I love the arts.
Me:Do you?
Remi:I mean, maybe.
Me:Maybe? You seem unsure.
I chew on my lower lip in an effort to keep my smile at bay, though it does me very little good.
Remi:I can’t say I’ve ever been. But it could be fun. Do you not like the theater?
Me:I actually love the theater.
I’m hit with a memory of the last time I actually attended a theatrical production. It was before my mom got sick. Maybe three years ago. We went to seeWickedfor the fourth time. It was my mom’s favorite. I can’t remember exactly, but I think I was only like four or five the first time she took me to see it. All I remember was how much I loved it and how I made her listen to the soundtrack on repeat the entire drive home.
We saw many productions over the years, but I think to this dayWickedis the one that stands out among all others.
Remi:Then it’s settled.
Me:What is?
Remi:There’s a little place in Alexandria that is doing a production ofThe Wizard of Oz,and I’m taking you to see it.
Me:What if I say no?
I smile to myself, knowing there isn’t a chance in hell I would say no to a second date with Remi, much less to a second date with Remi that includes theater and a live performance of my all-time favorite movie.
