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I nod as she shakes her head again.
“I can’t even think of a comparison. Who kisses cheeks as a thank you?” she says with a groan. She takes a deep breath as if she’s trying to pull herself together. “Thank you for the invitation. I would enjoy going with you.”
She doesn’t notice my stillness as she keeps chattering.
Does she think I asked her on a date?
It isn’t a date. This is strictly a friendly offer. Words are flowing from her mouth, but I don’t hear anything because I’m too busy worrying that I need to clarify our plans.
She pulls the hair tie out of her hair and shakes it loose. “I wonder if I should get my hair done?”
“Get your hair done?” I repeat, trying to focus on the conversation.
“For the concert.”
“If you want.”
“I’ll think about it.” She puts her finger on her chin. “I wonder what I should wear. I can’t go dressed like this.” She points at her leggings and sweatshirt.
“It’s a concert. You can dress however you like.”
“Are you sure?”
“You’ve never been to a concert before?”
“I’ve been to concerts, but never like this. I don’t want to—I don’t know—embarrass you?”
Oh no. She thinks it’s a date. I’m going to have to say it. “This isn’t a date.”
She giggles. “No kidding.”
I don’t know what to make of that, but she doesn’t look upset. Or surprised. “Did you think it was a date?”
This time she outright laughs. “Nope, but I still don’t want to embarrass you.”
Why is she laughing? And why am I suddenly wishing she did think it was a date?
“Just wear whatever you’d wear if you were heading out for a night with your friends. If it doesn’t embarrass you, it won’t embarrass me.”
She nods her head. “I can do that.”
Her relief is short-lived when I say, “I won’t be going as myself, anyway, so you couldn’t embarrass me even if you tried. No one will even know I’m there.”
“Oh,” she responds, looking intrigued. “You have an alter ego or something?”
A little laugh escapes me. “I’m not a secret agent. I’ll just try to keep a low profile.” I pause for a moment. “And to be clear, I would never be embarrassed to be seen with you.”
She freezes for a split second. Then she shakes her head once, and says, “I’m so excited to see Amber Hope in concert!”
TEN
ELLIE
By Thursday morning, I’ve spent more time overthinking Slater’s invitation to go to the concert than I’ve spent sleeping. Okay, that’s probably an exaggeration, but it has been on my mind way too much.
I keep remembering the uncertainty on his face when he told me he wasn’t asking me on a date. I wasn’t offended—more dumbfounded. Has he seen himself? He could do a lot better than an out-of-work psychologist if he were looking for a date.
I roll my eyes and tell myself to chill out as I walk down the busy street toward the juice bar where Slater asked me to meet him.
