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He’s going to be here in less than ten minutes! I touch up my lip gloss and spray a little perfume on before turning my light off and walking to the living room.
Dad walks inside with Lance right behind him. I’m trembling because Lance looks so handsome. He’s wearing a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His arms are adorned with tattoos, and it’s not like I’ve never noticed them before. Hell, I’m used to seeing them, but they stand out brightly against the black of his shirt.
I grab my purse off the coffee table and hug my parents. Lance gives them a wave and pulls my hand into his as we walk out the door.
I buckle my seatbelt and sit there waiting for him to get in and start the truck. I want to ask where we are going, but the more I think about it, I prefer the element of surprise. His engine roars to life and Taylor Swift is playing loudly through the speakers. He chuckles, his face transforming into a shade of pink as he turns the volume down. I stifle a laugh as he grabs my hand and brings my knuckles up to his lips.
“I like the song. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not like I haven’t heard you sing “Shake It Off” before,” I remind him.
He nods his head, grinning, as we begin driving down the road.
I let go of his hand for a split second to turn up the radio, and I begin singing along with the song. He turns his head to look at me, probably making sure I haven’t lost my mind before he joins me.
He pulls into a restaurant parking lot and parks the truck.
Mmm, Italian. My stomach growls at the thought of a big plate of chicken alfredo. I can practically taste it and we haven’t even gotten out of the truck. He leans in, giving me a soft kiss on the cheek.
“Are you hungry? I should have asked before I drove here but I sort of assumed we could grab dinner.”
“I’m famished.”
Inside, the hostess sits us, and the waiter comes shortly to take our drink order. The girl tries shamelessly to flirt with Lance but he doesn’t pay her any attention. He tells her we both want a glass of sweet tea with lemon and never takes his focus off of me.
Take that, blondie.
Moments later she returns with the drinks and we order our food. The chicken alfredo is just as amazing as I imagined it would be. It’s so good, I don’t leave a single bite behind. We make small talk during dinner but with the way the waitress keeps popping up at the most awkward times, we don’t really talk about much.
So far, this is much better than the first date. When we return to the truck after he pays the bill, he opens the door for me. “I’ve been trying to think of what else we can do but I’m out of ideas. I’m not good at this date thing. I think I may have told you that the first time.”
“Yeah, you did. It’s fine. We can just go with the flow, you know, see where we end up.”
“I still live with my dad, or I’d say we could go back to my house and talk.” He climbs into his side and shuts the door, then starts the engine.
“We can’t go to a bar because of the baby.” I don’t want our date to end, but what the hell are we supposed to do?
“We could go bowling.”
My eyes light up. “Oh, that sounds fun. I haven’t done that in a long time. Let’s do that!”
“You’ve got it, sweetheart.” He takes a left at the next green light. I can’t believe I forgot about bowling.
“Oh shit, I don’t have any socks. I’ll have to buy a pair at the bowling alley.”
“If you don’t mind, I keep a clean change of clothes in my gym bag. You can wear my socks if you want. Remember, I did say they are clean.” He laughs.
“Sure, I mean if you don’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want you to wear them. My feet don’t stink or anything if that’s what you’re worried about, and neither does my gym bag.”
He parks the truck and turns around to reach his bag in the back seat. I hear the sound of the zipper opening and closing before he tosses a clean pair of socks to me. I catch them in one hand and hold them as we walk inside. The sound of the balls crashing into the pins fills the air and the sweet aroma of bowling alley food permeates my nose. If I hadn’t just eaten, I’d want a pizza.
Lance pays for our shoes and at least two games to begin with. We walk down to the lane, and as he sets our names up on the screen, I take my sandals off and slip into his socks and the bowling shoes.
He put my name first, so I select a red ball that is just the right weight. I focus on the pins in front, thinking about how I want to beat him. I walk up to the line, crossing my left foot behind my right and let the ball slip gracefully from my fingers. It slides with ease down the lane, crashing into the pins. Only four of them fall, much to my dismay, and now I have to try to get the spare. I miss the other pins and the ball goes straight into the gutter. I glare at the remaining pins before turning away and sulking over to one of the chairs. Lance laughs as he picks up the black ball he chose and makes a strike without a single flaw.
“Not fair. You cheated.” I continue to sulk.
