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“Violet, you’re smart, kind, and absolutely beautiful inside and out,” he explains as he takes my hand. “Why wouldn’t I want to have dinner with you?”
My brain screams at me to go for it, but my mouth doesn’t listen. “I’d love to, but I’m getting ready to head back to school in a couple days.”
Dang it! Brad Coventry asks you out on a date, and you don’t accept?? Stupid, stupid Violet.
“I understand,” Brad replies despondently. “I figured it was worth a shot.” His eyes lock on mine. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”
My cheeks heat, and my skin flushes. I’ve never been any good at hiding my emotions, and my porcelain skin doesn’t help matters. Brad chuckles but, fortunately, doesn’t comment.
“I-I-I’d love to have dinner with you.” A nervous giggle escapes past my lips.
“Do I make you nervous, Violet?”
“N-no, you just caught me off guard.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be safe with me.” He crosses his heart like a boy scout. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
I laugh. “I’m free Friday night after seven.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty,” he says. “Does that work for you?”
“Yes, I can be ready by then.” My mind is already racing about what to wear and where we might go.
“Do you like Italian?” he asks, breaking into my thoughts. “We can go to this little place I know. They have the best tiramisu.”
“Italian sounds great.”
“What are you kids up to?”
Both Brad and I turn toward the aisle, my mom and dad are standing there, holding hands.
“Pastor Simpson, Mrs. Simpson,” Brad greets them. “I was asking Violet if she’d like to have dinner with me.” He grins. “She put me out of my misery and agreed to go out with me Friday evening.”
“She did?” Mom questions incredulously, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
In her defense, I don’t normally date. I went on a few in high school, but the boys were only after sex or trying to prove that they could get the goody-goody Christian girl into trouble. And my parents raised me to have respect for myself and my future husband.
You save yourself for the one you want to spend your life with.
I have no idea how many times I heard that growing up, but it was enough to make it stick. My peers never understood and would torment me relentlessly, saying I thought I was too good for them. After that, I swore off boys until college. Things weren’t any better in college. The date with Brad will be the first one I’ve gone on in a year and a half.
Brad smiles. “Yes, ma’am, she did.”
“Make sure you have her home at a respectable hour, young man,” Dad scolds.
“Yes, sir, I will.”
“Dad, stop,” I chastise. “I’m twenty-three. I don’t have a curfew, and it’s a Friday night.”
“We know sweetheart, but a respectable gentleman still returns his date home at a decent time,” Mom chimes in.
“Okay, okay.” I stand quickly and usher my parents toward the exit and wave at Brad. “I’ll see you Friday night.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Brad calls.
* * *
Turningin front of the mirror, I take in the pale blue, spaghetti-strapped sundress that I paired with a white cardigan and matching sandals. I dab some tinted gloss to my lips and check my hair to make sure it looks perfect. I’m extremely nervous, and I don’t know why.
