“Good, because I like that boy, and I’d hate for Jake to mess up that pretty nose of his.”
I sputter a laugh. “Me too.”
After a few minutes, I tell Mom I’ve got to run so I can get ready for my date. It’s hard to put into words the way I feel after hanging up with her, knowing what all my family has done for me over the past five years. I feel like someone has injected something warm and gooey into my heart of stone.
Knowing that Ryan is probably waiting on me, I quickly change into an outfit that makes me feel like a sexy woman (a soft cream sweater, high-waisted jeans, and my hair curled in long waves). I step out of my room and find Ryan in the hallway, wearing a suit—one that makes my mouth drop open and drag across the floor as I turn a circle and start to back up into my room to change.
“Whoa, come back here.” He grabs my arms and tugs me around.
Yep. He’s just as blinding the second time I see him as the first. His suit is dark gray and fits him like a glove. Underneath the suit jacket of my dreams is a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top, giving him a just-got-off-work-from-my-superprestigious-job look. I will dream of him in this outfit every night for the rest of the month.
“You are way dressier than me,” I say, dismay drenching my tone.
His smile deepens, and he pulls me in close to him. I can smell his cologne. It’s smooth like expensive bourbon, and I drink him in, getting drunk off it.
“You look perfect,” he says against my cheek.
I want to say thank you, but instead, some little mouse speaks. It can’t be me because the voice is too high-pitched and embarrassing.
Ryan kisses my cheek and holds out his arm for me to take. We look like a couple going to prom in this pose, but I don’t care. It actually just makes me wish Ryan had been the one to take me to prom. Wearing this suit. And drenched in this cologne. Never mind, I would have become a teen mom.
In the living room, Ryan stops. I thought we would head for the door, but instead, he’s turning us toward the living room. That’s when I spot cheap Chinese takeout on the coffee table and My Best Friend’s Wedding queued up on the TV. He’s poured us two glasses of wine, and it almost looks as if this is where we are having our date.
Now, I don’t mean to be a snobby person who demands a fine-dining experience for their dates, but I really expected something more captivating than fried rice and a chick flick.
“Your face right now is priceless.”
Ryan’s words sink in, and a relieved smile splits across my mouth. I look up at him, laughing. “OH! This was a joke. Whew. You got me. I really thought—” I break off when Ryan’s grin doesn’t turn into a laugh with me. “Oh, gosh. It’s not a joke, is it?”
He shakes his head, and I want to melt into the earth. My face turns into lava as I begin to extract my foot from my mouth. Racing over to the coffee table, I cradle the Chinese food in my hands like it’s a delicate peace offering given to me from a foreign leader. It’s sacred. I will treasure it forever. “This is…perfect! Just perfect!”
Ryan is still standing in his same spot, wearing his same smirk, but with his hands in his pockets. Someone should take a picture of him and send it to Vogue. He’s gorgeous, and I don’t want to lose him. I plop down onto the offensive couch and manage to not even wince a little when it bruises my rear.
I pat the seat next to me with an overly bright smile. “Let’s get this date going.”
Now he’s holding back a laugh. I’m the silliest thing he’s ever seen.
Ryan walks over to me. “Set the food down, June.” I wish he wasn’t so confident all the time. He’s the one who planned a terrible first date, and yet I’m the one who wants to crawl under the table. Ryan extends his hand, and I take it, standing up. He puts both his hands on my jaw and bends down to kiss me slowly. Smoothly. Tantalizingly.
I do melt into the floor this time.
I’m a dollop of Crisco dropped into a hot skillet. Ryan pulls away, and I see not hurt, not embarrassment, not sadness. A smile. “You don’t remember, do you?” he asks.
My stomach falls like it does in the middle of a thriller movie when I thought I had the plot all figured out, and then suddenly, it shifts.
I shake my head. “Remember what?”
“Our class trip to Chicago for our tenth-grade debate.”
“I remember the trip, but…” What does that have to do with anything?
Ryan shifts his arms around my waist. “We were all on the subway, headed back to our hotel, and I told you, Stacy, and Logan that Jennifer Summers had passed me a note saying she liked me. You rolled your eyes, so I accused you of being jealous.”
And just like that, I remember. I remember wanting to stomp across that subway car and rip that girl’s hair out.
“You looked me right in the eyes and said something like, You couldn’t pay me a million dollars to date you, Ryan Henderson. Mark my words. One day, I will move to this city and date a sophisticated man and—”
“I’ll be a sophisticated, sexy woman, and he will pick up Chinese takeout after work and bring it back to our fancy apartment, and he’ll be wearing a fancy suit from his fancy job, and we will drink fancy wine and watch my favorite movie.” A laugh bubbles through me.
“And then I told you that you could never be sophisticated like that. Or something to that extent. I can’t believe I said that. Or that I remember it.”
He’s chuckling, too, now. “As if Chinese takeout and fancy wine is the most sophisticated and grown-up thing in the world.”
I pull away from Ryan enough to look at our first date with new eyes. Eyes that are glistening and wet with unshed tears. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”
“I couldn’t forget it.”
I turn back to Ryan. “Wait. Did you move here because of that?” I ask.
“No. Believe it or not, I wasn’t at that epic level of pining. It was a happy coincidence that the best job offer happened to be here.”
“More than coincidence. Fate.” I’m smiling like a fool at my cheesy line, but I don’t care.
Ryan looks down at me and runs the backs of his knuckles against my jaw. “I would be lying, though, if I said I didn’t hope to run into you now and then, thinking that just maybe you would move here, and we’d be reunited in some tiny coffee shop at an odd hour.”
I reach up and clasp my hands behind his neck. “Such a romantic.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
