Chapter 59 Your Gravity
Your Gravity
Maisie
“You look adorable!” Angie squeals, her blonde curls bouncing as she jumps and claps enthusiastically.
I found a black-and-white polka-dot poodle skirt at our local thrift store.
It felt like kismet. Luckily, Angie had a similar headband to accessorize with.
I had a white tank top blouse that passed well enough, and my mom paid for some bobby socks and black and white saddle shoes online.
She even paid extra to have them express shipped to make it on time.
“Final touch time! Purse your lips,” Angie says through her own pursed lips that I’m to mimic. I laugh but do as she says. Once she’s masterfully swiped the red lipstick on and presented me with a tissue to blot, I turn to look at myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the door.
A blush creeps up my cheeks. I look a little ridiculous, like I’m playing dress-up, but I also feel pretty all done up for a date. I know Connor will think it’s cute simply because of his “old-person” energy.
As if his ears were burning, a knock sounds at the door. He’s here to pick me up like we planned.
When I swing open the door, my jaw nearly drops to the floor.
He looks like he just stepped out of the movie Grease.
He’s in nearly black jeans, a perfectly fitted white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket.
There’s clearly some gel in his hair, and he even has a pair of sunglasses draped along the front of his shirt.
I didn’t know I had a thing for this look, but he’s so handsome.
Maybe it’s not the look—maybe it’s all him.
“Wow, you look…wow,” he says, stepping through the door and closing it behind him, never taking his eyes off me. His pointed perusal is a brand across my skin in all the places it’s exposed, but especially where it’s not.
My fingers twitch with nervous energy. We’re really doing this. Our first date. It’s real. While we haven’t made any promises to one another, this is a huge step. Particularly for me.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I answer and toe the rounded tip of my shoe into the ground, rocking it side to side, hands clasped behind my back.
“Should we get going?” he asks casually.
“Yes! Let me grab my bag.” I race over to my bed to grab the red jeweled clutch I also found at the thrift store. Like I said, kismet. “Okay, ready!” I hold it up triumphantly.
Angie, propped up against her bed, grins from ear to ear. “You two have fun now, ya hear? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She waves like a mother seeing her baby off on her first date.
I snort. There isn’t much she wouldn’t do, so the sentiment is a bit moot.
The GPS tells us we’ve arrived as we pull up to a series of slightly run-down, white-drenched buildings set back on a grassy lawn.
The pebbled driveway that led us here loops in a circle around each structure, but there is a small parking lot off to the left, which I guess is where we’re meant to park.
Tall trees surround the property on all sides, with iron benches sprinkled along the walkways, yard, and so on.
The sign out front of the main building reads “Meadowview Manor” in gaudy, loopy script.
Underneath, it features “Caring for you like family.”
When I searched for a sock hop, I didn’t pay much attention to where it was, just that it existed. Apparently, I should have, though, because we’re at a retirement home. Our first date is at a retirement home.
My shoulders fall, embarrassment seeping into my veins like an unwanted drug. I’m about to tell Connor we can just go back to the dorm when he bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking.
“Only us,” he says and swiftly exits his side of the car. I’m left dumbfounded as he makes his way around to my side. He extends a hand as he opens my car door. “My Queen?”
A laugh spills out of me, too. “I could get used to this queen treatment,” I say with a wink.
“That’s the goal,” he replies, dead serious.
I gulp. I was joking, but he means it. And I know he does because he has treated me like a queen, even in our friendship.
Could it be possible he would keep that up if we started dating?
No, right? It would stop once we were officially an item.
Like all relationships. A small voice in my head says, Maybe it doesn’t have to.
Maybe this is what real love looks like.
Connor waits patiently through my inner turmoil, still holding his hand out gallantly for me. I take it, and electricity filters down my arm at his touch.
When he hauls me and my big skirt from the car, he wraps an arm around my waist and closes my door for me.
He leans into my space and whispers in my ear, “We’re going to have a great time because you’re here.
Wherever you are is where I want to be. Whether in the pool, getting ice cream, stuck in a hotel, or at a freaking nursing home, it doesn’t matter.
You’re everything, Maize. I’m just thankful to be pulled into your gravity.
” He kisses my cheek, and the innocent touch still sends heat throughout my entire body.
“Now, let’s go dance.” He takes my hand and pulls me toward the main building.
And I know the lingering warmth isn’t from the temperature outside.