Chapter 13
Otto
First Date?
My palms sweat because this feels like a first date. I didn’t think things through, but now I’m committed. Our destination is a scenic spot, but I’m beginning to get cold feet knowing that Mia isn’t an outdoor girl. I think I’ve blown it again, just like the first time I tried to ask her out.
Mia retrieves one of the dessert containers, lifts the lid, and peers inside. “Oh my! If you don’t mind sugar for dinner, we’ve got enough dessert here to fill us up.”
“There are several food choices where we’re going,” I reply. She tosses me a confused look. I think she’s expecting us to arrive at a restaurant. I’ve blown it big time.
My nerves kick in and the conversation lags while we listen to the radio. Mia stares out the window but doesn’t complain about my choice of music. When the next song starts and it’s a guy singing about buying a boat, I almost turn the channel. At least he’s not singing about a break-up.
The lot is brimming with cars when I pull in. It’s obvious that everyone is out enjoying the beautiful weather. As I find a parking spot, I turn to Mia. “Listen, maybe this was a bad idea,” I say, my knee jiggling with nerves.
“Is this Roosevelt Park? I’ve never been here before,” Mia replies with a touch of excitement in her voice. “This is perfect! We can observe kids playing in a park setting. It’s a great idea, Otto!”
The natural surroundings are really stunning with the park located in a valley between craggy rock cliffs and tree dotted hills. Summer has turned the park’s lush grass a deep green. There’s a playground in the center and there are picnic tables scattered throughout.
Jutting my chin towards her feet, I say, “Except you’re wearing heels, and that tight skirt, and...” I cut myself off before I spout out about her clingy shirt that gave me a few peekaboo’s of her cleavage earlier. In that sexy outfit with her hair tumbling around her shoulders, she looks nothing like her usual prim and proper self. Gulp!
No wonder Felix kissed her hand. Is this my opportunity to finally get that first kiss?
She laughs. “I’ve got my yoga outfit and sneakers in my laptop bag. If they have restrooms, I’ll change.” Grabbing the bag at her feet, she starts to scramble out of the truck.
“Wait! Let me come around and help you out.” Safety first, of course, not that I want to feel her in my arms again.
I assist her in a gentlemanly manner, trying not to stare at her incredible legs as she slides off the seat. Safely on the ground, she grabs her bag. “I’ll just be a minute!” she says making a beeline to the bright blue restroom building at the other side of the parking area. As I stare at her retreating back in that sexy outfit, I feel a twinge of disappointment that we didn’t get to dine at Le Chateau Gourmand. Maybe I’ll take her back there someday.
The happy noise of squealing, laughing kids grabs my attention. I do a little people watching as I wait for my companion. There’s a plethora of playground equipment to play on. Parents push kids on swings and a structure in the shape of a pirate ship has several sets of stairs, slides, and crawling tubes that kids are swarming all over. Even though the park is well-equipped, it’s obvious that not every kid can play here because of accessibility issues.
“I’m ready,” Mia says, making me jump. My eyes bug out of my head and my heart does a summersault as I look her over. Wowza! This is a version of Mia I haven’t seen before.
“I tried to mix and match. Does it work?” she asks, uncertainty written on her pretty face.
Clearing my throat, I blurt out, “Heck yeah!” She kept the skirt but paired it with a T-shirt and sneakers. It’s the sexiest combination I’ve ever seen. The air temperature around me goes up several degrees.
“I wanted to match your outfit,” she says, nodding towards my suit which I had forgotten I’m still wearing.
“I need to make a couple adjustments,” I reply as I shrug out of my jacket, roll up my sleeves, and loosen my tie. We head back to my truck, where Mia drops off her laptop bag and I ditch the jacket and tie. Holding up the dessert containers, I say, “We can’t forget these!” Mia grins.
Pointing to the row of food trucks lined up on the other side of the park. “Let’s get something from one of the trucks and then find a picnic table.”
We walk in companionable silence across the park, the thick grass and uneven surface causing us to pick our way carefully.
“Thank goodness I’m not wearing those heels,” Mia observes with a chuckle. “Sounds like everyone is having fun,” she adds, smiling at all the play taking place around us.
“What’s your pleasure?” I say, gesturing towards the line of food trucks. “Looks like our choices are hot dogs, BBQ, or tacos.” My steps falter, expecting her to turn her nose up at the plebian offerings.
She grabs my arm and without hesitation says, “I’m hungry for a hot dog!” Mia tugs my arm and pulls me towards the brightly colored green, yellow, and orange truck with the words “The Dog House” splashed all over the sides. We wait for a family in line ahead of us to get their food, then Mia and I step up to the window.
“What’ll you have?” A burly-looking guy says pointing to a menu above his head.
We both read the menu while the guy wipes up a counter behind him. I’ve never heard of some of these weird topping combinations.
“Ready? This isn’t a life and death decision,” the man grumbles in a snarly tone.
“I’ll have your Mediterranean dog with all the toppings and a Coke,” Mia says.
“What about you?”
“Footlong with mustard, ketchup, and relish, and a Coke,” I say.
Elbowing me in the ribs, Mia laughs and says, “Wimp!”
“I’m a traditionalist. Unlike you who apparently likes cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, kalamata olives, and feta on your dog,” I vocalize the ingredients listed on the menu.
“What can I say, today I’m living on the wild side,” she says with a shrug.
The man hands both of our orders to Mia since my hands are holding the dessert containers. “Do you have any napkins?” she asks in a prim voice. When the guy hands her two napkins, she waggles her fingers. “Come on now! He’s going to need at least ten,” she teases while nodding towards me. The guy grunts and hands her a thick stack that she transfers on to me. The food truck server is certainly not vying for Mr. Congeniality.
“That will be $20.68.”
Mia whips a credit card from her pocket.
“My treat,” I interject before she has a chance to hand the man her card.
“You’re not paying,” Mia counters, thrusting her card through the window.
“Mia, don’t be pigheaded,” I fire back.
She glares at me in a manner I’ve seen before. This battle isn’t worth fighting, so I stand down. “Thank you. I’ll pay next time.”
Without another word, Mia pays and marches off in search of a picnic table. I hustle to keep up, carrying the dessert containers and that ridiculous stack of napkins. She finds an open table and tries to sit down. She lifts her left leg one...two...three times, but in the tight skirt she’s too constricted to lift her leg high enough to clear the bench. She frowns, sets the order down—nearly spilling one of the sodas—hitches her skirt up to her thighs, flings her leg over the bench, and sits. My heart tries to recover from that remarkable view of her long legs as I take a seat across from her.
“Traditional, boring footlong,” Mia says as she deposits the red and white checkered cardboard box containing my dog in front of me. I snag one of the Cokes, sliding it over beside the dog.
“Napkins for the nontraditional eater. All those toppings are going to cause a mess,” I say, placing the thick stack in front of her.
She carefully plucks exactly two from the stack, then pushes the napkins back across the table. “I’m sure you need these more than I do.”
Grunting, I accept the napkins and call a silent truce about who needs them more. Taking a huge bite of dog, I savor the flavors. It tastes very similar to what you get at a ballpark. We eat, enjoying our hot dogs and ice-cold Cokes—a tantalizing combination for a picnic.
“How’s that weird Mediterranean dog?” I ask when I’m about halfway done with my own footlong.
“Very tasty,” Mia replies.
“Brave of you to eat it with your bare hands and not use a knife and a fork,” I add with a smirk.
“Hot dogs are meant to be finger food,” she says tossing me a haughty look.
I laugh and shake my head. “As opposed to burgers?”
A smile bursts forth and she giggles. “You got me there.”
We swap goofy looks, both enjoying the food and this snarky competition. Mia sure holds her own in coming up with the snarkiest comments.
It doesn’t take long for us to devour our hot dogs. I open the dessert containers and place them on the middle of the table. It’s a good thing that Edward included forks because I’m sure Mia would refuse to eat these with her bare hands.
“Let’s split each one. Grab a fork and dig in,” I say as I procure a forkful of cake from the first container.
“You want to eat out of the same container?” she squeaks, as if appalled at the thought.
“Is that a problem? Are you afraid of boy germs?”
She rolls her eyes, swipes a plastic fork, and takes a giant bite of what I’m eating—chocolate cake decorated with loads of chocolate frosting. “So yummy!” she declares, closing her eyes and groaning while savoring the bite.
Watching her eat that decadent cake makes my heart flip in my chest. Taking another bite, I join her in gastronomical ecstasy. We polish off both containers in a matter of minutes.
“I’m about to fall into a sugar and chocolate induced coma. I need to take a walk,” I say as I round up our trash.
Mia holds her stomach. “Why did you let me eat all that?” she complains. “I’m not sure kalamata olives and feta combine very well with chocolate,” she adds with a grimace.
I laugh. “Do you need a minute before we walk around?” Maybe we should stay near the restrooms?
She groans and stands. “A walk might make me feel better,” she says as we bus our trash to the nearest garbage can. “Besides, I want to watch the kids on the playground for a few minutes.” She steers our walk towards the center of the park.
From this closer vantage point, I watch how the kids play on the pirate structure, enjoying all the different levels. I wish they had things like this when I was a kid. We had metal jungle gyms and monkey bars, neither of which were very safe for climbing. But we still did so. My best friend broke his arm when he fell from the monkey bars and landed on the asphalt playground.
“No wonder Nora doesn’t want to bring Madison here. It just emphasizes all the things Madison can’t do,” Mia says a few minutes later, a melancholy tone leaking from her voice. She squeezes my arm. “Otto, we really need for this fundraiser to be a success.”
“It will be,” I assure her. Our eyes lock and she licks her luscious red lips. We’re standing under a large oak tree, taking advantage of the shade. I lean my back against the tree and pull Mia closer, enclosing her tightly in my arms. Her hands land on my chest and she blinks up at me. “Do you still taste like chocolate?” I whisper, as I lean my head slowly towards her, our lips hovering less than an inch apart. My breath mingles with hers as we gaze at each other, wondering who is going to close the distance between our lips and complete the kiss. Time seems to stand still.
“Yo! Otto and Mia!” a voice I recognize well yells from a few feet away.
Mia squeezes her eyes shut and sighs. I pull back from the kiss and turn to face our visitor. “Joey, what are you doing here?” I ask, my voice revealing my frustration over my housemate breaking up another almost kiss.
“I’m watching my sister’s kids and decided to bring them to the park,” Joey replies, clueless as to what he just did. He points to two kids climbing on the pirate ship. “We’re heading to the swings next. Do you want to join us?”
I glance at Mia. “Shall we go over to the swings?”
She nods. “Sure.”
Joey calls his niece and nephew and makes introductions. “This is Scott and Katie,” he says while the kids smile shyly at us. “You already know Otto, and this is Mia.”
Not knowing either one of them well, I give them both a finger wave. Joey brought them over to the house a couple times, but what I remember is they played video games and made a lot of noise.
“Nice to meet you,” Mia says, in a stiff and formal tone. I chuckle when it looks like she’s about to extend her hand for a handshake, then thinks better of it.
Scott hangs back, but Katie skips forward and grabs Mia’s hand. “Can you push me? I like to fly high,” she says excitedly. Mia smiles and the two head off to the swings, chattering happily about something. Joey, Scott, and I follow at a more sedate pace.
Every time I feel like I’ve broken through Mia’s defenses—she obviously wanted me to kiss her—someone interrupts and puts us back at square one. One step forward, two steps back, as they say. Maybe we’re not supposed to be anything other than colleagues.