Chapter 4 Eat Your Heart Out
Lydea
Champ leads me to an empty picnic table, grabbing the trash someone left and tossing it into the nearby can. He sits down across from me, and the way he looks at me takes all the breath out of my body.
He’s not looking at me like he wants anything from me.
He’s looking at me like he sees me. Like I'm the most interesting thing out here tonight. And I’m definitely not.
There’s a couple yelling loudly at each other just across from us because one of them ate the last taco.
It’s distracting and jolting, and he barely seems to notice.
“What are you getting into when you get home?”
I tilt my head and look up at him through my lashes. “My shower, then my bed.”
“It’s not even nighttime yet.”
“Sometimes you gotta put the day to bed.”
“Today’s been that bad?” His smile reveals a perfect set of teeth.
“You know, I’m starting to forget bits and pieces of it.” I unwrap one of the tacos and take a bite. A moan escapes before I can rein it in.
Champ licks his lips and watches me chew, and I don’t feel weird about him watching. The taco is just that good.
“Well, now my night is perfect.” I say between chews.
“Because of the tacos?” Champ’s head tilts to the side.
“Tacos added some major points.”
“I love a point system,” he tells me, shifting in his seat.
“Oh yeah?”
He unwraps and bites his taco, and the thoughts in my mind vanish. Yes. He’s objectively handsome. And funny. And sweet.
Dammit though, he’s sexy.
Biting a taco has never turned me on, but I’d hop in the back seat of his little hybrid car right now with him, if he asked me to.
He wouldn’t though. And that makes me want him more.
He’s just being nice. He could tell I had a rough date, and he’s trying to smooth it out. That’s all. It’s all for a five star rating. Little does he know, I’m easy and if you get me home safely, you get five stars.
“Yeah, I rate hairlines and shoes and dates with a point system.”
“How do you do dates? Let’s rate mine.”
He wipes his hands in a napkin and rubs his hand together. “Now you’re talking.”
I pull a leg up under me and get comfortable.
“So everyone starts with 100. If you get below passing, you’re out.”
I nod. “That makes sense.”
“Cool, so what did homie do when you walked in?”
“He stood up and commented that my ass is fatter than he thought.”
Champs eyes go wide, then he nods a little.
I slap his arm.
“Dude ain’t wrong, but that’s an inside thought. We deduct 5 points for not pulling your chair out, and another 5 for not greeting you properly.”
Frowning, I ask, “Does everything have the same weight?”
“No, but I know he’s about to get a zero, and I want to lay it all out.”
“You’re just dragging me for staying as long as I did.”
“If you’d left any earlier, we wouldn’t be right here.”
Add 10 points for that line to Champ’s scorecard.
Eventually, Frank gets a -15, and I get a mini lecture about knowing my worth.
“Tell me about your worst date?”
He scrubs his hand down his face. “Please no.”
I laugh and reach for his forearm, giving it a squeeze. “Oh, now you have to tell me.”
He puts his elbows on the table and rests his face in his hand. “I thought it was dinner for two. She seemed cool. We coordinated the date a week in advance. She should’ve been straight.”
I hold my breath because I have no idea where he’s going with this.
“She comes into the restaurant, up to our table for two with her three kids.”
“Shut the hell up!”
He raises his hand in the air, then crosses his heart with one. “Swear.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, they had to move us to a booth, bust out the kids’ menus and a booster seat for her toddler.”
I shake my head. The nerve of that woman.
“I don’t think I mind a woman with kids. It’s not a non-negotiable, but I didn’t know we were having family dinner.”
“How could you? Did you even know she had kids?”
He sits up straight and puts both hands flat on the table. “No!”
I burst into laughter. That takes balls.
“So, did you start your point system?”
He shakes his head vigorously. “No, her tween did. That little boy roasted me from head to toe. I have never been so self-conscious in my life.”
Now, I’m laughing so hard tears stream down my face.
“It’s not that funny.”
“But it is! I can see you getting tore up by a kid who probably doesn’t wipe his ass good!”
“You didn’t have to go there. Damn.” His eyes twinkle and the corners of his mouth quirk up.
“Excuse me,” a man says, approaching our table with a card in his hand. “I’ve been taking candid photos of the two of you.”
Champ’s eyes go wide.
“I have a website–”
“Come on, man!”
“Whoa! Not like that. I like to capture quiet moments between couples and post them–with permission. You’ll find your pictures if you scan this QR code, and you can choose if you want me to post them or not.”
“?” I ask.
“Yeah? Have you seen it before?”
I have. His photos capture so much. I’m scared to look at ours. We aren’t even on a date.
“Oh, I know your site!” Champ finally comes around. “You think we're on a perfect date?”
“Look at the pictures and see for yourselves.” He taps the card on the table and walks away. We both look down at the card, then back at each other.