Chapter 18
An hour later, everyone had finished dinner, and, as promised, Barb returned. The flush from earlier had faded, and the empty champagne glass was nowhere to be seen.
Chairs scraped across the hardwood floor as the guests helped make space in the living room. Two of their colleagues shoved the beverages table against the wall.
“Wait!” Barb’s daughter said. “You’ll bruise your elbows on the hardwood floor!” She hurried off and returned with yoga mats that she spread out on the floor.
Some of the guests gave them incredulous stares, while others leaned forward eagerly, not wanting to miss a second of this unusual spectacle.
Celeste stood at the edge of the cleared space, arms crossed, brows knitted together. “I’m not sure I should be allowing this.”
Barb’s husband patted her arm and whispered something to her.
“I can’t believe we agreed to this,” Willow murmured out of the corner of her mouth.
“Yeah, me neither.” Guilt pricked at Scottie. She felt bad about humiliating Barb at her retirement party. “Are you sure about this?” she asked Barb. “It’s not too late to back out.”
Barb firmly shook her head. “Oh, no, I’m not backing out. Are you?”
Scottie looked at Willow.
“It’s just one practice date, right?” Willow asked.
“Well,” Barb replied, “I’d say as many as Scottie needs to feel confident she’s knocked the rust off.”
“One is fine,” Scottie said quickly. “That’s all I need. I’m a fast learner. Besides, we’ll win this.”
Willow nodded. “Right. Let’s do this.”
Scottie lowered herself to the floor while Willow gracefully slid onto the mat opposite of hers.
Barb eased herself down with unexpected limberness.
“Ready?” Barb’s husband, George, asked. “On my count. Three… Two… One… Go!”
Scottie tensed her belly muscles and pushed up into the planking position. God, she hadn’t done this in ages. Ironically, she was as rusty at planking as she was at dating! She peered at Willow.
Willow’s form was a work of art. Her planking form, of course. She looked as if she belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine. It took all of Scottie’s willpower not to stare.
Focus!
Seconds dragged by painfully slowly.
“Thirty seconds!” George shouted.
Not bad. At least she’d made it this far. But she was starting to struggle. Her shoulders and core muscles burned. The others had to feel it too, right? She peeked at Willow again.
Willow’s fair face was slowly turning red. Her jaw was tight.
Scottie sent her an encouraging smile—that probably looked more like a grimace—and glanced to her left.
Barb held her position perfectly. Her breathing was even and her arms steady.
What the hell? Scottie’s own arms were starting to quiver. Her abs burned. Her shoulders screamed.
“Forty-five seconds!” George shouted.
Their colleagues cheered and clapped. “Barb! Barb! Barb!”
Traitors. Scottie didn’t have the strength to glare at them. Her hips dipped, but she fought her body back up. She risked another glance at Barb.
The damn woman was smirking!
“Shit,” Scottie mouthed to Willow, who nodded weakly.
Her arms were trembling too.
At least Scottie wasn’t the only one struggling. She gritted her teeth and tried to hang on, not wanting to embarrass herself in front of Willow.
But it was a losing battle. Just as George shouted, “One minute,” Scottie’s arms gave out, and she collapsed onto her belly with a muffled curse.
A second later, Willow landed on the floor too.
Breathing hard, Scottie rolled onto her back and stared up at the helium balloons.
The room erupted in cheers.
Finally, Scottie sat up.
Barb rose to her feet in one smooth motion and triumphantly raised her arms in the air, to the applause of their colleagues. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes sparkled. “I still hold the planking record down at the rec center. Did I forget to mention that?”
“Yep, you sure did.” Scottie got up and shook out her arms.
Willow was already standing. Several strands of hair had escaped the loose twist pinned to the back of her head, and a few fine wisps curled at her damp temples. Somehow, she still managed to look graceful, though. She gave Scottie an incredulous stare. “What happened?”
“We were played,” Scottie replied.
“Nah.” Barb laughed. “I won fair and square. Guess that means you two will go on a date.”
Scottie’s stomach flipped. Her mouth went so dry that she longed to stick her entire head in the pitcher of iced tea on the beverages table. She had been so sure they’d win against their sixty-something colleague that she hadn’t let herself think about what it would mean if they lost.
She would have to go on a date with Willow Greene.
Not that it was an awful thought. In fact, it wasn’t awful at all, and that was part of the problem.
As Willow had reaffirmed in the staircase last month, she wasn’t into dating or relationships, and Scottie’s heart was still healing and would bruise easily. This was not a good idea.
But beneath the dread, an undeniable spark of excitement flickered to life at the thought of taking Willow out.
Scottie smothered it mercilessly. It would be a practice date, not the real deal.
“Practice date,” Willow corrected as if she’d been thinking along the same lines.
Barb waved her hand. “Tomayto, tomahto. Now, who’s ready for some cake? I burned a lot of calories!”
~ ~ ~
The last of the guests filed out of Barb’s home, laughing and waving. Scottie and Willow brought up the rear.
The rain had stopped, but the pavement still glistened under the streetlights. Scottie paused at the edge of the porch and breathed in the damp air.
“Wow,” Willow said as she joined her. “I don’t think I’ve ever been the last to leave a party!”
Scottie smiled. She liked to believe that she had something to do with making the party more bearable—maybe even enjoyable—and that Willow hadn’t stayed just for the food. “Well, there’s a first time for everything. Who knows, maybe you’ll even start to like parties.”
“I highly doubt it.” Willow stepped off the porch, and Scottie followed.
“Where did you park?”
Willow gestured vaguely down the street. “A couple of blocks that way.”
It was darker in that direction, just a few old streetlights casting a weak glow onto the wet sidewalk.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Scottie said.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
They set off down the street side by side. Their footsteps splashed through shallow puddles, but otherwise, the neighborhood lay in silence.
Willow hunched her shoulders against the damp chill. Under an old maple tree, she finally stopped and pulled a set of keys from her coat pocket.
“Wait, this is your car?” Scottie pointed at the fire-engine-red, boxy Honda, which was older than either of them. She had caught a glimpse of it the night of their elevator ordeal, but she hadn’t gotten a good look at it then—maybe because her head had still been spinning from their short kiss.
Now she cupped her hands around the driver’s side window to peer inside. Were those vinyl seats and a stick shift jutting out from the floor? It was too dark to be sure.
Willow shifted her weight beside her. “Don’t laugh. I know it’s old, but it’s very reliable.”
“I’m not laughing,” Scottie said. “And it’s not old—it’s retro, just like your Nokia. It has personality. Kind of like—” She stopped herself before she could compare Willow to an old car. “Anyway, I love classic cars and would never laugh at a ’78 Civic. That’s what it is, right?”
Willow blinked. “Yes. How did you know?”
“My dad loves old cars. I grew up tinkering with them.”
“Oh, that’s cool,” Willow said, sounding as if she meant it.
Silence settled between them, interrupted only by the distant splash of tires cutting through a puddle.
Scottie shoved her hands into her pockets. “So…should we swap numbers so we can figure out when and where for our practice date?” She pulled out her phone and held it out so Willow could enter her number.
Willow hesitated. She kept her hands buried in her coat pockets. “Um…”
Did she regret accepting Barb’s challenge and having to go on a date? Scottie bit her lip. “Look. I know you’re not dating. If this practice date thing makes you uncomfortable, I could talk to Barb and—”
“No,” Willow said quickly. “It’s fine. We’re both on the same page. We know it’s not real. It’s just a trial run. Besides, I still owe you a coffee.”
“Coffee?” Scottie asked. “Is that what you want to do for our date…practice date? Go get coffee?”
Willow shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the local. Why don’t you pick something? I’m fine with anything.”
“Okay.” Scottie’s mind was already flipping through options. She wanted something fun that Willow would enjoy yet that didn’t scream Date with a capital D. A candlelit dinner or a romantic stroll through the Lan Su Chinese Garden were out. “I’ll think of something and surprise you.”
“All right.” Willow pulled out a small notepad from her ever-present giant purse, wrote something down, and tore off the sheet before handing it to Scottie, careful not to brush her hand in the process.
Scottie stared at the neat row of digits.
“Is that your phone number? Why didn’t you just type it into my phone?
” Did she have a problem with germs and thought Scottie’s screen was greasy?
But Willow had sat on the elevator floor and had shared a mini picnic with her—not something a germaphobe would do.
Willow shuffled her feet. “Maybe I’m retro too.” The tiny sheepish grin she gave Scottie was incredibly charming.
Scottie smiled back. Willow remained an enigma. Unfortunately, that only made her more interesting to Scottie. “Okay. I can respect that.” She tucked the note with Willow’s number into her pocket. “I’ll text you when I’ve come up with something fun.”
“Great,” Willow said.
They lingered next to the Civic for another few moments.
Finally, Willow unlocked her car. “Well, I’ll see you soon, then.”
Scottie nodded. “Drive safely, and enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
“You too.” Willow opened the driver’s side door and climbed in.
A few seconds later, the old car started up.
Scottie stepped back and watched it disappear down the road. When she couldn’t make out the taillights anymore, she stared into the night for a few moments longer. She was going on a practice date with Willow Greene, and she didn’t want to examine too closely how she felt about that.
Sometimes, life really took strange turns.