Chapter 5
Lana
“Wine?” Levi asks, the unsteady flame from the candle on the center of the table reflecting in his green eyes.
“No, I’m okay,” I say, picking at my elbow with my nails.
He calls our waiter over and I peruse the menu again, for the fourth time. There is still nothing I like on this menu and the prices are…a bit much for me. Willow Springs has amazing, family owned restaurants, from fast food to extravagant, all of them in a good price range.
But Levi insisted on going one town over for this place. Hence the dress and heels, and the effort put into curling my hair, nearly burning my fingerprints off with each wrap around the wand.
A salad is my safest bet right now—a twenty dollar small salad. And the thirty dollar glass of wine Levi just ordered for me anyway.
The patient waiter, who has come back to ask if we were ready four times, sets the small glass in front of me. I mumble a thank you, and for the fifth time, he asks, “Are we ready?”
“Yes,” Levi says all too eagerly. “I’ll have the filet mignon.”
“I, um,” I pick at my elbow again. “I’ll have the Caesar salad. Small, please.”
The waiter takes our menus and when he’s gone, Levi’s eyebrows are drawn together. “A salad? What’s wrong?”
I shrug. “I’m not that hungry.”
He blinks, a frown tilting his lips. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“No, it isn’t you.”
I guess we hit it off better when we were both drunk with barely any inhibitions. And when Christian isn’t living out of his car. In my driveway.
I give Levi a tightlipped smile, and he gives me the same back, as if he has realized the same thing. His phone vibrates against the table and he’s quick to answer. “Sorry,” he says, standing. “I’ve gotta take this. I’ll be right back.”
I nod as he walks away and outside the restaurant. I should have stayed home. With my few minutes of freedom, I check my phone.
Christian
So where did he take you?
How is it going?
Are you bored yet?
Do you think he’s hotter than me?
He didn’t open the car door for you. I’m subtracting ten points.
Lana
Stop tracking points
Christian
Is it going that badly that you’re texting me back? Wow, Lana…
Lana
Shut up, you don’t even have a bed
Christian
Other things are more important
Lana
Like protecting your car from vandalism in my driveway?
Christian
No. Just you.
Intolerable.
I’m about to put away my phone when I get another message.
Julian
Christian said you were kidnapped by the golden boy. Do I need to go get you?
Lana
I willingly came on this date!
Julian
I see
Lana
Tell him to back off!
Julian
Tell him yourself
Lana
As my guy best friend, you should have my best interest at heart especially when it comes to exes
You’re supposed to be on my side!
Julian
I am the side of true love
That’s why I’m not getting in the way of it…
Lana
I hate you
Did he tell you to say that? Because it’s corny
Then he sends me a picture of Grace, and I can’t be angry at him. He knows exactly where to aim the bullets in my heart. After all this time, Julian never showed any predilection toward Christian. But it seems tonight he’s on “the side of love.” Bastard.
I hide my phone with a low groan, still feeling a bit sad about my interaction with Christian earlier. I only said it to shoot him down, and it was like shooting him while he was already bleeding out.
And now I’m here, wishing I wasn’t because my heart would much rather be with him. Always.
I’ve been on better dates that have involved much more vibrant conversation other than asking about each other’s jobs. My first date with Christian, however, was everything above sublime. This date is whatever is beneath subpar.
Levi comes back in with a weak smile. Clearly this isn’t going as well as he thought it would, and he’s wearing the disappointment on his face. I cross my legs and push my shoulders back to make myself feel empowered, and I smile.
That’s our thing tonight. Small smiles and no words.
So imagine my relief when the waiter comes back with our plates and I don’t have to worry about talking back when he tells me about his real estate job. Again.
“Katherine’s Diner?”
I look over at him and he’s grinning like a little boy getting a new toy on Christmas. “This is your favorite place.”
My gaze narrows and I cross my arms, putting him to the test. “How do you know that?”
“You said it the day we met,” Christian says. “I pay attention.”
“I see.” He passed.
I remember meeting him freshman year, saying hi to him in passing because of our mutual friends.
I knew of him then, but it wasn’t until we met that we became friends.
We both got to a party too early and waited outside, sitting on the sidewalk.
I got there first actually, and then he came walking down the street.
“Can I sit here?” he asked me.
My head tilted all the way back to look up at him. He was six three and I was five-five—but sitting on the sidewalk? I was even tinier. “Yeah,” I said. “We’re early.”
Christian sat right next to me, his arms on his folded knees. I still don’t know whether or not he was intentionally trying to show off his muscled arms, but it worked. “I know,” he said.
“Why are you early?” I asked him.
He lifted a shoulder. “Just...needed to get out of my house. You?”
“Just needed to get out of my house.”
“Parents?”
“Mom. You?”
“Dad.”
I nodded. “Is he a dick?”
Christian chuckled and I kind of loved that sound—even now. I love it in the way you wish you could record your favorite person’s voice and play it when you miss them. In the way that I wish I could trap the sound in a jar, twist the top tightly, and save it for a rainy day.
It’s just…a really nice sound.
“He is,” he said. “Is your mom…mean?”
I shook my head. “No, she’s just…sad all the time, I guess.”
“What does your mom do?”
“She cleans houses. Your dad?”
“Something with technology. He’s always working. Investing or whatever else.”
“You don’t like it, I take it?”
“Not at all.” Christian frowned.
I frowned too, saddened for him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, like the one who has to apologize is his father. “Do you like your mom?”
“I do,” I answered. “I love my mother. She can just be…a lot sometimes.”
My mom was grieving still, and I never understood how she could grieve a man who couldn’t stick around. My father left just after I was born, never showing his face again. But five years ago, we got a call. He’s dead. My mother was broken and I knew she was beyond repair.
“And your mom?”
“The same.”
Somehow, we ended up in deep conversation, getting to know each other, and one of his questions was, “What’s your favorite place in town?”
“Probably Katherine’s Dinner,” I shrugged. “I go with my mom a lot. Sometimes I go alone to study. I don’t know, it just feels safe.”
Christian looks at me now, smiling and squeezing my hand. And here I am with him in the parking lot of Katherine’s Diner for our first date. My favorite place with my new favorite person.
Levi’s car slows to a stop in front of my house, and the rush of relief I feel when I see the stupid McLaren is incomprehensible. The car ride back from the restaurant was mostly silent—awkward enough to make my skin feel like an uncomfortable layer.
He puts the car in park and I turn my head toward him, keeping my body shifted toward the door. “Thank you,” I say. “For dinner and driving.”
Levi smiles. “Of course,” he says. “It was fun.”
I know he’s lying.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he chuckles. “I’d been waiting to take you out for years.”
“Really?” I try not to sound incredulous.
“Yeah,” he says. “Just thought…you know with…”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Levi leans forward to look out the window toward my driveway and sits back again. “He’s staying here?”
“No. Well... not really.” I sigh. “He’s just… trespassing.”
Levi snorts. “Well then. Maybe… I’ll text you and we can go out again.”
“Yeah.” A feeble little smile. “Sure, let me know.” Please don’t.
“Have a good night, Lana.”
“You too, Levi.”
My hand wraps around the door handle of his car and when my heels tap against the sidewalk, I see Christian’s face peeking out of his window. When the passenger door closes, Levi drives off, but I’m smiling still because Christian thinks he’s so subtle.
I am also deducting ten points for not helping me out of his car or walking me to the door.
His eyes widen when he notices me watching him and he throws himself back into his seat. Beautiful idiot, I swear.
I walk toward my front door with purpose, swaying my hips side to side, one foot directly in front of the other like I’m on a runway. And I move slowly, you know, to make him suffer a little extra tonight.
The sound of a car door opening and closing makes me smirk as I take my keys out of my purse.
“You’re back early,” Christian quips from behind me.
I turn to find him at the bottom of my front steps, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed, biceps threatening to rip the fabric to shreds.
I roll my eyes. “And you’re still here.”
He smirks and it pisses me off because it’s so hot. “What happened with Levi?”
“It is none of your business,” I grumble.
“It is when you come home upset.”
“Need I remind you that this is my house. You’re just sleeping in my driveway and trespassing!”
“I’m here for you.”
“I don’t believe you,” I snarl, sounding so unbelievably cruel in my ears.
And there it is again. The second time tonight.
I forget about the cute messages and him watching me leave on a date and waiting for me to come home.
I forget about the foot massage and the kiss on my cheek, and I only remember the way he left me.
All the ways I’ve found him crying out for help.
All the ways my heart broke for him, and the way he broke it.
Christian grunts, pushing back his hair and drags his hand down his face. The porch sensor light finally turns on and I finally see it. I blink thrice to make sure I’m not seeing a ghost.
“Are you— Are you wearing jeans?”