Chapter 8
Eight
The nerves hit when I park my car in front of La Mesa Mexican Restaurant.
I told Kalani I didn’t want Arthur to have my number, lest we have another incident like I did with Jay, so we’re doing this the old-fashioned way.
Emi convinced me that this date couldn’t possibly be worse than my last date, and she doesn’t even know the half of it—specifically the part about him calling out my crush on Emmett—so I wasn’t too nervous.
But now, gathering my cross-body purse and walking through the parking lot, I am nervous, and I’m not sure if that’s because I’m scared it’s going to be worse than my date with Jay or scared it’ll be better.
I decided on a short jean skirt and a nice purple crop top for today’s date, and when I put on matching purple underwear, my thoughts wandered to Jay.
What color are your panties today? Denim?
he would ask, and I’d have the satisfaction of saying no, they’re not.
He’s never encountered me in jeans before, and I laughed at the thought of stumping him.
My phone vibrates—it’s a text from Jay.
Have fun on your date! Hope he gets paid.
I scoff. It’s like he knew I was just thinking about him. I put my phone away without responding and enter the restaurant.
“Hello, reservation under Arthur,” I tell the hostess.
The restaurant has Spanish music playing, and my hips casually sway to the beat on their own.
The lighting is dim, but not as dim as Murphey’s.
There are traditional Mexican decorations everywhere, and a beautiful mural of women wearing dancing skirts covers the wall closest to me.
I study the ten-foot painting, admiring the way the brushstrokes were purposefully left in and how orange and pink hues were used throughout to bring the piece together even though they weren’t needed.
“Right this way.” The hostess smiles and leads me through the dining area.
Like last time, I scan the tables, looking for a familiar face. I never figured out who Arthur is, mostly because I didn’t care enough to try.
She stops in front of a table, and a boy quickly stands up.
“Here you are,” the hostess says, then she turns to leave.
Arthur is about my height, and he’s in a suit.
He clearly understands how to use color theory to his advantage, because the deep navy of his suit and the rich, dark plum of his tie work perfectly together to bring out the warmth in his eyes.
Even so, it’s not exactly appropriate for our setting since he’s completely overdressed, but who am I to judge?
He looks like he’s trying, and I can appreciate that.
“Carina, h-hi.” He swallows nervously and sticks his hand out for me.
“Nice to meet you,” I reply, shaking his hand.
He holds on for longer than necessary, and I gently extract my hand, casually wiping it on my skirt to get his sweat off it.
His eagerness is endearing but a little off-putting.
We sit on opposite sides of the table, but there are three place settings.
It must be a mistake, but I don’t point it out.
“When Kalani told me she wanted to set us up on a date, I couldn’t believe it,” Arthur says, staring at me with eyes full of wonder.
Arthur’s not exactly my type, but then again, Emmett’s my type, and Kalani’s not going to set me up with him.
Arthur’s hair is short and blond, not floppy, brown, or curly enough for my taste; his eyes are brown instead of ocean blue, framed by black-rimmed glasses.
His qualities would make him cute, sure, but to someone who’s been staring at Emmett all day every day for the last almost four years, he’s not what I’d prefer, but I have to get over that because that’s my issue, not Arthur’s.
“Why’s that?” I ask him, opening a menu.
It’s not like I’m a celebrity or Miss Popularity or anything.
Kalani is pretty popular, because she cares about that kind of stuff, and maybe I’m popular by association.
But I wouldn’t call myself popular. I’m well-liked and have lots of friends in different social circles because I like connecting with people on a deeper level, which is easy to do when I’ve spent the last four years getting dragged along to events by Kalani.
She inevitably gets swept up by one group of people or another, which means I’m forced to either talk to people or stand awkwardly in the corner.
But like always, Kalani pushing me out of my comfort zone led to something positive, because now I’m always waving at people in the hallway or stopping for a quick chat about someone’s dog or my latest art installation.
I try to remember that I’m being pushed out of my comfort zone now and hope it too leads to something great.
Arthur’s jaw drops for a quick second. “Because you’re Carina Costella. I’m on a date with Carina Costella.”
The way he says my full name makes me cringe, as does the reverence in his voice. “Well, here we are,” I say for lack of anything better.
He nods and picks up his own menu. “Yes. Yes, we are.”
I don’t recognize him from Mr. Fulconi’s math class, but I sat at the back and doodled in my sketchbook the majority of the time.
We make small talk about which teachers and classes we have, and he seems to calm down the intensity a bit, which causes me to relax.
It’s odd how differently this date is going compared to my last one.
It’s been ten whole minutes, and Arthur hasn’t insulted me, asked about my panties, or accurately accused me of being in love with my best friend’s boyfriend.
At least Kalani meant it when she said she picked someone who’s the complete opposite of Jay after how vehemently I swore I disliked him.
We order, and the waitress takes our menus. Arthur must be starving because he orders an absurd amount of food for just one person, but I don’t comment on it. Now that the menus are gone and there’s nothing else to look at, we stare awkwardly at each other.
“So, Carina,” he starts, “what do you think of the name Barbara?”
Barbara? “Um, it’s cool, I guess?” I take a sip of water to avoid his unnerving stare.
“Oh, good. It’s my mom’s name, and we’d have to name our first daughter after her.”
I choke on the water, and it goes down the wrong way, making me cough. “What?” He must be joking. He’s trying to break the ice in a weird, memorable way, right?
Wrong. He’s looking at me with a serious frown. He repeats, “We’d have to name our daughter after my mom. Her mom’s name is Barbara too. It’s a tradition. But if we have a boy, I guess we can name him Bob.”
He’s serious. He believes we’re going to have children together. We haven’t even gotten appetizers on our first date, and he’s already picking out baby names.
I set my glass down. “Yeah . . . but maybe baby names are a second date conversation.”
He doesn’t register that I’m joking. His eyes light up, and he sits up straighter. “We’re going on a second date? Yes!”
My eyes widen with alarm. Oh, no. “Um . . . that’s not what . . .”
The waitress arrives with a pitcher of water to refill our drinks, and I let the sentence trail off. Maybe he’s just nervous and I should give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he really does just have a weird sense of humor.
“So . . . do you have a job?” I ask to change the subject. He’s still staring at me like I might disappear.
“Not right now. I’m focusing on studying. I want to be an accountant,” he says, straightening his tie, and I can totally see him in an office somewhere, clicking away at a calculator. “Do you work?”
My intuition tells me not to specify where I work in case he shows up, but I shove that thought down because it’s mean and probably unreasonable. “Yeah. I work at my parents’ bakery.”
I say it with a sense of pride, because I am proud of Ottavio’s Bakery and my parents for making it the success it is.
“Oh.” His eyebrows draw together. “Are you planning on taking over?”
His disapproving tone takes me by surprise. “Well, I—”
“Because you can’t run a bakery and stay home with the kids if I’m traveling for work.
It’s not reasonable. Though perhaps you can do the paperwork stuff from home and pop in when the kids are at school.
As long as it doesn’t interfere with the household chores.
I’m allergic to dust, so you’d have to make sure the house is always spotless. ”
I gawk at him. Like the baby names, he’s not joking.
He’s seriously planning a future with me as if we’re already engaged.
Am I on a prank show or something? A quick glance around tells me no, this isn’t a joke, since there aren’t any cameras waiting to pop out at me.
Not only has Arthur planned out our entire future, but he also thinks he can tell me what I can or can’t do, and he has an incredibly outdated view of marriage and gender roles within the partnership.
That’s it. I tried, and it obviously isn’t going to work out.
It’s time to pull the plug on this date and get out of here before he starts measuring me for a wedding dress.
What was Kalani thinking when she set this one up?
I didn’t think a date could be worse than the one I had with Jay, but it definitely is.
Jay was a jerk, but at least he wasn’t a controlling, clingy jerk.
My phone is barely in my hands when the chair beside Arthur is pulled out.
“Sorry I’m late, I was finishing up with some work.
Hello, Carina,” an older woman says, a woman who has Arthur’s brown eyes and a similarly shaped nose.
Her hair is a shade lighter than Arthur’s and cut to above her shoulders.
She’s in a fitted navy pantsuit that’s only slightly less fancy than Arthur’s.
My eyes flit between Arthur, who stands up to tuck the woman’s chair in as she sits, to the woman. “H-hi?”
It comes out as a question. Are we not on a date right now? Arthur called it a date before, so he definitely knows not to invite other people.