Chapter 12
Twelve
It’s Friday, and the week flew by without any incidents. I aced a history test, had a great shift at work, and threw myself into a janitor’s closet to avoid running into Arthur in the halls, but other than that it was business as usual.
On Thursday, Chad messaged Kalani to inform her that I should meet him at Delphine Chophouse at seven o’clock on Friday, and I haven’t been able to think of an excuse to get out of it.
It’s the fanciest restaurant in town, and people from towns over flock to get a table, so the fact that he chose that restaurant and managed to get a Friday night reservation means there’s no way I can bail.
I’d much rather stay at home with Kevin and my paints, or have a sleepover with Kalani and Emi like back in the day, or even check out Boscoe’s pop-up exhibit since tonight is the last night it’s open before they pack up, but instead I’m shoving my feet in strappy heels that are half a size too small for me and caking my face to perfection.
“Where are you going all dressed up?” Mom asks when I emerge downstairs in a navy minidress covered with tiny white polka dots. Kevin trails down the stairs behind me.
To meet a guy named Chad who wears sunglasses to a party at night and somehow hope against all obvious signs that it’ll be a good date.
“Delphine,” I tell her, fixing my lipstick in the mirror. Technically not a lie.
She shuts her laptop. “Fancy. With Kalani and Emi?”
I freeze for only a brief second before nodding at her. “Yes, with them.” Totally a lie.
Mom’s smile is wide. “Good! See, honey, everything works out once you’re honest with your friends.”
“Uh-huh,” I reply nonchalantly, taking my time with my lipstick so I don’t have to look directly at Mom.
My stomach hurts from the lie, but I push past it.
Better this than have her mind-trick the truth out of me.
The last thing I need is her disapproving stare venturing deep into my soul and ferreting out that I’m going on dates so I don’t fifth wheel my friends anymore and don’t throw off the numbers or whatever it is they’re worried about at prom.
Plus, I don’t want Mom to find out I’m going on a date in general, because then she’ll grill me about his name, age, job, home address, and social security number, and that’s information I either don’t have or don’t feel like sharing.
“All right, have fun,” she says, opening her laptop again. “Dad and I are going out with Sam and Yolonda soon, so don’t wait up if you get in before us.”
“Okay, bye! Love you!” Throwing my keys and some cash into my tiny clutch purse, I bend down to pat Kevin and hightail it out of the house before Mom becomes more interested in my plans.
Even though the days are longer now that it’s the first week of June, it’s a chilly evening, and I hate that I forgot to grab a jacket again.
I blast the heat and the radio to help with my nerves.
I shouldn’t be nervous—I’m going on a date with a guy named Chad for goodness’ sake—but Kalani had time to talk to this guy, unlike the others.
What if she likes Chad because he reminds her of Emmett?
Obviously, Kalani likes Emmett, so she’d like the same qualities in another guy, so that would mean Chad is like Emmett, meaning I’m going on a date with my very own version of Emmett.
But then again, Kalani had a few drinks in her, and it was way too loud at the party to have a proper conversation with someone, so perhaps she doesn’t know Chad at all and I’m stressing over nothing.
At the very least, I should only be worried about the restroom window situation, not the Chad versus Emmett situation.
But Delphine doesn’t have windows in the bathrooms, and this dress is way too cute to ruin crawling through any windows.
I stop at a red light and pout, remembering Emmett’s admonishing words about ditching a date.
I guess I shouldn’t crawl out a window anyway, so I’ll cross my fingers and hope the date is a success, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to face the confrontation if it’s not.
Delphine Chophouse is already packed by the time I arrive at 6:50 p.m., so I park near the back and huddle close to myself for warmth as I cross the parking lot.
Jay’s a server here. I wonder if he’s on the schedule today.
I wonder if he’ll be my server. Maybe I should text him and see if he’s working.
No. I shouldn’t do that. I haven’t heard from him since last weekend at Ralph’s party, and I don’t think he works on Fridays.
But what if he is my server and he goes out of his way to humiliate me on my date, and then the date is ruined and Kalani thinks I’m sabotaging dates on purpose?
No, he wouldn’t do that, would he? Maybe.
It is Jay I’m thinking about. And why am I thinking about him so much?
I’m about to go on a date—I should not be thinking about the guy who threw me into a pool last weekend, even if it was for a helpful reason.
I enter the restaurant winning the internal battle with myself, refusing to pull out my phone and ask Jay if he’s working tonight.
The hostess brings me to my table when I tell her I have a reservation under Chad, but unlike the last two times, no one’s at the table to greet me.
I guess I got here first? Taking a seat, I open the menu and skim through the options.
Delphine is pricey—like a chicken breast is fifty-five dollars kind of pricey—so it looks like I’m getting a thirty-five-dollar salad.
That’s the most money I’ve ever shelled out for a simple salad before taxes, so it better be the best damn salad I’ve ever had.
I text Kalani to let her know I’m here, and she messages me back, telling me she’s taking Maleah to the movies to escape the arguing at home and will check in on me later.
A smiling woman who’s at least ten years older than me approaches the table. “Hello, I’m Nina, and I’ll be your server tonight.” It’s not Jay. My server isn’t Jay. I tell myself the pang in my stomach is relief, not disappointment.
I ask Nina for a water while I wait for my date, and ten minutes later, when it arrives, I’m still staring at an unoccupied seat in front of me.
Is he not coming? How long am I supposed to wait before I can pack up and call it a day?
It’s 7:10, so maybe he’s not coming. Is the pressure in my chest relief or annoyance? I can’t decide.
“Princess?” The deep voice forces my head up. Jay’s standing in front of my table, his eyebrows drawn together.
He’s not dressed in the server uniforms everyone’s wearing, so he can’t be working.
In fact, he looks good. Really good. His broad shoulders are emphasized by his white button-down dress shirt, which has touches of navy in the collar, buttons, and sleeve cuffs.
He’s wearing his silver watch, and he’s got on dress shoes.
I force my head back up to meet his eyes and ignore the fact that we match in a cute couple-y way.
Oh, no. Please tell me Chad wasn’t an elaborate setup to get Jay and me back on another date. But no, that can’t be it. He’s looking at me like he’s genuinely confused.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“I’m on a date,” I mumble, feeling embarrassed.
Jay lifts an amused eyebrow, and his gaze shifts to the empty seat in front of me. “Is he imaginary?”
I smack his arm. “He’s not here yet!” I pray my foundation is heavy enough to cover my reddening face.
Of course it’s just my luck that even though he’s not working, he’s still here to witness another blind date.
He already thinks I’m weird and undatable, and he’s about to see it unfold right in front of his eyes.
I cross my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here, anyway? You’re clearly not working. ”
He points at a table a few feet down from where I’m sitting. There are three guys and two girls around our age there, and I recognize them as people Jay was with at the cliff.
“It’s Zach’s birthday. He’s eighteen today, so we’re celebrating.”
They don’t have menus, so they must have already ordered. The empty seat where Jay must be sitting is on the side closest to me, which means he’s not facing me, and I won’t have to worry about his eyes on me all through dinner.
“Tell him I say happy birthday,” I say for lack of anything better. His gaze is unnerving, and he doesn’t make any move to leave, so I clear my throat. “Well, thanks for stopping by, but I have a date, so . . .”
He nods his head. “Right.” He looks away for a moment before meeting my eyes again, but there’s a playfulness that wasn’t there a moment ago.
“There aren’t any windows in the bathroom here, so I don’t think you’ll be able to escape.
And after the thanks I got for helping you last time, you’re on your own for this one. ”
I sit up straighter in my chair. Does he think I didn’t already consider the bathroom window situation? And who said I would ask him for help? It was a fluke I roped him into it last time.
“I won’t need your help,” I state, trying not to squirm under his gaze.
“Uh-huh.” His tone is filled with disbelief. “I’ll remember that. Have fun on your date—if he shows.”
He gives me a once-over that heats my body all the way to my toes before he continues on to wherever it was he was going, probably the restroom.
Indignation swells in my chest. Why does every conversation I have with Jay both excite me and piss me off?
How dare he think my date won’t show up!
It doesn’t matter that a few minutes ago I was relieved at the idea of Chad bailing; now I mentally shout to the universe, asking for Chad to arrive and for this date to be amazing, if for no other reason than to rub it in Jay’s face.
See? I’ll say. He is real, and he’s here, and we’re having an amazing time, and I don’t need your help to bail me out of this super awesome date, so HA!