Chapter 54
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
I settle into the sleek velvet booth, a low-hanging light glowing overhead, dim and moody. It’s a guilty relief to be out in the world on a Saturday night. Nigel from Devil Wears Prada would say I’m a “sad little person,” but still—a person.
Thank you for that.
And yes, I still think about Austin every three seconds, but I want to try one date. Just give me this.
“Tell me about the super-cool tutoring thing I’ve heard about,” I start.
Davis grins. “You’re making me blush.”
“Come on, spill.”
So he does. How he built it from the ground up, how he connected smart students at Mayberry with local kids who needed help—for free.
“There’s nothing like helping somebody out with no ulterior motive, you know? It just feels good,” he says.
I hesitate. Isn’t feeling good an ulterior motive? “You’re an entrepreneur.”
His smile tilts. “Not making a penny, so I’m pretty sure a real entrepreneur would say I’m a failure.”
“Nope. You’re using your strategizing to make a difference rather than to profit from it.”
“’Preciate that.”
I swallow. That Operation buzzer again.
Kit said to go deep. Here goes. “So what’s your secret? Plenty of people want to help but don’t do anything about it.” Oh, and I’m supposed to be praying.
Sorry. I’m listening. I trust you if you say this is a no. A no now or a no always. Whatever you say.
“A deep question. I love that. It’s no secret, but I wanna be proud of my life, ya know? I don’t wanna look back and think ‘I did nothing in college. I only partied or got good grades or went out with pretty girls.’” He winks across the table. “It’s not enough to make me content with myself.”
Content with himself. So relatable. And yet …
I shift in the booth. “So what do you have planned for after college? Or is that too Daterview?”
He shakes his head. Energy radiates from his side of the table. Enthusiasm. He’s fully in the moment. Like the old Sophie. “I like that you care about this stuff. I’m so jacked you agreed to go out with me tonight.”
I half smile.
“I know—I’m setting myself up for a major rebound situation. But I’ve been kicking myself seeing you everywhere with … Anyway, I should’ve just asked you out at Goodwill.”
“Hello, random stranger holding a rare velvet artifact,” I imitate. “You seem like a winner.”
He slides forward till his middle hits the table. “If I had just asked your name, I would’ve learned everything I needed to know. The G3-ers had already told me all about you, remember?”
This guy just says how he feels. No waiting till he knows I’ll reciprocate. No hedging his bets. He just goes for it.
“But I said no when you did ask,” I tease. “What makes you so sure it would have been different mid-costume-shopping?”
“I’m not. But it would have been better than yelling over the madness of Saga. And at least I would’ve had a few days to shoot my shot.”
He seems great. Right? Is there a catch?
I rest my arms on the edge of the table and blindly trace the chip in my nail polish. I like Davis. I’m a 0 on the emotionally available scale, but he knows that.
“Oh. I got derailed again. You’re just so pretty I can’t seem to stay focused.” He nudges my hand. “What was the question again?”
A smile twitches. “I asked what happens after college. With your tutoring stuff or anything.”
The server in crisp black glides over and sets down water in beautiful glasses. I could almost be in Pasadena. Then she asks what we’d like to drink, and her voice pulls me straight back to Pinecrest. “Be back for y’all’s order in a jiffy, mkay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says. “Thank you.”
They’re so much alike, he and Austin. Raised just miles apart with the same country manners, the same rhythm to their speech, a similar warmth.
He turns back to me, waving his wrapped silverware, as if he’s composing a tiny orchestra.
“I wanna leave a mark. I dunno how that’ll look yet.
I’m international business, so it could go a lot of directions.
” He chuckles. “Literally. But I mean, I wanna be more than some blue dot bobbing around the map.”
He wants to make a difference. You love that, right? And maybe you have a plan for him to find you later.
An actual smile settles on my face. “Have you always been like that?”
“Kinda, yeah. Life is just … unfulfilling if you don’t do something about it, you know?”
I really do. But also, the sentiment is incomplete. I flick my hair behind my shoulders and study him, as if focusing better will give me a miraculous vision into my own future. Is he in it? Do I care? “International business … So you’re not going to stay in East Texas?”
“Nah, it ain’t in me. ’Specially now that my parents are divorced.”
I let a breath out. “That sucks.”
His smile drops, but he shakes his head, as if to dispel the feeling. “I’ll come back to visit my folks, of course, but I’m gonna live somewhere … louder. Travel as much as humanly possible. I’m gonna try it all.” His grin returns. “You like my answers? You’re looking happier with me.”
I chuckle. “You’re a cool guy.”
“You’re a cool lady. You’re also different from before. Are you super bummed?”
I nod honestly.
“Shoot. I’m sorry.” He plops back against the booth. “And I’m going off about my own stuff. You should just tell me to shut up. Want me to take you back?”
“No, I’m good. And I want to hear. But … that’s the thing though. I’m not sure if I’m going to get better.” I meet his eyes vulnerably. “I might just … be this way now.”
“Sophie Appel, I have a major crush on you. I’ll take whatever you wanna give.”
The lightness in his posture tells me that he hasn’t had his heart broken. Or nuked his own heart, like in my case. He’s been dragged through a family divorce, but he couldn’t know what he’s offering here.
“So what about you?” he asks. “What are you and your beautiful intensity gonna accomplish?”
This guy knows how to use his words, and my chest is a vacuum, sucking them in.
But I’m listening. You get to pick.
Be honest.
I can do that.
“Whatever Jesus says.”
He squints, waiting for the rest.
“I don’t know my major yet, but I’m coming to terms with that. I have no plans, and I kind of think it’s for the best. I just want to do what he says, even if I don’t hear very many steps in advance.”
“Okay … but how can you be sure what a hypothetical formless being says?”
I shrug. “I get where you’re coming from. I was there last year. But he’s not hypothetical anymore. He’s talked to me over and over. And he loves me. I just know.”
A skeptical glance. A muted readjustment. “Sorry. Shouldn’t’ve gotten all heavy with religion talk. Let’s just have fun. I don’t wanna wreck this so early on.”
“I don’t want to start something where I have to walk on eggshells.”
His eyes widen. “Start something? You’re gonna give me a chance?”
I stop short.
“Sorry, derailed again.” He unwraps his napkin and sets it across his lap, rocks his fork on the table. Upside down, right-side up. “Can I ask you something … personal?”
“Yep.”
“Did you ask God about starting up that relationship with Scott?”
A knot twists sharp in my chest. “Um. I should have. But he still gave me an answer.” When I was spiraling. Because I knew it would destroy me when it ended. I rub my breastbone, like that will help. No more trip down memory lane. Not here. Not now.
He studies me. “Mind me asking what you heard?”
Something in my gut says this matters, so I pull in a steadying breath. “He said it was a gift.”
“A gift,” he mutters.
I’m dying to bolt to a safer topic, but I hold my ground and wave him forward. “Go ahead.”
“I guess … I don’t get it. Trust me, my life would be a lot easier at Mayberry if I’d drink the Kool-Aid.
It sucks being the odd one out. But this is exactly why I’m not on board anymore.
You did everything right, and it still blew up in your face.
It really ticks me off. I mean, either you heard wrong or God’s not really there … Or he’s cruel, right?”
I shake my head, but how do I explain? I remember looking at the world like that, hiding behind my independence.
It’s terrifying to be on your own with all the weight, all the responsibility.
Every good result is earned, and every bad result is unfair.
It warps your vision. You hit a high and just want another, but you know it’ll never last. The world is scary, unpredictable, cruel. I hate that for Davis.
What do you want me to say?
I bite my cheek. “I hear you. If you want facts, there are smarter people that can talk philosophy and archaeology and all of that. But I can tell you that I pray and hear back. I read the Bible and it changes me. I ask and he helps—” My voice catches.
“But I brought this on myself. You can’t blame God for it. ”
“Because you ended it? I mean, I’m assuming. Who would leave you? And Scott was so far gone.”
“I really don’t want to get into it.”
“Sorry, yeah, of course. Ugh, I’m blowing this. Everybody knows you don’t ask about breakups on a first date.”
“No, you’re good. But Jesus isn’t some platitude for me. I’m not going back to how I used to do things. Chasing freedom, adjusting the rules as I wanted. It didn’t work.”
His eyes flicker with interest. “What was that? Chasing?”
“Chasing freedom? My friend used to call it that.”
He hums low. “You don’t want freedom anymore?”
“It’s not that. It’s just, doing what I want, avoiding the hard stuff? That wasn’t freedom. It was panic in a leather jacket. I need more than that.”
“More than that.”
Tell him.
“Mind if I tell you more?”
“Go ahead.”
So I tell him. About rules as a playground fence. About my Snorkel. And he tells me about when he gave up on God—when his parents gave up on each other, on their family. And I tell him about mine.
The food is plated to perfection. I try to eat, but my appetite is still hiding somewhere, and I have the rest boxed for Kit and Mia.
Before we part ways, he turns to me. “Hang out with me tomorrow?” That crooked smile. “I know the movies say I’m supposed to wait three days, but I’m not doing anything the right way anyway.”