Chapter Eleven
Brock
It was finally a date night. It had taken us far too long to align our schedules.
And, by us, I meant me. Work was hectic, and I was allowing it to be.
I half believed it was time to look for a new job, even within the same company.
But until I made a firm decision, I didn’t feel safe letting my foot off the gas.
That meant I had a lot of time to think about our date.
What I would wear? How I would fix my hair? What shoes would work best? Every little detail, which should’ve meant that I was ready to go well before Zeph picked me up. But I wasn’t. I couldn’t find the shirt I wanted. I only found one shoe.
The busier I was, the worse the clutter in my place had grown. In the end, I looked fine, but nowhere near as magnificent as I had intended. And then there was the realization that Zeph was coming to my place to pick me up, the same one that had eaten my shoe.
It was romantic and sweet and just what everybody longed for in a first date, except there was nothing company-ready about my place. My initial thought was to clean, but I quickly gave up on that. There wasn’t time. Instead, I grabbed my keys and went outside to wait for him.
I could tell he was slightly taken aback when he saw me standing there on the sidewalk, but I quickly explained I was done getting ready early and excited for the date.
Both of which were technically true. I thought that would feel better than me being uncomfortable sharing my space with him just yet.
“I’m excited too.” He opened the door of his car, and, once I slid inside, shut it behind me and got in his seat.
All we had officially decided on was that we were going to get something to eat.
That was as far as I knew. This was one of those things where I liked the surprise and to not have to make the decision.
It was super-low stakes because, at the end of the day, it didn’t matter where we were going, just that we were going together.
When he asked me if I had any preferences, I’d told him to surprise me. He didn’t seem to mind.
The restaurant was about fifteen minutes away.
There were closer places we could’ve grabbed a bite, but around here, everything seemed to be fifteen minutes away and considered “close.” He pulled into a parking garage, and, before I had my seat belt unbuckled, was opening my door.
He offered me his hand. I didn’t need assistance getting out, but it felt nice allowing him to anyway.
It didn’t feel as nice when he let go to shut the door.
I didn’t get a sense he didn’t want to hold on anymore, more that he was trying not to push, which was really sweet despite being frustrating.
“It’s about a block from here, but it’s across the street from a really popular bar that has a semi-famous band tonight. I figured this would be the better choice.”
How daddy he was, looking beyond the surface. He not only discovered that it was next to a bar, but that the bar had a special event, and parking might be problematic. All the details I wouldn’t have even considered. Reason 79,854,789 why I could never be a daddy.
The walk there was short, and we didn’t really get to speak too much, spending most of the time walking one in front of the other because he’d been spot-on about the band.
I didn’t know who they were or what they sang, but there were a whole lot of people lined up, and they were lined up in both directions.
I wouldn’t want to be the bouncer there tonight.
“This is the best food in the city,” he told me as we crossed the street.
“Do you come here a lot?”
“No. I’ve never been. But their advertisement says it’s the best food in the city, so, you know, it must be true.”
“Oh, absolutely. Truth in advertising is the norm.” Although, from what I could smell, they were pretty darn accurate.
The atmosphere inside was different from the nightclubby vibe we’d just stepped away from.
There were linen tablecloths, candle lanterns at each table, and napkins folded to be tents.
Although, I suspected that a tent hadn’t been the original intention of the design.
It was what would probably have been really, really romantic twenty, thirty years ago, and now, it was just cheesy enough to be romantic once again.
Zeph gave his name, and they checked it off the reservation list and brought us to our table.
“When you looked it up, did they say what the best thing to eat here was?”
“It said there were no wrong choices.” So unhelpful. “But the reviews all say the meatballs are the best.”
“I love meatballs. I haven’t had them in a long time. The ones in the freezer section aren’t the same as my grandma’s were.”
“No. How could they be? Family dishes are always the best. These might come close?”
“Closer, maybe,” I countered.
We both ended up ordering the meatballs, each of us with a different homemade pasta.
I made the mistake of picking spaghetti, which was hardly the easiest-to-eat meal, but it was delicious.
With Zeph, I didn’t feel self-conscious about sauce getting on my face or slurping a noodle.
And when he reached over with his napkin to get a spot of sauce off my nose, it was so natural, nothing forced about it.
I almost forgot it was a first date and not someone I’d known for years.
“You’re a really good restaurant picker.” I leaned back, full, my plate empty, and I had zero regrets.
“Thank you. I hope the next one is just as good.”
The hint of a second date had butterflies swarming in my middle.
Before I could think of a way to flirt back, the server came to offer us dessert once the dishes were cleared away. My plan had been to say no. I was stuffed.
But they tempted us with a dessert platter, showing us everything they had.
And there was no turning down their lobster-tail pastry.
They called it something fancy, but I remembered them from a bakery when I was young, and they were delicious.
Zeph had tiramisu, which, according to the server, had won a citywide award.
Then, because I was exhausted but didn’t want the date to be over too soon, I paired the treat with a cappuccino for the caffeine.
We spent an hour enjoying our leisurely dessert, and then there was no denying we’d outstayed our welcome. The next seating was already starting to arrive.
“I don’t know if you’re up for it,” Zeph said, “but would you like to go someplace fun next?”
“I like fun.”