Chapter 20 Date Night
“ S o, on a scale of zero to the best Italian food you’ve ever had, how would you rank dinner?”
“Well,” I turned in the passenger seat to face Peter, locking eyes on his handsome profile.
“The whole restaurant was beautiful. Like, picture perfect out of a movie, and as far as the food, I feel like I’ll have a food baby for a week after all of that pasta.
I knew I was full but I literally could not stop eating, it was so good! ”
Peter quirked an adorable eyebrow up at me, glancing from the road to me.
“Food baby?”
“Yeah.” Probably not the sexiest thing to mention on a first date, dummy. “ It’s when you eat so much food that you feel and sort of look like you’re three months pregnant. My friends in New York used to say it all the time.”
“Do you miss your friends in New York?”
“Some of them. Mostly just my dance partner, Gabe, but he’s already come down to visit once and he’s going to start coming down more as it gets closer to our December competition.”
Peter turned into my neighborhood, lightly drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. “So, do they sell, um, tickets to that competition or…?”
I smiled without thought at his nervous tone, and also at how slow the houses and streets began to pass by as we drove through my neighborhood.
“They do sell tickets.”
Peter side-glanced at me, a dashing half smile rising to his lips. “I’d love to see you dance sometime.”
For the first time tonight, I felt the quell of butterflies flutter through my stomach. The spark shining in his kind brown eyes and that easy smile combined with those words created the feeling I’d been searching for all night long.
Excitement. Giddiness. Chemistry.
“Are you propositioning me, Peter?” I asked, shifting into my best flirtatious voice.
“What?” His eyes shot open wide, and he quickly fumbled over his next words. “No, not at all.”
“Oh,” I forced a laugh, feeling any spark between us deflate with the moment. “I was just joking.”
Peter visibly relaxed. “Oh, okay.”
I gave him another reassuring smile before turning my head towards the car window to hide the crushing disappointment I could feel weighing down my stare.
All night long, all throughout dinner, I’d been waiting to feel that something .
That something inside that you didn’t even realize was there until the right person wakes it up and suddenly, you feel more alive than you ever knew you could.
Just now, I thought I felt it.
I thought that somewhere between his winning smile and charming words, I’d felt the rise of life start inside me.
It was such a small misunderstanding moment between us that it shouldn’t have mattered.
I should have been able to chalk it up to a joke that didn’t go well or an attempt at flirting that wasn’t received, but I couldn’t.
I couldn’t do anything but think about how stupid Ethan would have reacted to my joking flirtations.
He would have caught on right away and played along.
He would have said that yes, he was propositioning me to dance and gone even further and dirtier and asked if I accepted cash or credit, or possibly even try to slip me a single dollar bill.
I would have laughed and blushed, and the moment would have been perfect and scrapbooked into my memory forever.
Instead, it was awkward and lame and I just wanted to forget it ever happened so I could stop thinking about Ethan. Tonight was about moving on from him and wondering how he’d be on this date was pretty much the exact opposite of that.
Amid my runaway thoughts, my body jerked with the car as we pulled to a stop. Perking up in my seat, I turned my head around at the houses and unfamiliar streets outside.
“This isn’t my house.”
“I know.” Peter unclicked his seatbelt and turned the car off. “It’s a few blocks down the road. I just thought maybe I could walk you to your front door taking the long way?”
Hope was in his expression and I didn’t have the heart to say no, nor did I want to. I wanted this to work with Peter, and there was potential in these sweet moments. Peter was kind and thoughtful and super cute, and those were enough reasons to say, “That sounds nice.”
As we exited his car, nips of wind blew over my shoulders, and I pulled my arms around my bare shoulders, shielding myself from the weather that got colder each night. Peter came around to my side, and together we walked along the sidewalk towards my house.
“So, how would you say that Chicago fares to New York?”
I mulled it over, pressing and tapping my finger to my lip for dramatic effect. “Still undecided.”
“Ah. Well good thing I like a challenge.”
“Good thing indeed.”
“Sounds like next time I’ll have to spice up my game a bit. Go the next level up from dinner and an almost midnight stroll under the stars.”
“Next time?” I shot Peter a teasing glance. “That’s awfully presumptuous of you.”
His mouth drew wide into a sappy smile. “I’m a hopeful man.”
We continued to walk in step, side by side, in a silence that didn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable. That was one thing I realized I enjoyed most about being around Peter. He was easy to be around because he never went out of his way to say or do anything that made me nervous.
He was like a scoop of vanilla ice cream or a well-traveled hiking path. Peter was comforting, dependable, and safe. Unlike some people I know who were more like all the flavors of ice-cream combined or an off-the-beaten path, unmarked trail leading you right off a cliff.
“ So …” Peter drew the word out with a somewhat timid air. “Do you think there will be a next time?”
By this point, I could see Monica’s house and knew that our time together was drawing to an end. He wanted a second date, so I guess that meant I didn’t totally suck at first dates.
Score .
But did I want a second date? Sure, I didn’t feel that ‘spark’ that I felt with Jonah on our first date, but that spark also led to catastrophic heartbreak. Maybe it was better this way? I could get to know Peter in a safe way, and we could grow into something potentially wonderful and steady.
If a spark ignited a fire so deadly it destroyed everything around me, maybe no spark meant that I got to create my own out of patience, understanding, and time.
Turning my face up to Peter’s, my answer stretched my lips wide.
“I’m thinking that’s a yes.”
Victory creased the smile lines on his face and he fell into a laughter so adorable, I couldn’t help but join in. He seemed genuinely pleased about our second date, and that made me feel good about it too.
“I mean, how else am I going to see all of Chicago’s hot spots without a guide to help me?” I joked.
Peter stopped walking a few feet before reaching my front porch, spinning to face me with feigned hurt across his features. “Is that all I am to you? A free tour guide?”
“Maybe.” I nudged his shoulder with mine. “It helps that you’re cute.”
A blush faded onto Peter’s cheeks just before he looked away. His nervous chuckle seeped into my pores and warmed my blood against the chill of the wind. He nudged his glasses back in place, trading the pink in his cheeks over to mine as he spoke.
“And you are… breathtaking .”
In my heart, a twitch flickered like a flame. That twitch occurred once more as Peter stepped closer, his body now blocking most of the wind from reaching me. Without the wind to send shivers down my spine, I wasn’t cold anymore, but I was trembling.
How close Peter was getting and the nervous dance of his eyes from mine to my lips; I knew what he was about to do.
Peter was going to try and kiss me.
“I can’t even tell you how lucky I feel to be here with you right now.” His voice dipped lower. His face lingered nearer. “I…”
Beneath my chin, fingers grazed a steady trail, leading my head to crane back just enough to position for the kiss I knew was coming.
I could feel it. In the way my heart stammered more with every awaiting second and the sudden awareness I had of my lips and tongue.
Peter’s stare zigzagged across every inch of my face, the anticipation in his eyes gleaming against the lense of his glasses.
“Is this okay?” he asked in a whisper.
An unfortunate urge to giggle rose inside my chest, but I pushed it down as quickly as it appeared. I’d never been asked if it was okay to kiss me before. Jonah just did it. The other men I’d kissed before him just did it because the moment between us was permission enough. Or so I thought.
Peter was a unique breath of fresh air, and one I wanted to hold in.
I nodded yes and tried not to focus on the unexpected nerves bustling through my stomach. My mind was racing and I couldn’t slow it down long enough to tell it to stop. Peter leaned in closer, his eyes closing behind his glasses, and then he kissed me.
My eyes got caught still open, my brain too overwhelmed to tell them to close. His lips molded to mine and pressed gently and it was…
Warm. It was nice.
But no spark.
Just warm lips pulling at mine once, and then disappearing, leaving me with the faintest taste of mint.
Peter moved back some with a smile denting his cheeks, reminding me I should probably smile too.
The hollow ache in my stomach at the lack of a spark was an ignorant feeling.
It would go away the more I learned that no spark was good.
No spark was safe, and more than anything in my next relationship, I needed safety.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since the first time I saw you,” he admitted softly.
Cliche, but sweet.
“Well, feel free to do it again whenever you want.”
Peter’s smile deepened as did the joy in his expression. “Now I really can’t wait for our second date.”
We both chuckled and said our goodnights before parting ways.
He didn’t kiss me again though, which I found kind of odd, but didn’t stress it too much as I finished walking the short distance to Monica’s front door.
Pushing the front door open, I told myself it was because he was a gentleman and he was being respectful and it left him wanting more, which was the point of first dates, right?
Closing the door behind me, a loud noise jolted me out of my analytical thoughts and shot my head up towards the sound.
In the kitchen, Ethan scurried to clean up a knocked over beer bottle, and was failing miserably. He floundered for all of three seconds before lending his stare over to me.
“Home before midnight? Wow, Peter really is a class act.”
The slur in his words caught my ears, and the empty bottles of alcohol around him and on the coffee table now had an explanation.
“Are you drunk?”
Observing the mess of the house he’d made while I was gone, I wondered if he’d done this alone or hired a fraternity to help muck up the place.
It was a complete disaster, matching the man across the room with a cup to his lips, tipping it back until it was dry.
He set the cup down, a wicked smile curling up the ends of his mouth.
“Only a little.”
Oh great.