Chapter 21 #2
I can’t think of anything to say but the truth.
“When I first saw you, you reminded me of the main character of my favorite book. I was trying to sneak a picture of you to send to a friend. A former friend, really.” Yeah, he doesn’t need to know the specifics.
I move on. “It was unfortunate you caught me in the act. I hoped you’d pretend you didn’t remember that unfortunate moment. ”
He laughs. “Yeah, pretending I don’t remember a beautiful woman isn’t a talent of mine.”
My face reddens until it’s the shade of a ripe strawberry.
“I hear you're from Tucson,” he says. “I grew up in Blissful, but I moved away for fifteen years. Now I’m back with my daughter. I forgot how claustrophobic small town life can be. I drive to the city at least once a week to breathe in some city life. It keeps me sane. If you find yourself in the same situation, let me know. We can get some real food and catch a movie. Us city people need to stick together.”
I can’t tell if he’s just being friendly or asking me out on a date.
It’s surreal either way. And though I appreciate the invitation (date?) I don’t relate to his situation.
In the short time I’ve lived in Blissful, it feels more like home than Tucson.
I don’t need an escape from the town; I’d be happy to never leave it again.
It’s now that I recognize I’m not a city girl any longer. I’m a country girl and proud of it.
“Are you ready to try something spicy?” he asks.
“Maybe?”
That’s all the encouragement he needs to start leading me around the dance floor.
With his hand firmly on my hip and his confident foot work, I’m a passenger along for the ride as he whips me around.
As the song ends, he twirls me out and pulls me back into his arms. My hand lands on his very firm chest.
I wish I could call Mallory and tell her about this moment. A year ago, she would have enjoyed the story of me dancing with my fictional boyfriend in real life. Now, that conversation is only a passing thought.
“How was that?” he asks as he leads me from the dance floor.
I have a huge smile on my face. “Fun.”
What’s really fun is I didn’t make a complete fool out of myself.
Those twenty-three dates I went on in a year (I never did get the last three) were practice preparing me for this move and this moment.
It’s empowering to know I can hold my own, even with a handsome man who makes me feel like a beautiful (dare I say, desirable?) woman.
“Thanks for the dance, Miles.”
“You’re welcome, Stella.”
DREW
I’m irritated Miles asked Stella to dance before I could. Stella’s my friend, not his. But this isn’t an elementary school playground, and Stella isn’t a basketball. She isn’t mine, as much as I wish she were.
I’ve put off asking her on an official date, but now realize that might have been a mistake.
Miles and Stella have a lot more in common than she does to me.
He’s a big shot banker from the city who moved to Blissful to manage the bank here while he raises his daughter in a small town.
He’s smart, successful, and isn’t afraid to make a move.
What if I lose her before I have the chance to tell her how I feel? And yet, I still have a road block keeping me from asking her out because I don’t know if she’ll stay.
Miles walks Stella toward the table. I stand to intercept her before any of these other bozos here tonight get the chance, when Quinn steps in front of me.
“Hi, Drew,” she says, happy but also hesitant. Her hands are stuffed into the back pockets of her jeans, and she bites her bottom lip, as if unsure how I'll respond. I don’t know how to make myself anymore clear. Does she think confronting me in the place we first met will change my mind?
I tug on my ear, and a second later, Stella’s at my side. She loops her arm through mine.
“Let’s dance,” she says.
She stole the words out of Quinn’s mouth.
I follow her willingly. I place one hand on her hip, and take her hand in mine.
Her free hand goes to my shoulder, but she steps close enough that her arm from wrist to elbow lays along my upper arm.
Just as we start to sway, the song ends, and a slow one starts. I pull her a quarter inch closer.
Quinn sits down with a few of her Blissful friends, her eyes sad and her shoulders drooping. I’m glad she’s not alone.
“Are you happy you came?” I ask.
“Yes. Your friends are wonderful. Miles really surprised me by asking me to dance. I don’t usually get attention from men.”
“Yeah, well, men in Tucson are blind and stupid apparently. Are you ready to learn how to dance? I can teach you, and not just pull you around the dance floor.”
There’s a definite dig there at the man I will not name.
“Yes.”
“Let’s start with the sidestep, which is a sway, but we turn in a circle as we do it.”
Which is how we spend the next few songs practicing different moves. Much like her guitar lesson, she’s a studious listener and easy to lead.
When we get back to the table, my friend Kyle stands at our approach. I didn’t miss how he gazed at Stella through most of dinner, though she didn’t seem to notice.
“I wanted to ask,” he says to her. “Tomorrow is the adult scavenger hunt around town. My partner is sick, and I was wondering if you’d like to do it with me?”
“Sorry, man,” I say before Stella can speak. “We’re already paired up.”
It’s a horrible thing to do. Maybe Stella would prefer to be partners with Kyle, but if she’s doing the scavenger hunt, I want to be the one doing it with her.
Stella could very easily poke through my lie by asking what the scavenger hunt is, but she nods and smiles. “Sorry, Kyle. Thanks for asking.”
“Next time,” Kyle promises.
“Sure,” she agrees easily.
Not if I have anything to do with it.
Once we’re back in our seats, I text Ross, the guy who runs the scavenger hunt. I ask if I can still join, hoping I didn’t make a liar of myself.
ROSS: You’re lucky. I had a team drop out ten minutes ago. Next year don’t wait until the last second.
DREW: Thanks.
Stella yawns and tugs on her ear.
I take her cue and we say goodbye to everyone sitting at the table. As we walk to the door, Miles winks at Stella. She blushes and waves goodbye. Next we pass Quinn. She watches me with sad eyes. I give her a tight nod. Stella, the woman with the squishy heart, gives her a kind smile.
Once outside, Stella loops her arm through mine. “Do you want to tell me what this scavenger hunt is that you’ve signed me up for?”
“Ross owns the game store, and, every October, he plans a scavenger hunt. Eighteen years or older. Blissful residents only. Teams of two. Using clues, we run around finding busts of famous cartoon characters hidden around town. We take a selfie with each one to prove we found it.”
Her forehead wrinkles in thought. “Busts? Like the statue heads?”
“Yep. There’s a Bugs Bunny, Popeye, Charlie Brown, and others. It's timed, and points are determined by how quickly we go from one to the next. If you see any other team and have a picture to prove it, they get points docked. So you want to be quick, but also stay hidden.”
I unlock the passenger side door and hold out a hand to help Stella up on the running board. I walk around the front, and once I’m inside the cab, she asks, “What do the winners get?”
“Bragging rights.”
She frowns. “That’s it?”
“Yeah. It’s competitive. There are rivalries that go back to the beginning.”
The truck starts with a deep hum, breaking into the silence. I pull out of the space.
“How long ago did it start?” she asks.
“Ten years, I think.”
“Have you ever won?”
I look both ways and pull out on the main road. “Nope. I actually haven’t played for a while. Quinn didn’t like it, and, after she left, I wasn't interested.”
“Now you are interested?”
“Now I have someone I want to have on my team,” I say.
She looks out the side window and doesn’t speak for a minute.
Did I make her uncomfortable? Whenever I compliment her, she always blushes and looks away.
“If you’d rather not play, that’s okay,” I say. “It’s not for everyone”
I pull onto Second Street.
Stella looks back at me, her beautiful face illuminated only by the dashboard lights.
She’s smiling. “I love games like this. You could take the long way home and tell me about these rivalries. If we’re going to win bragging rights, you need to prepare me for what’s in store. We have less than a day to prepare.”
When we reach the intersection where I turn right to get home, I keep driving straight. I’m not about to say good night before I have to.