18. Eighteen
EIGHTEEN
I’d never been happier in my life.
Okay, happy and nervous at the same time.
Just being in proximity with Huxley was enough to get my heart pounding.
He’d gone out of his way for the date. Date, outing, whatever he wanted to call it.
He was obviously trying hard. I didn’t know what to make of it. I wanted to believe everything he was saying, and I didn’t for a second think that he was lying to me. I just didn’t know if he could follow through.
What if he only thought he was attracted to me?
What if he was attracted to me, but it was only lust? Those feelings could change easily.
What if he was only doing this because he’d picked up on the fact that I’d been crushing on him again, hard, and didn’t want to disappoint me?
What if all of this was going to go away in two weeks? Would he want to go back to being friends? Would he want to go back to not knowing me?
I didn’t want to think about any of those possibilities, but there were niggling doubts in the back of my brain even as we sat together in the hearse and listened to the tour guide, who claimed his name was Jason Myers.
He was energetic, and I had no doubt the ghost stories he was telling us were probably legitimate stories.
He was adding a surreal edge to each one, however.
Huxley sat close to me and kept a firm hold on my hand as we listened. I had questions, of course. I always had questions. Huxley seemed interested in my questions, however, and never once shot them down. In fact, he almost always branched out from my questions with questions of his own.
It felt great not to have him telling me that it didn’t matter or lamenting the fact that I asked a question at all. He seemed to want to hear every little thought that crossed my busy brain. Nobody had ever acted that way with me before, and I was both charmed and worried.
Could he keep this up? It was addicting to have somebody ask my opinion on something and actually listen to the answer, and not because he wanted to get into my pants.
Although given how tactile Huxley was being, it was pretty obvious he wanted to get into my pants.
He didn’t push things beyond hand-holding and back rubs for the tour — we hadn’t even kissed yet — but the anticipation was already building.
After the tour, I decided to test his dedication and pointed him toward Treylor Park - Hitch. It was a gastropub that was known for serving some of the most eclectic dishes in the city. Just think PB&J wings and chicken pancake tacos.
Huxley was gung-ho for the experience, however.
“This is … interesting,” he mused as he sat across from me and took in the environment. In his Star Trek phaser shirt, he fit right in with the crowd. I still didn’t know how comfortable he would be in this environment. I wanted to see for myself.
“It’s one of my favorite places,” I said. “Obviously, I haven’t been able to visit every restaurant since I moved here. That’s on my bucket list, though.”
“You want to visit every restaurant in Savannah?” Huxley’s eyebrows moved toward one another. “Do you think that’s feasible?”
“Probably not. Maybe it’s more like I should put together a list of the 100 restaurants I want to visit in town and do that.”
“I’m all for that.” He grinned. “Come up with your list. We’ll do it together.”
I wanted to ask if he thought he would make it through the list, but I didn’t. We’d had a wonderful date so far, and it wasn’t all that late. We still had time together. I didn’t want to bring the mood of our date down. Instead, I took a conversational detour.
“So, Treylor Park was founded about 12 years ago by a guy with the actual name Trey and a friend of his,” I started. “It was popular right out of the gate and grew into a weird vibe that people love. They even have a Treylor Park Beach Party location, along with this place.”
“It’s got a very weird menu,” he mused. “I want to try a few different things.”
“Are you sure?” I studied his face closely. “If this isn’t what you want …”
He didn’t sigh with frustration because I was worried. He didn’t bark at me to let it go. He just smiled. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
For some reason, the way he said it suggested he wasn’t just talking about the food. My cheeks started to burn, which made him grin.
“So,” he said, focusing on the menu, probably to give me a chance to recover without embarrassing myself. “You like fried green tomatoes, correct?”
I bobbed my head. “I love them. The ones here are especially good.”
“Okay, we’ll get the fried green tomatoes, PB&J Chicken Wings, and the avocado fries as appetizers.”
My eyes went wide. “That’s a lot of appetizers. Do you just want to do appetizers and no food?”
He made a face. “No. I want to try everything. If we have leftovers, we have leftovers. Some of them we might be able to take to your place and put in the fridge. Others, well, I’m not sure how avocado fries are going to reheat. The wings should be fine, though.”
I leaned closer so only he could hear me. “I think that peanut butter and jelly wings sound gross.”
He leaned closer, so his mouth was inches from mine. “I know, but they’re the kind of gross that might be amazing. I have to try them.”
I nodded. I understood what he was saying. Not knowing was worse than knowing. “Okay.”
“Good.” He took me by surprise when he kissed the tip of my nose. Then he went right back to perusing his menu as if he hadn’t stolen the oxygen from my lungs. What the hell was happening here?
“The fact that they have Kool-Aid on their drinks menu is a huge selling point to me,” he noted as I tried to keep myself from passing out.
When his lips had touched my nose, I was certain that I was having a brain aneurysm or something.
Even seconds later, I couldn’t make my lungs function properly.
“That means I’m going to start with the Cherry Cola, I think,” he continued, his full attention on his menu. “I’m definitely trying more than one of these drinks, though. I guess it’s good that I thought ahead and Ubered to your place.”
Slowly, my heartbeat returned to normal. Or, well, it was elevated still. How could it not be? It wasn’t in heart attack territory, though. “That was smart,” I agreed, my mind racing. “Lucy is with Hayley tonight, so she won’t be at my apartment.”
The second the words were out of my mouth, I recognized how they probably sounded to him, and I slapped my hand to my forehead. He was going to think I was propositioning him. “Doh!”
I couldn’t look Huxley in the eyes, but I could feel him looking at me. “Doh, huh?” He sounded amused. “Are you a fan of The Simpsons?”
“Not in a really long time,” I replied. “I’m more of a South Park girl.”
“Interesting.” He didn’t sound frazzled as much as amused. “I guess I didn’t realize Hayley and Lucy were already doing overnighters.” He sounded puzzled, so I took a risk and looked at him. “Seems fast,” he mused. The smile he shot me was kind. “I don’t move that fast.”
The panic I’d been feeling began to subside. “You don’t?”
“Not generally,” he replied. “I might have moved that fast back in college, but only because I was convinced that I would somehow get banned from sex for some reason. There was about a year in there where I rushed to have as much sex as possible because I was convinced somehow that somebody would take it away from me.”
The picture he was painting made me laugh. “Seriously?”
He shrugged. “When you’re a teenage boy, you think about sex a good 100 times a day. That’s not an exaggeration. When you finally get to have sex, it feels miraculous. You want to keep doing it in case it ever gets taken away from you.”
I burst out laughing.
“Teenage boys are dumb,” he assured me. “As for this relationship, I think we should take our time and not rush anything.”
“But …” I had to think about what he was saying. Wouldn’t he lose interest if he wasn’t getting sex?
Even though I hadn’t asked that question out loud, he seemed to read my mind. “I will not be pressuring you,” he said. “That’s not who I am. That’s not what this is about.”
My breath escaped in a gusty exhale. “Okay.”
He patted my hand. “When you’re ready, you’re going to tell me.”
Now, pressure of a different kind weighed down on me. “Um …”
“You’re going to tell me.” He was firm. “Now, let’s talk about these entrees.” He was unnaturally calm. “I’ve never considered ordering a pot pie at a restaurant, but I totally want to try this one.”
I was still dazed from what he had said, so I merely nodded. “I’m getting the Grapeful Dead and the Miyagi Beef tacos.”
“Are there onions on those?”
The question threw me. “No. Why?”
“Because sex may be off the table, but I plan to kiss the crap out of you later.” His smile was impish and charming. “I’ve waited as long as I can on that front.”
“Oh.” My heart started pounding again. “Um … no onions.”
“Just for the record, I would have kissed you with or without the onions.” He winked.
I had no idea what to say. Every cogent thought I had vacated my mind. I was in so over my head here that I had no idea which way it was to the surface.
I ATE WAY TOO MUCH FOR DINNER.
“I think my pants are going to burst,” I complained as I tugged at the elastic waistband of my capris. “I can’t remember the last time I ate so much.”
Huxley smiled as he held my hand and we walked down the sidewalk toward my apartment. We’d stopped at various little squares to read the plaques along the way. He swore he was interested in history and nothing more, but I knew the truth. He just wanted to prolong his time with me.
“We should sit.” He pointed toward a bench in one of the parks. All around us, we could hear people having a great time on various sidewalks as they bounced between bars. We were in our own little world, though, the only two people in the park.
I did as he instructed. It was getting late — we’d spent hours together, and it had felt like minutes — but I wasn’t ready to call it a night yet.
“Tell me about Hayley and Lucy,” he prodded. “How are things going with them?”