by Mia Kayla
He smiled at my discomfort, which made me laugh.
“Maybe,” I replied.
“Well, you don’t need anything extra. You’re beautiful just the way you are,” Brian said, leaning back against his chair to assess me.
“Whoa, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one.”
“It’s not a line. It’s the truth. Baby, I’ve got lines, but I haven’t used one on you yet.”
I felt myself tighten as I became nervous from his charm. I looked toward the couple having dinner next to us and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
“So, Beth, tell me, what’s a nice girl like you doing without a boyfriend?”
“So upfront with the questions. This is definitely not cafeteria talk. I can ask you the same thing. Why no girlfriend? I’m sure it’s not because there aren’t any takers.”
“You first.” He leaned in, resting his elbows on the table.
“I had my first and only boyfriend in high school, but we grew apart. I-I mean, we wanted different things, so we broke up.”
He tapped his fingers lightly on his chin. “Sounds like you are a heartbreaker, Bethany Casse,” he remarked.
“Hardly. I’m totally not.” I paused, thinking of what had gotten me here. “He thought my life began and ended with him. My life began when I got that call from Financial State, telling me I’d gotten the job,” I said, my eyes lighting up.
I remembered that day so clearly. I’d screamed so hard from excitement that the neighbors heard.
“Where it ends, I don’t know. I just know I’m having fun since it began.” And I was. Since I’d moved to Chicago, everything was finally falling into place.
“And the night has only begun,” Brian said, smiling devilishly at me.
When dinner was over, I patted my stomach when Brian wasn’t looking.
“So, you ready to go?” he asked as he took the receipt and placed it in his wallet.
“Can we sit here for a second?” I totally hadn’t indulged like I usually would. I’d wanted to pace myself, and I hadn’t wanted to eat more than my date, making me think I was more nervous than I’d led myself to believe.
“So, now, it’s my turn. Did you think that just because the food came, I’d forget to grill you about your past love life?” Underneath the table, I rubbed my belly that was pushing against the elastic band of my skirt as I eyed the leftover steak on his plate. I should have foregone the sexy and worn a looser skirt.
“Well, okay then, shoot. What do you wanna know?” Brian asked, leaning back on his chair.
“So, why no girlfriend?” A little silent burp escaped my lips. I doubted he’d heard it because he continued to answer my question.
“I moved here two years ago from Wisconsin. Like you, I was busy and stuff. No time for a girlfriend.”
“Come on, busy with what? Work? If a man wanted to make time, he would,” I said.
“You’re right. I just didn’t want one. I had a long-term girlfriend in high school and a short-term girl in college. That was real short because she’d slept with my frat brother.”
My eyes widened at his revelation. “She cheated on you?” I leaned in, wanting more details and wondering why anyone in her right mind would turn away such long-term material.
“Yep, she played me like the player she was.” He laughed it off. “It’s fine. We were young. Plus, I did some playin’ in my day, too.”
“I’m shocked. That totally doesn’t sound like you.”
“You are only a cheater if you are in a serious relationship. I wasn’t,” Brian said. “I’m not that guy.” He smirked. “When I moved here, I didn’t have time. I worked a lot in the beginning. Financial State doesn’t mess around. Plus, I wasn’t looking for something serious.”
“Oh,” I said as my voice dropped.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I replied.
“Was not,” he pointed out. “Past tense. I wasn’t looking for something serious back then.”
His smile made my heart rate speed up, and I nervously played with the edge of my napkin.
“I haven’t been on a date like this in a while. If you haven’t noticed, I like you. I think I told you that already. You’re not like every other girl I’ve met down here. That’s probably because you’re not originally from here.” He laughed, but then his voice became serious. “You remind me of home, Beth. You’re funny and real.”
At his admission, I thought I saw him blush slightly, but he immediately shrugged it off and grabbed my hand.
“Come on. Let’s go to our next destination.”
We made our way down to Michigan Avenue. People bustled around us, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t the silence like home that made me fond of Chicago. It was the lights, tall buildings, and the cars whizzing by and honking their horns. It was the noise and everything opposite of my hometown that made me love Chicago.
As we walked, Brian talked about his family. I laughed at his stories as he held my hand. I could imagine every grade-school girl having a crush on this humorous blue-eyed, blond boy, who later turned into a high school star quarterback. I couldn’t hide my small sense of pride from him holding my hand when he had so many admirers at work.
“Sorry. Sometimes, I talk too much. How about you? Tell me about your family.”
I froze at his question. “Nothing to tell.” A nervous laugh escaped my lips.
“Come on,” he pressed, peering down at me. “I want to know more about Bowlesville and you. Tell me about your folks. Tell me about your childhood and high school.” He squeezed my hand as we walked. “Not fair. You know all about me.”
“Life in Bowlesville is not very exciting. Only child. Typical childhood. My father died a while back,” I said, glancing down at my shoes.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Brian said as we stopped at a crosswalk.
“No, it’s okay. It happened a long time ago.”
My dad was dead to me, given I didn’t know who my father was.
I’d told Brian the truth, my truth. I released my hand from his to pick up a can from the ground, and I tossed it into the garbage.
“How about your mom?”
“She’s back in Bowlesville. You know, doing the same thing she’s always done.”
I touched my half-ponytail nervously, speeding up to cross the street. I didn’t want to taint our perfect night with reliving my past, especially when everything he’d told me about his childhood had been straight from an episode of Leave it to Beaver. I finally relaxed when we were in front of my apartment. I didn’t want him asking me anything more about my past.
“So, what are you doing next weekend?” he asked. He lifted my chin to meet his eyes. “Actually, next weekend is too far away. What are you doing tomorrow?”
I suddenly felt shy as I peered up at him. “Are you trying to ask me on a second date?” I asked.
“Maybe,” Brian replied, lightly brushing my bangs away with his finger.
“Well, you’re not playing this game very well. First, you have to wait a couple of days before you call, making me wonder, and then you can ask me out. Hello? I know you’ve done this before,” I said teasingly.
“Why play games when I already know what I want?” he said, still smiling his boyish smile.
I blushed at his comment. I remembered I’d told Kent that I would have brunch with him. “Uh…well, I’m hanging out with Kent tomorrow afternoon, but tomorrow night, I’m free.”
“Kent? From Plack Industries?” His smile faltered. “So, you and Kent are just friends, right?”
“Yeah, we’re just friends,” I said, reassuring him. “Trust me, he’s not into monogamous relationships. He’s far from it. He sleeps with everyone who’s breathing.” I laughed.
“It’s strange though,” Brian shrugged, “for a guy to hang out with a girl as much as he does with you and not want more than friendship.”
“We’re just friends. Really!” I exclaimed.
He wasn’t convinced as he raised his
eyebrows in question.
“I’ve seen him with other girls—seen him be with other girls.”
I made a face at the memory, and he laughed.
“That’s some kind of weird relationship you have there,” he said, amused at my discomfort.
“Oh no, I accidentally caught him. It’s not like he let me watch.” I shook my head as I felt my face flare up. “I don’t know why we are talking about this. Kent is a friend,” I said in finality. “Plus, I don’t know many people here in Chicago, and I like hanging out with him.” I started to sound defensive, and I was sure he could see that I was getting frustrated.
He lifted my chin to face him, meeting my eyes. “I believe you. Only friends. That’s the end of that conversation.”
“Okay,” I said softly. I turned and made my way toward my door.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I believe you’re just friends,” Brian said, tugging on my arm.
“No, it’s not that. I have to get up early on Sunday for brunch.”
“Okay. Well, uh…I had a great time tonight, Beth.”
It was that awkward moment after the first date—when I didn’t know if we should kiss or not. It wasn’t like we hadn’t kissed before. If anything, his tongue had definitely been shoved down my throat on that bar’s dance floor. This was a formal date though, and it felt different.
We looked at each other, and in that nanosecond, I wondered who would make the first move.
Overthinking this made me smile and then laugh. I tiptoed and pecked him on the lips. I’d had the perfect date, and he deserved a first-date kiss. I felt his smile on my lips before I pulled away.
“Beth, girls don’t usually make me nervous, but you do.” He pulled at my waist, bringing me closer toward him. Looking down at me, he placed his lips lightly on mine.
His lips moved against mine, slow and deliberate. He tasted of wholesome, good-boy sweetness. It wasn’t the drunken sloppy kiss that had happened at the bar. When he finally pulled away, I was breathless, and it looked like he was, too, which gave me pure satisfaction.
“Thanks for a wonderful night,” Brian said, releasing me.
I stumbled back, still high on that kiss. When I regained my footing, I waved to him as he held the door open for me. I thought my heart skipped a beat as I rode up the elevator. I touched my lips where he had just kissed as I leaned against the wall of the elevator for support.
When I entered my apartment, my phone started buzzing in my purse. I reached in to pick it up.
“Hey, just wanted to see that you got inside safely,” Brian said.
“I did.” I was smiling like a giddy little schoolgirl, and I was glad he couldn’t see how cheesy I truly looked.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Beth. Good night.”
“Good night.”
I hung up the phone and started doing the happy dance before jumping up and down twice.
Life in Chicago so far was all I’d imagined and hoped it would be.
I was up, bright and early the next morning for brunch. “Hey, you,” I sang in my cheery singsong voice as I approached Kent, waiting outside my apartment.
I linked arms with him as he led us to our destination.
“Shh,” he whispered, wearing sunglasses even though there was no sun in sight.
I had a feeling he’d had a long night. He walked slower than usual and his eyebrows pulled together as though he was in deep concentration but most likely it was because his head hurt from the light.
“Okay, so where are we going?” I yelled obnoxiously as we walked.
“Please, Beth, have mercy.” He pulled me in the other direction, and we started heading toward the lake.
“I’m sorry. That was mean. You could have canceled. I would have understood. Long night?” I asked, immediately feeling bad. It wasn’t like I’d never had a hangover before.
He stopped at the corner and raised his hand to hail down a cab. “Was it ever. I woke up with a woman lying next to me. That never happens. I was so wasted that I didn’t have time to show her out,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
I rolled my eyes, but he didn’t see as he opened a cab door. I scooted inside and Kent stepped in behind me.
“The Bongo Room,” Kent told the cab driver.
“The Bongo Room sounds more like a club than a breakfast place,” I said.
“Trust me, it’s good food. I know you’ll appreciate that.” He leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes.
I decided I’d give him some peace and quiet until we reached the restaurant. I thought back to the night before with Brian. I had hoped he would have called me to say good morning. I forgot that only boyfriends did that, not someone I had only been on one date with.
When I looked over at Kent, he was staring at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You have this ridiculous grin on your face. Did you get laid last night?” he asked, still leaning his head against the seat.
My eyes flipped to the cab driver who had his eyes focused on the road. Kent had no regard for who was or wasn’t listening. He didn’t get embarrassed easily—or more likely, he just didn’t care.
“No,” I said, glancing back to him. “It was the first date. Hello? Girls don’t give it up on the first date,” I whispered.
“Clara from last night would beg to differ,” he said.
“Okay, too much information, buddy,” I said, making a face at his comment. How the heck did I become good friends with a man-whore?
“I don’t want to know about your hooker last night. Let me rephrase what I said earlier. This girl,” I pointed to myself, “does not sleep with guys on the first date.”
We reached the Bongo Room before the conversation could continue any further. He paid and grabbed my wrist to pull me out of the cab.
I tugged myself from his grasp. “Why do you do that? I can walk on my own, you know.”
Kent shrugged and held the door open for me.
My stomach grumbled as we entered the restaurant. The sweet smell of maple syrup and the greasy scent of eggs and bacon filled my nose. We were seated immediately even though there was a very long wait at the front of the restaurant. I had to wonder if Kent had slept with the greeter or if his dad was one of the investors at this establishment.
After the waitress took our orders, he placed his sunglasses on the table and his head in his hands.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Maybe you should drink some water.”
“No, it’s okay. I just need coffee. I’ll feel better after coffee.” Kent lowered his head and ran his hands back and forth through his hair. “Tell me about your date.”
I instantly smiled, but he couldn’t see. “You don’t want to know about my date.”
“I do. I like hearing your happy, happy stories. It’s entertaining. Go on, do tell.” He lifted his head from the table. “Where did you guys go?”
I started retelling the events from the night before—the flowers, the dinner, the walk home. A dimple emerged on his face as I talked and swooned about my date with Brian, recalling every tiny detail. Kent let out a low laugh when I told him how I’d held back on eating, not wanting to scarf down more than my date.
“I like seeing you happy,” he said when I finally finished.
His comment was so unexpected. It surprised me. “Why?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow and cast me a look. “Can’t a friend be happy for another friend? It’s a natural reaction.”
“Well, let’s be real here. You’re not a very nice person.”
He laughed in amusement.
“Kent Plack, you don’t care about anyone but yourself,” I said teasingly. “Who else do you like seeing happy?” I prompted.
“What kind of question is that?”
“Who?” I raised my eyebrows, waiting for his reply.
“My mother.”
“Who else?”
There was a slight hesitation, and I started laughing.
He paused, rai
sing his eyes to the ceiling. “Fine. I don’t care about many people, okay?”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
The waitress came to pour our coffee. Her eyes flicked to Kent’s as the dark liquid filled his mug. He didn’t notice that she was checking him out. Maybe if he wasn’t hungover, he would look up to see that she was attractive in a simple, non-trying way—or maybe, that was why he didn’t notice her. The girls I’d seen him with were the flashy porn-star type. I watched him pour creamer into his cup as a whiff of fresh-brewed coffee moved my way.
He sipped his drink in silence, and I bit my tongue to prevent myself from yapping about my date again. I would let the caffeine settle in his veins before I went all jolly on him when he wasn’t feeling well.
The waitress dropped off our plates in front of us. Again, I noticed her eyes travel from his face to his arms before finally resting on his chest. She seemed shy as she didn’t try to get his attention like other women I’d seen him interact with. When our eyes caught, she turned and walked away to serve another table.
Kent leaned back and closed his eyes. His head tilted to the side, and I wondered why he’d come. He could have canceled, and I would have understood the need to stay locked up in small quarters with all the curtains drawn, head under a pillow, and earplugs in his ears.
Hungover. Been there. Done that. Not the best feeling in the world.
“I have to admit this is the best pancake in the world,” I said after a while. I savored the banana-caramel pancake melting in my mouth and sighed inwardly.
His head perked up, and he finally reached for his fork to take a bite of his food. “I’ve realized your peppy mood improves even more when you’re fed,” he said, studying me. “Usually, men are like that.”
“The way to this girl’s heart is through her belly.” I cut a piece of pancake and jammed it into my mouth for an exaggerated effect.
He laughed. “Okay, back to your date. If you like him so much, why didn’t you let him spend the night?”
I shook my head as I continued to chew my food.
