When she opens the door she looks as nervous as I feel. Which somehow makes me feel better. She’s wearing dark, tight jeans and a blue shirt that brings out the color of her eyes. She looks incredible.
“Hi,” I say, trying not to smile like an idiot. “You ready?”
She lets out a breath. “Yeah, I think so.”
She grabs her usual leather jacket off a hook by the door.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” she asks.
I smile down at her. “Nope, still a surprise.”
“Have her home by midnight!” Amanda calls from inside the apartment.
“She’s been a nightmare about this all day,” Gemma mutters, closing the door behind her.
“So has Lucas,” I tell her.
“They’re the worst,” we say at the same time and laugh.
“You look really nice,” I tell her.
“Thanks, so do you.” She eyes me approvingly. I ended up taking Gemma’s usual all black approach. Very Johnny Cash.
When we get to my car I stop outside the passenger door.
“Please, this one time, will you let me open the door for you? I promise I won’t make it a habit,” I say.
She smiles and shakes her head at me, bemused. “Fine, just this one time.”
We head to the restaurant, a little hole-in-the-wall Italian place a buddy of mine told me about. It’s BYOB, so when we get there I grab the brown paper bag from the cooler I stuck in the backseat.
“Spence!” Gemma hisses once we’re seated and I take the champagne I brought out of the bag. “This is a really expensive bottle of champagne.”
“Don’t worry about it. This is a special occasion.”
She frowns at me, but she looks a little impressed, too. This date is costing me a serious pretty penny, but it’s not like I spend money on anything else. This is worth it.
“They have risotto,” I say as I peruse the paper menu. “But it’s probably not as good as yours.”
“No, probably not,” she agrees.
We end up ordering the risotto and a few other things to share. The risotto is good, but not as good as hers.
Then we talk. We talk about anything and everything. We spend a decent amount of time trying to analyze the Lucas and Amanda thing, and then talk about how they’re probably at home talking about us, too.
It’s easy, talking to her. She’s funny, and a good listener. She seems actually interested in me. I don’t think I’ve ever had a girl ask me so many questions about my life the way she is. Like she wants to know the answers. And I get it, because I want to know the same things about her.
A smile plays on her lips as she takes a sip of champagne.
“This is really nice, Spence.”
“You just wait,” I say, grinning like an idiot. So far so good.
After dinner I tell the waiter we’ll pass on the dessert menu and just take the check and Gemma looks slightly disappointed.
“We don’t have time for dessert right now,” I tell her. “We have to get to our next destination.”
“Our next destination?” she says, confused. “This wasn’t the whole date?”
“No way.” I grin. “Not even close.”
We get back in the car and I cue up the playlist I made for tonight. After a few songs, she leans forward to turn it up.
“Is this…” she says, giving me a look.
“Is this what?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Everything you played that first night we hung out,” she says, her voice hushed as she listens. “When we played name that tune.”
“Date number one,” I confirm.
She shakes her head, a disbelieving look on her face. “You never cease to surprise me, you know that?”
I hold out my hand across the car, inviting her to take it. She does, and I give it a squeeze. “I hope that’s a good thing.”
She squeezes back. “Tonight it’s a very good thing.”
We’re running slightly behind schedule for the next part of the date. I park the car and she lets me open the door for her again, and then I’m ushering her down the sidewalk as fast as her little legs will carry her.
“Sorry, we’re running late,” I say, my hand on the small of her back.
“Running late for what?” she asks.
“You’ll find out in a minute.”
We get to the old movie theater at a little past nine. It’s been here forever, empty, one of those old-fashioned ones with a marquee and a ticket booth at the entrance. In the last few years it’s been refurbished and the town made it into a working theater again. There was a movie tonight at seven—something foreign with subtitles—but that was the only thing playing. After pulling a few strings and heavily greasing the palms of Lucas’s friend Greg, who works here, I managed to secure it for the second part of this date. But we were supposed to be here right at nine.
“You’re late,” Greg says when we walk in.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. We still good?”
“I had to shut down concessions, so I hope you didn’t want snacks because there aren’t any.” Greg is really helping to make this night super special.
“It’s fine,” I say under my breath. “Now can you try to be a little more courteous?”
He rolls his eyes but does what I ask. “Sir,” he says, giving me a little scowl before turning to Gemma with a somewhat more pleasant look on his face. “Madam. Right this way.”
Gemma holds on to my elbow and gives me a quizzical look, but I just smile at her. Greg opens the doors to the theater and lets us in. It’s completely empty.
“Where do you want to sit?” I ask, turning to Gemma.
She looks around, awestruck, then back at me. “Why isn’t there anyone else here?”
“Because this is a private viewing,” I tell her, and lead her down the aisle to the middle of the theater. She keeps looking around as if she can’t believe I’m telling the truth. The inside of the theater is incredible, all ornate carvings on the walls and a huge mural on the ceiling. The lights dim as we take our seats.
“How did you do this?” she whispers, incredulous.
I smirk. “I have my ways.”
The screen lights up and the opening scenes of Princess Bride play. Gemma squeezes my arm and turns to face me.
“Spence!” she hisses, a giant grin spreading across her face. “Are you kidding me right now?”
I chuckle and turn to look at her. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she says, leaning over to kiss me. “This is the best date ever.”
I kiss her back, and then it’s like I shouldn’t have even bothered with the movie, because neither of us is watching it.
“Can I tell you something?” I say, between kisses.
“Mmm?” she asks, her eyes still closed.
“This is the first date I’ve ever been on.”
She pulls away, surprise on her face. “Seriously?”
I nod, laughing. “Seriously. Never taken a girl on a real date before. I had no idea what I was doing.”
Gemma laughs, and it echoes around the room. She quickly puts a hand over her mouth.
“There’s no one here,” I tell her, laughing too. “We can be as loud as we want.”
“Spence, this date is like something out of the movies. For someone who’s never been on a date before you did a really, really good job.”
“Yeah?” I say, feeling pretty proud of myself.
“Yeah,” she says, kissing me again. “I’m even going to let you keep that smug look on your face, that’s how good you did.”
“You’re not just saying that to be nice?”
She snuggles up closer. “Stop fishing for compliments and watch the movie.”
“As you wish,” I say, lacing my fingers with hers on the arm rest between us.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Gemma
I didn’t go into my date with Spence with many expectations. But even if I had, he would have blo
wn them all out of the water. After the movie was over the guy working there turned on the house lights and practically shoved us out the door. Even that couldn’t bring me down from the high of the night.
Spence drove us home. He held my hand the entire car ride. We made out forever in his car, but he never once tried to push it further than that. When we got inside I thought for sure he’d ask whether we were going back to his place or mine. Instead he walked me to my door, kissed me goodnight, and left.
It was kind of jarring. After that date, I was on board, ready to go all the way. But if I’m learning anything about Spence, it’s that he’s full of surprises and he never does what I expect.
“Are you serious? The whole theater?” Amanda says, her eyes bugging out of her head. It’s the afternoon following my date with Spence and I’m telling her all about it.
“I know, right?” I sigh. “I’m ruined for every other date.”
“This is like, huge. He must really like you.”
“I don’t know.” I bite my lip. “He didn’t try to sleep with me. That’s weird, right?”
“I mean, yeah, kinda. Based on what we know about Spence. But I think it’s also weird that he took you on that epic date. Because that doesn’t match what we know about Spence, either.”
“That’s true,” I say, thinking about it.
“So now what?” Amanda asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you going to see him again?”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought about that. “I have no idea. I mean I’ll see him, obviously. But we didn’t talk about seeing each other.”
“I can’t imagine he would take you on a date like that and then not plan on hanging out with you again.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
I hope he wants to hang out with me again. Because I can’t stop thinking about him. I’ve been replaying every kiss we shared and imagining what it would be like to do more than that. If this was his plan - to bide his time until I’m the one to make a move - well, it’s working.
“The whole movie theater,” Amanda sighs. “Who knew Spence could be so romantic?”
“I don’t think Spence knew he could be so romantic,” I say.
“Maybe he’s changed his ways. Maybe you’ve tamed him.”
I make a face at her. “I highly doubt that.”
Has Spence changed his ways? Could he maybe want something beyond a one night stand? Everything I’ve been told about him tells me no, he doesn’t. But everything I’ve seen from him tells me yes, he does. My phone buzzes with a text and Spence’s name pops up on the screen.
“Oh look who it is!” Amanda says, glancing over at my phone. “Prince Charming himself.”
“Stop it,” I say, snatching up my phone.
“Are you going to forget about me now? Are you going to start spending all your free time with your new boy toy?” Amanda whines.
“You ran off to Vegas with a guy you’d been sleeping with for three weeks and got fake married. I’m pretty sure you forfeited your rights to comment on any of my relationships for the rest of our lives,” I say, standing up and taking my phone into my bedroom.
“Are you ever going to get over that?” Amanda huffs.
“Never in a million years,” I say, smiling sweetly at her as I close my door.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Spence
Lucas bursts into my room the day after my date with Gemma. I’m sitting at my desk, trying to work.
“Can I help you?” I ask him.
“Dude, you rented out a movie theater?” he says.
“What?” I ask, turning around to face him. “Who told you that?”
“Amanda!” he says, throwing his arms in the air. “And now she wants to know why I don’t take her on dates like that!”
I laugh. Apparently Gemma’s been bragging about me. “Well, I thought about taking Gemma to Vegas and fake marrying her but I didn’t want to copy you.”
“Are you ever going to let that go?” he says, shaking his head.
“Not in a million years.”
“Seriously, dude. You were stressed out and that’s what you had planned? I can’t believe you. Can’t you for once in your life half-ass something?” Lucas moans.
“No,” I say. “I do everything with my whole ass, all the time.”
“You’re serious about this, huh? This whole thing with Gemma?”
I shrug, noncommittal. “Maybe.”
Lucas gives me a skeptical look. “Don’t fuck this up,” he says, then leaves.
Lucas’s words keep ringing in my head, long after he’s left. Don’t fuck this up. Because it’s inevitable I will, right? I don’t know what I’m doing. Look at how things turned out with Fiona. Granted, I didn’t want to be with Fiona even half as much as I want to be with Gemma, but still. That was the only other time I’ve ever been in anything resembling a relationship and I fucked that up pretty bad.
Did I go a little overboard last night? Yes, definitely. Like, a lot overboard. Even I realize that. But I’ve been going overboard with Gemma from the moment I met her. I mean, I took her home to meet my parents when we still barely knew each other.
It’s more than just a physical attraction with her. With other girls, it’s been more of a “you’re cute, I’d like to have sex with you,” type of thing. And okay, yes, that’s how I felt about Gemma at first, too. But the more I get to know her, the more I want to keep getting to know her. These feelings towards her hit me like a freight train, and I’ve just been doing my best to hold on for the ride.
Gemma and I are sitting on her couch watching Mean Girls, which is oddly enough on the short list of movies we can agree on.
We’ve talked every day since our date and hung out a couple times, but not alone, I’ve made sure of that. I’ve gone down to Kincaid’s when I know she’s working and we’ve hung out at my place with Lucas and Amanda. Today is the first time we’ve hung out just the two of us, and I’m finding it hard to concentrate on the movie.
It’s not that I don’t want to take things further with Gemma, because I do. I really, really do. But I’m afraid the second we cross that line the spell will be broken. I’ve never felt this way about another girl before. I’ve also never really dated a girl before sleeping with her. I know what happens once I sleep with someone - things end. That’s always been the way I preferred it. But I don’t want things with Gemma to end. So I’m trying my best not to sleep with her to keep this thing between us going as long as possible, just in case.
But she isn’t making it easy. She’s snuggled up against me with her arm draped across my stomach and she’s slowly sliding her fingers up and down my ribs.
That small, insignificant touch is making my head spin.
“Hey,” I say, smiling down at her.
She looks up at me and smiles. “Hi there.”
“I like you,” I tell her. Because it feels important she know that.
She smiles even wider. “I like you, too.”
My face spreads into a goofy smile and I can feel my face twitching because I’m nervous. She sits up so her face is almost level with mine. A piece of hair falls forward over her face and I reach over to brush it away.
She leans even closer, her face inches away from mine.
If I don’t kiss her right now I’m going to explode, but I’m also afraid that if I kiss her I won’t be able to stop myself from taking things further.
She bites her lip and moves in closer, leaning her forehead against mine. The hand that was on my ribs slides up behind my neck and pulls my mouth into hers.
She kisses me hesitantly at first, and then more intensely when I reciprocate. Things escalate quickly and she lays back on the couch and I move to hover over her, letting her reach up for every kiss until she grabs my shoulders and pulls me down.
She’s breathing in little excited gasps and I realize I am, too. My heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest and a different part of my anatomy feels like
it’s going to bust out of my pants.
Her hands slide under my t-shirt and the feel of them on my bare skin sends a shiver up my spine. If I wasn’t so determined to prove something to myself I’d carry her into her room right now. Instead I pull away from her.
“This is as far as we’re going tonight,” I tell her, trying to catch my breath. “I’ve got band practice.”
She lets out a laugh that is both shocked and disappointed. “Seriously? You have to leave for band practice now? Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”
I shrug. “I forgot.”
“And you just remembered?” she asks, doubtful.
Truthfully, band practice isn’t for another couple hours. There’s plenty of time for me to carry her into her bedroom and do naughty, naughty things with her. But if I don’t get out of here soon my self-control will crumble.
“Should I be offended that band practice is what you were thinking about just now?” she asks.
“You definitely shouldn’t be offended,” I tell her, leaning in for one more quick kiss before I get up. “Believe me, I wasn’t thinking about band practice. But if I’m late the guys will kill me.”
She shakes her head at me. “Okay I guess.”
It pains me to do it, but I walk to the door and she follows me.
“You sure you can’t stay a little bit longer?” she asks, looking up at me with those big blue eyes. God, she’s good.
“No, I can’t.”
“Fine,” she pouts, and pulls me back down for another kiss.
“I’ve got to go,” I groan, pulling back from her.
She drags her mouth across mine and pulls on my bottom lip with her teeth. That move alone almost sends me over the edge.
“Okay, okay” she relents with a sigh, but she doesn’t let go of me and I make no moves to leave. “When am I going to see you again?”
“I live downstairs, you can see me whenever you want,” I tell her.
“Tomorrow?” she asks, hopeful.
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