by Vivien Dean
What did he like to do? He spent time outside. He liked people and being around them. Those were obvious, though. I needed the less-than-obvious.
Then it hit me.
“Dinner,” I announced.
“Okay,” he said. “Where are we going?”
“We’re not. We’re going to make it. Together.”
The polite acceptance of a moment ago brightened to genuine interest as I’d hoped. Fisher had mentioned a couple times on his blog how he was trying to improve his cooking skills and how much fun he was having doing it. “Oh? How’s that going to work?”
“We’ll do it as a challenge. Like Chopped.” I’d only seen a couple episodes, mostly by accident, but Fisher referenced it whenever he talked about his own creations so I knew it was a favorite. “Each of us picks two ingredients for each course, then on Friday, we’ll call from the grocery store to find out what the other expects us to buy. Instead of getting chopped, though, we decide whose dish turned out the best by how much we enjoyed it. Best two out of three wins.”
“Wins what?”
“The choice of what we do on our second date.”
It was a bold declaration, and frankly, I had no idea how I was going to get my parents out of the house on a Friday night so I could have Fisher to myself, but now that I’d stated it aloud, I wanted it more than anything. It sounded like the perfect first date for both of us.
“With a prize like that, how can I say no? Friday night just got a lot more interesting.”
“Same here.” I poked at the screen. “Now go to sleep. I don’t want you blaming me tomorrow when you’re exhausted.”
He gave me a smart salute. “Yes, sir!”
Laughing, I shook my head I in mock disapproval. “G’night.”
“See you on Friday.”
Four words had never sounded so perfect.
Chapter 6
I have a date tonight. A first date. I’m nervous and excited and hopeful and scared and probably more emotions I’m too anxious to put a name on. In all honesty, I haven’t felt like this since the day I launched the blog. Dating’s not new territory by a long shot, but he is, in the very best possible way. He surprises me. After everything I’ve been through, I’d thought I could never be surprised again.
Do you know how good that feels? That flutter in the pit of your stomach because you know just enough to feel safe but not so much that you can predict exactly how everything will play out? It’s an adrenaline rush that hones your senses. Colors are brighter. Sounds are clearer.
We’re cooking dinner together tonight. I’m going to bet every bite tastes fantastic, even if it’s not.
My hope is that this won’t be the last time I talk about him. I know he’s reading this—and that’s another relief, knowing upfront that he’s aware of everything I’ve been through and everything I do and likes me anyway—so I know he’s going to see this as added pressure about tonight. That’s not how I intend it. I’m sharing my excitement with all my blog friends about something that is sending me into work with a huge smile on my face.
So, N…stop worrying.
* * * *
He was right. My first reaction when I woke up on Friday and saw his blog post was to start overthinking, dwelling on all the ways tonight could possibly go wrong. But then I let the magnitude of what he’d done sink in for more than a moment.
He was as excited about tonight as I was. It was important enough to him to risk sharing it with the blogosphere, complete with commentary. A few people had already chimed in by the time I got up, too. The usual early responders, from the look of it, those who watched Fisher’s back and were the first to stand up and cheer whenever he deserved it.
Keeping my fingers crossed for you!!!
Why wouldn’t he like you? All of your followers can’t be wrong, you know.
Do we get to hear all the juicy details?
I wondered how they would react if they knew the date was with one from their own ranks, or how disappointed they’d be if they knew the full extent of the arrangement. Those were questions I wouldn’t be able to answer today, though, so I let them go.
Work flew by. That was a shock. I expected the hours to drag, but I was in such a good mood, it was easy to relax and focus on the patients instead of the clock. At five, I was off-duty and on my way home to ensure the first part of my night would go off without a hitch.
Dez rang me as I pulled up in front of the house. I’d talked to her a couple times this week, but each chance I had to tell her what I’d done, I chickened out. I was too afraid of hearing her decry a virtual date as pathetic to risk losing her friendship.
“I hear you’re going to have the house to yourself tonight,” she said in lieu of hello. “Please tell me I can come and hang out. I need a serious change of scenery.”
Since my plan hinged on Janet, I didn’t have to ask how she knew. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Mom and Dad’s cars were both in the driveway. I leaned against mine so I didn’t have this conversation inside. “I have plans.”
“Since when?”
“Since Monday.”
“You’ve had all week to tell me, and I have to hear from Grandma that she and Gramps are taking your parents to Win River?”
Though she emphasized her annoyance, the underlying hurt was unmistakable. Either I told her the truth, or I put our friendship in jeopardy. “I kind of have a date.” I heard her sharp intake of breath, poised for the explosive questions I wasn’t prepared for, so I jumped in to head her off. “I didn’t tell anybody because I kept expecting it to fall through. We just started talking, and the possibility of tonight came up, so I grabbed it.”
“That’s why you want your parents out of the house,” she said. “That makes more sense now.”
“Please don’t tell Janet.”
“Why would I tell Grandma? It’s not any of her business if you go on a date, no matter what she might think. Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell a soul.”
I exhaled in relief. I should’ve trusted Dez from the start. “Thank you.”
“My silence comes at a price, though.”
“What?” I braced for the worst.
“I want deets later. You can come pick me up tomorrow morning so we can hang all day.”
“Deal.” If the date went well, I’d have the courage to tell her the whole story. And if it didn’t…well, I’d find some way to make it funny so my disappointment wasn’t as obvious. “I gotta go,” I said when the front door opened and my parents stepped out. I gave them a little wave. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“You better.”
“Was that Janet’s granddaughter?” Mom asked as they reached their car.
Sometimes, I could’ve sworn Mom had a secret psychic gene she kept tucked away for moments such as this. “Yeah. We’re going to hang out tomorrow.”
“You should invite her over tonight. There’s plenty of food in the fridge.”
I faked a yawn. “I’d just fall asleep on her. I’m going to change and then go check out Redbox to see if there’s anything good to rent.” On impulse, I gave Mom a quick hug. “You two have fun.”
“I’ll settle for cleaning out the blackjack table,” Dad grumbled.
With a laugh, I waved them off, waiting until they were out of sight before making a break for the house. Though I changed my clothes in record time, fussing with my hair took an additional ten minutes in front of the mirror. I didn’t know how much I’d be visible on our date—we’d agreed to set up our phones on video chat to get a bigger picture of what we were doing so the other could watch if he wanted—but I still wanted to make the best impression I could.
On the way to the grocery store, I stuck in the new Bluetooth earpiece I’d express shipped from Amazon and called Fisher. He answered on the first ring.
“You there yet?” he said.
“Almost. You got your list ready?”
“Of course.”
The arrangement was, as soon as we got to the stor
e, we emailed the other with our pairs of mystery ingredients for each of our courses. Then, we had ten minutes to find them, at which point we’d Skype with video to share the contents of our carts. We’d stay on the line for the drives home, then set up the camera as a video connection so we could talk and watch each other as we cooked.
I had no idea if it was going to work. But from the tone of his voice, we were both excited about trying it out.
After I parked, I emailed him the short message I had ready. Less than a minute later, his list came through. I laughed as soon as I saw it.
Because of regional differences, we’d agreed to keep it simple. Nothing the other couldn’t easily buy, no duplicates, and nothing over five dollars. We also couldn’t do more than one protein for the entire meal. We would’ve been screwed if one of us decided to mess with the ingredient list and our entrees turned into variations on turducken.
Fisher had still had fun with his ingredients.
Appetizer: Black licorice, eggplant
Entrée: Blue cheese, Portobello mushrooms
Dessert: Sugar ice cream cones, bacon
The list I’d sent him hadn’t been nearly as creative.
Appetizer: Raspberries, spinach
Entrée: Chicken thighs, avocado
Dessert: Dark chocolate chips, hazelnuts
The one difference we had with the show—which was going to work out better for me anyway—was having longer than a minute or two to figure out what to cook. I had all the shopping time, plus the drive home to come up with something I could both cook and would want to eat out of these.
As I sat there debating my options, a text pinged through.
And the clock starts…NOW!
“Shit!” I burst from my car and ran for the front door, garnering more than a few odd looks along the way. Ten minutes was going to go fast, though hopefully nothing would be too hard to find.
I grabbed a cart instead of a basket so I would have both hands free. Produce was first, and though the mushrooms the store had were pretty pathetic, I was on my way to meats within two minutes. Then it was the baking aisle and the dairy section where I decided it was a very good thing I wasn’t carrying a basket. They didn’t have small portions of blue cheese. The block I got was heavy.
Ice cream cones were next to the freezer section, which left me scanning the candy aisle for black licorice when my phone rang.
“Damn it,” I said under my breath. Then I spotted the bag. I let out a sigh of relief as I tossed it into my cart and answered the call.
“That was the fastest ten minutes of my life,” I said.
“Tell me about it,” Fisher replied with a laugh.
His panting was audible over the line. “Why are you out of breath?”
“Because our Publix is huge, and all the cheese is on the other end of the store from the produce.”
It was my turn to laugh. “This might be the first time I’ve ever been glad to live in a small town.”
“Are you done?”
“Yep. Ready to confirm?”
“Ready.”
We disconnected the regular call to video through Skype instead. After showing each other our groceries, we stayed on the line while we headed to the register.
“I wish I was there so we could do this in person,” Fisher surprised me by saying.
I nearly ran into a display of Cap’n Crunch as I rounded the end of the aisle. “Me, too.” The sudden emotion running through me scared me into pitching my voice lower as I glanced around to see who might be listening in. “But for the record, this is shaping up to be pretty damn awesome anyway.”
“Yeah, it is.”
We kept it light after that, with Fisher trying to goad me into sharing what I was planning on cooking and me giving him a hard time about cheating on our times. He hadn’t, at least I didn’t think he had, but the way he got so defensive just prompted me to tease him more until he finally put me in charge of the timer once we got back to our respective kitchens.
For the entire drive home, my spirits soared. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun, and we hadn’t even got to the bulk of the date yet. What would it have been like if we actually met in person?
* * * *
“You have got to write down what you did to that chicken and send me the recipe,” Fisher said. “That looked amazing.”
It had tasted pretty good, too, if I did say so myself. Though Fisher had easily won—my attempts to make a black licorice and raspberry dressing for my ratatouille had scorched one of Mom’s pans, and Fisher had made a damn chocolate cake with caramelized bacon as his dessert—I’d managed to use his ingredients to elevate the stuffed chicken thighs Mom did for Christmas Eve dinner to a brand new level. It was so good, I hadn’t even bothered to eat more than a bite of my dessert—an apple crumble with all the mystery ingredients as the topping—before going back to the second portion of chicken I’d prepared.
Now I was stuffed, which was why I was sprawled on my bed, talking to Fisher after cleaning the kitchen so Mom and Dad wouldn’t know the extent of what I’d done in there tonight.
“I’ll do it tomorrow,” I promised. “I should be out of my food coma by then.”
Fisher chuckled. He hadn’t made it to his bed like I had. He was stretched out on his couch with his laptop propped up against his knees. “That might be the only good reason for us to be on different sides of the country.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, this would be the point where I’d start thinking about making a move,” he explained. “If you’re so stuffed, you’d have to turn me down, and then I’d be all self-conscious about you not being as into me as I am into you, and then I’d probably embarrass myself trying to convince you that a second date would be totally worth it in spite of our differences. So really, you being there and me being here is for the best, because now I can’t fuck it up and you can say yes to a second date with a clear conscience.”
The last was said with a smile, but I heard the hesitation behind the teasing. “I would’ve said yes anyway. Tonight was…fantastic. Though I might think that because I don’t have something else to compare it to.”
“No, it was fantastic,” Fisher said. “And I have a lot of dates to compare it to, so you have to trust that I know what I’m talking about.”
My heart pounded. He might’ve been looking for a silver lining about this being long distance, but I’d never wanted to touch another person so badly in my entire life. “You won the bet,” I said. “Which means you get to pick what we do next. Since you’re the expert, what’s the protocol for second dates?” What I was really asking was how long I had to wait, but I didn’t dare phrase it like that without looking desperate.
It didn’t matter. He heard what I meant without having to utter the actual words. “I don’t want to wait if I don’t have to. Can I see you Sunday afternoon?”
Of all the days to pick…“I have to work.” I did my best to hide how disappointed I was, but by the way his smile faded, I don’t think I did a very good job. “What about in the evening?”
Fisher shook his head. “There’s this party I have to go to. I was hoping you could go shopping with me to find something to wear.”
I was missing watching Fisher change in and out his clothes with express opinion to appreciate it? Me and my rotten luck. “And we can’t do that tomorrow?”
Fisher shook his head. “I have to spend the day at my folks’. And I’m back to work on Monday.”
“Then I guess it’s next weekend some time.” I didn’t dare suggest a weekday date. It would be a lot harder to explain to my parents, and the later hour in Florida would restrict our options.
“Damn. That’s seven days away.”
“We can still chat this week after work, can’t we?”
“I’m counting on it.”
“And is there some reason one of those can’t be a date?”
I loved the fresh smile that bloomed on his face. “Ha
ve I mentioned tonight how much I like the way you think?” Fisher said. “Monday, eight o’clock your time, then?”
That would be eleven his time, which gave me at least two hours with him before I’d start feeling guilty about keeping him up. It wasn’t the gift of time I’d had tonight, but I had no right to ask for more.
“Sounds like a date.” My fingers trembled as I reached out and touched his jaw on my screen. “Am I going to wake up tomorrow to find another post about me on your blog?”
“Not a chance. I’m flying too high to do anything but babble for the next twenty-four hours. Sunday, on the other hand…”
I laughed. “The price for dating a big deal blogger, I guess.”
“I’m hardly a big deal.”
“You are to me.”
“Which is exactly why Sunday’s post is likely to babble anyway. Sometimes I think you’re too good to be true.”
I tried not to squirm. I still wasn’t comfortable when he turned those rose-colored glasses in my direction. “The feeling’s mutual.”
I was still touching the screen, though it was a pale comparison to what the real deal would be. When Fisher reached up and did the same, I closed my eyes to better pretend what his skin would feel like against my cheek.
“This is the only part of dating you I don’t like,” I heard Fisher say.
“Me, too,” I whispered.
“Can you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Pretend I kissed you good night.”
My skin burned at the images that suddenly flooded my head. “Will do.”
I swear I felt him for hours after we finally disconnected.
Chapter 7
“Did you always want to be a sonographer?”
Tonight, we weren’t bothering with video. Fisher had called while I was cleaning up from supper, and I’d retreated to my bedroom to hide out for the night. We’d fallen into talking so fast, neither one of us brought up the idea of switching to Skype, so currently I was stretched out on top of my blankets, wearing my earpiece instead of holding onto my phone, with my eyes closed as I let his voice wash over me.
