by Kylie Keene
I meet him there at 7. I didn’t want him to pick me up at my place because my apartment is a total mess. I can tell he’s very neat and orderly so I feel the need to do a thorough cleaning before he comes over. Plus there’s the whole ‘my mom is an interior designer’ comment. His place probably looks like a design studio. Mine looks like a flea market.
The restaurant is very loud and crowded, which is not really my scene. That’s why I avoid going to clubs. But the restaurant itself is very cool and trendy. The walls are painted a deep blue and there’s mood lighting all around us. The bar has a teal glow behind it, highlighting the bottles of premium liquor. And above each small table hangs a green glass cylinder with a green lightbulb inside.
The tables are made of dark, thick slabs of wood with metal legs. And the chairs are neon green molded plastic. The whole place is modern and young and full of energy.
I look around and see girls all done up with lots of makeup and perfect hair, wearing sexy party dresses. The guys are more casually dressed; mostly pants, no jeans, and button-up shirts.
It seems to be the latest hot spot where all the cool people hang out. For the record, I am not, nor have I ever been, one of the cool people. I’m usually the last person to get in on a trend and this place is for people who like to be first. I get the feeling Grant is one of those people. But again, that’s good. Grant’s taking me out of my comfort zone. Introducing me to new things.
“I read about this place online,” Grant says as we’re waiting for a table.
It’s over an hour wait and we’ve already waited 35 minutes. I’m trying to act like I’m having fun, but my head is pounding from all the noise and I’m hungry and exhausted and I’d really just like to leave.
“Do you think we could maybe go somewhere else? It’s kind of loud in here.”
He can’t hear me so he leans in closer and I repeat the question.
“But we’ve already waited all this time. We’ll be seated any minute. Don’t you want to try the sushi?”
I nod. “Yeah, okay.” At this point, I really don’t want to try it. My sense of adventure faded about 20 minutes ago and now I just want a big, juicy cheeseburger and a cold beer.
A couple of guys bump into me as they come in the door, practically knocking me over. I move closer to Grant hoping to use him as a shield but his thin stature isn’t much of a barrier. I wish Grant was built more like Brad, with broad shoulders and big muscles.
We continue to wait, and a half hour later we’re finally seated. I have no idea how to order sushi. I should’ve looked it up online. Now I’ll have to wing it. I order and hope for the best.
Unfortunately, I didn’t do so well ordering and the sushi is so gross I can’t even eat it. Grant is devouring his.
“Is there something wrong with yours?” he asks.
“No, I’m just not that hungry. You can have mine if you want.”
He tries a piece. “That’s really good. I should’ve got that.”
I decide it’s time to fess up. I can’t keep lying to him or this will never go anywhere.
“I don’t really like sushi. Actually I’ve never had it, but now that I have, it just confirms that I don’t like sushi.”
“Morgan, why didn’t you say something? I feel bad for taking you here. Everyone I know likes sushi. I just assumed you did, too. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I needed to try it. And maybe I’d like it some other time. I’m just really tired from the trip, so I’m not up to trying new things right now.”
“We didn’t have to go out tonight. I just wanted to see you again. And I read about this place and thought you’d like it. But I should’ve asked if you like sushi.” He sets his napkin on the table. “Let’s get out of here.”
He reacted much better than I expected. I knew I liked this guy. When we get in the parking lot where we can hear again, he says, “It’s still early. You want to go hang out at my place?” He smiles. “You can critique my interior design skills.”
“Sure. I’ll follow you there.”
His apartment is just as I thought; neat and clean and looks like it could be featured in a magazine. It’s one of those modern lofts with concrete walls and exposed ceilings. The kitchen is open to the main living area and has stainless steel appliances, dark cabinets, and granite countertops.
We go over to his dark leather couch. It looks really expensive. I’m almost afraid to sit on it. When I do, I find that it’s cold and the cushions are hard. My couch is soft and squishy and has that lived-in look that invites you to sit down.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” he asks.
“What do you have?”
He goes over to the entertainment unit that surrounds the flat-screen TV. He pulls out a drawer and starts reading off titles of movies. I consider myself a movie buff, but I’ve never heard of any of these movies. Not a single one.
“I haven’t seen any of those so I guess I can’t pick one.”
“They’re not big blockbuster movies. I don’t like those. They’re so predictable. These are art house films, limited release. Some are foreign with subtitles.” He holds up a DVD. “This one is about a physician who volunteers to treat farm workers during the depression. It’s really an excellent film.”
I don’t tell him this, but that movie sounds so boring. It sounds like something you’d be forced to watch in school. But he likes it enough to own it, so I smile and say, “Maybe we’ll watch it some other time. Why don’t we just try to find something on TV?”
“The remote’s right there next to you. Whatever you want to watch.”
His remote control is linked to both his TV and his surround sound system and I can’t figure out how to turn the channels. He shows me and I find a movie to watch. It’s a comedy that came out a few years ago.
“Have you seen this one?” Grant asks.
“Yeah. Haven’t you? They play it all the time.”
“I don’t watch a lot of comedies, except for British ones on PBS. But this is fine. I’m sure it’s funny.”
I feel like I’ve entered an alternate universe. When I first met Grant, he was the perfect man for me. Then I come back from Boston and find out he’s some sushi-loving, foreign film fanatic who doesn’t like comedies. What the hell? Did he change while I was gone? Or did I just assume he was someone else?
I remind myself to keep an open mind. To be adventurous. Try new things.
We watch the movie, but he doesn’t laugh at any of the funny parts. Instead he just smiles at me whenever I laugh.
An hour into the movie, he puts his arm around me and leans over to kiss me. And just as he’s about to, I turn my head.
He backs away. “Is something wrong?”
“My throat is kind of scratchy. I felt like I was going to cough.”
“Are you getting sick?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I always seem to get sick after being on planes. I probably shouldn’t kiss you until I know for sure.”
“Can I get you something? Some water or tea?”
“Tea would be great. Thanks.”
He goes to the kitchen to make the tea.
What is wrong with me? Making up stories about being sick just so I don’t have to kiss him? Why wouldn’t I want to kiss him? He’s super hot. And it’s not like his kisses were bad. They just weren’t anywhere near the same level as Brad’s.
Grant and I watch the rest of the movie. He keeps his arm around me but doesn’t attempt to kiss me again. By 11, my lack of sleep is catching up to me and I feel my eyes getting heavy.
“I’m really tired, Grant. I need to go.” I get up and head to the door.
“If you’re feeling better tomorrow, I’d like to take you to the art museum,” he says as I’m getting my coat on. “They’re having a wine tasting event at 7. I guess you already know that since you volunteer there.”
“Yeah, about that. I don’t really volunteer there. I was just trying to share an interest with you so I made that up. S
orry.” I don’t know why I’m suddenly being so honest with him.
He seems surprised. “Oh. Okay. So you don’t like art. And you don’t like sushi.”
“I like art. I just don’t go to the art museum very often. And I don’t volunteer there. I never have.”
“Is there anything else I should know about you?” He smiles. “Do you hate lawyers?”
I laugh. “No. But I don’t like to run. I kind of made that up, too. I can’t even run a mile.”
“That’s fine. Running is a solo sport anyway. How about walking?”
“Walking’s fine.”
He’s being very nice about all the lies I told him. He doesn’t seem at all mad about it. It makes me like him again. Not that I didn’t like him earlier. I did. I’m just tired, and that, combined with the loud sushi place, put me in a weird mood. I feel like something’s off. It’s not Grant’s fault. He tried to make this a fun night. It just didn’t work this time. Our next date will be better.
“So do you like wine?” He walks me out to my car. “Because this event tomorrow is more about the wine than the art. We don’t even have to look at the art.” He smiles.
“I do like wine. It sounds great. I’d love to go. And how about this time, you pick me up?”
“I’d be happy to.” He kisses my cheek. “Get some sleep. I hope you feel better.”
After tonight, I’m surprised he wants to go on another date with me. I didn’t like his restaurant choice. I fessed up to my lies. I wouldn’t kiss him. And he still wants to go out with me. He must really like me.
Then I realize why he’s so anxious to go out again. Tomorrow is our third date. Meeting him at the bar last Friday was our first date. Tonight was our second. And tomorrow will be our third. The infamous third date.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
15
I leave Grant’s apartment with plans for a third date at the art museum. I can’t imagine he’d be expecting anything on that third date. We’ve only kissed and held hands. Besides, Grant doesn’t seem like someone who follows the third-date rule. Maybe it’s just for the guys Kayla dates. And if he does expect it, and tries something, I’ll turn him down. I’m not ready for that yet.
On Saturday I plan to spend the day cleaning my apartment, but then my dad calls at 9 in the morning and asks me to pick up more of my stuff from the house. I have no room for it in my apartment, but I go over there anyway and agree to take a few boxes back.
When I get to the house, I find him packing up the kitchen. “Morgan.” He gives me a hug. “You know I only used this as an excuse to see you. You’ve been gone a whole week.”
“Dad, you’re moving to Texas. Pretty soon you’ll only see me a few times a year.”
He frowns. “I know. I didn’t think this place would sell so quickly. I’m gonna miss my little girl.” He hugs me again.
“I’m not a little girl, Dad.”
“I’m still going to miss you.” He lets me go. “Do you want some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”
“I could use some coffee. I’m still wiped out from that trip.”
He pours us each a cup and we sit down at the kitchen table. “So how did it go? Did you learn all about cereal, or bread, or what was it about again?”
“Whole grains. It wouldn’t interest you. And I don’t want to talk about work.”
“Did you do anything fun while you were there? Meet any new people?”
“I ran into a guy I went to school with. Brad Fletcher. He was older than me. You wouldn’t know him.”
I think of Brad’s story about when he was 14 and my dad took him into our garage and told him I was too young to date. I’m sure my dad doesn’t remember that.
“Of course I know Brad.” My dad sips his coffee. “I worked with Bruce, his father. And Brad was a real star on the football team.”
“How do you know that?”
“I followed your high school’s sports, Morgan, even if you didn’t.”
“How well did you know Brad’s dad?”
“We did some projects together at work so I got to know him pretty well over the years. He talked about Brad all the time. They were very close. It was such a shock when Bruce passed away last year. I went to his funeral. It was huge.”
“You did?” I remember my dad going to a funeral last year for a guy at work but I had no idea the funeral was for Brad’s father.
“Brad gave a very touching speech at the funeral. The whole place was in tears. What’s he up to now? Last I heard he was going to school in Chicago.”
“Yeah. He got his MBA last spring. He’s been interning for a company in Chicago but he just got a job in Portland. He got the news when he was at the conference. I had a drink with him to celebrate.”
“It was good you two got to catch up. It’s strange you end up at the same conference like that. What are the odds of that happening? Two kids from Bloomington end up at the same event in Boston?”
Paige’s fate comment sneaks in my head but I ignore it.
My dad continues. “I hope Brad’s mother is doing all right. She’s not in good health. She has bad arthritis. She’s had it for years. And with Bruce gone, it’s hard for her to keep the house up. After he died, I offered to help her out if she needed anything but she never called.”
I never knew all this was going on. My dad probably told me this before and I didn’t listen. If he’d mentioned Brad’s name to me last year, I wouldn’t have even paid attention. I haven’t thought about him in years.
“Brad said his mom brought us food after Mom died.”
“Yes, she did. She loaded up our entire freezer. I didn’t have to cook for weeks.” He gets up to refill his coffee. “Did you and Brad just have drinks that one night?”
“We had dinner together a couple nights and then drinks on the last night. And I went out with him and his co-workers.”
“Sounds like you spent a lot of time together.” Dad smiles as he sits down again. “Are you two going to stay in touch?”
“No. I barely know the guy. I never even talked to him in high school.”
My dad’s staring at me like he’s trying to figure something out. My dad has a way of seeing things in me that I can’t always see myself. Like Paige and her mystic love powers. I don’t know what he’s thinking right now, but something’s brewing in his head.
“Well, if you change your mind, I have his mother’s number.” He smiles again as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips. “She could connect you two.”
“I went out with Grant last night,” I say, changing the subject. “I’m his mentor at work. I told you about him, remember?”
“Yes. The lawyer.”
‘We went out for sushi.”
Dad makes a face. “Ugh. I hate sushi. I thought you hated it, too.”
“I’d never had it before, but now that I have, I won’t be having it again.”
“So do you like Grant?”
“Yeah, he’s nice. He likes different things than I do, so it’s good. He can teach me all about art and design and foreign films. He’s taking me to the Walker Art Center tonight.”
My dad’s giving me that look again, like he knows something I don’t. “Well, I hope you two have fun. I need to keep packing boxes. I have some empty ones in the living room if you want to pack up some of your stuff.”
“Do you think I could pack the boxes, but pick them up tomorrow? Grant is coming to my place tonight and he’s kind of a neat freak. I don’t want to turn him off with a bunch of clutter.”
My dad gets up from the table. “If he likes you, honey, he won’t care about the clutter. But yes, you can pick up the boxes tomorrow.” He kisses the top of my head and goes back to work.
Around noon I return to my apartment and start cleaning. No amount of cleaning will transform my apartment into Grant’s modern, stylish abode, but I’m not going to worry about it. If we’re dating, he has to accept me for who I am, ugly apartment and all, just like I have to accept his love of sushi and od
d taste in movies.
At 7, he arrives at my apartment wearing a suit and tie. I’m wearing a dark blue dress and black heels. I dressed up because I’m assuming this is a high-end event. I looked it up on the Internet and tickets were $100 a piece.
“You look beautiful,” Grant says when he sees me.
“Thank you.” I check him out. He looks really good in his suit but Brad looked even better in his. But that’s not what I should be thinking about.
“We’re a little early. Can I come in?”
He’s still standing in the hallway.
“Of course.” I step aside, holding the door open.
I watch his expression as he sees my place. He probably thinks I’m one of those people who likes to shop at swap meets and garage sales. I don’t. It’s just that I don’t have money for new stuff. All my furniture came from my dad’s house, most of it just stuff that was sitting in the basement. It’s not like it’s dirty or torn. It’s just that compared to Grant’s brand-new, expensive furniture, mine looks a little dated.
I feel like he’s assessing every nook and cranny of my apartment, trying to figure out how to make it more design-friendly.
“It’s not much,” I say, “but it’s all mine.”
“I like it. A person’s place says a lot about them. And your place is warm and inviting. Mine’s a little stark, which works for me, but most people wouldn’t want to live there.”
I like that he’s not judging me and that he actually complimented my apartment. It shows he’s open-minded, like I’m trying to be.
Even though we like different things, Grant and I are both open to trying something new. And that might be what makes us work. I can learn from him and he can learn from me. He made me try sushi and I made him watch a comedy that wasn’t British.
At 7:30, we leave for the art center. His Audi is immaculate, just like his house. Even the floor mats are clean. I’m not sure how that’s even possible in the middle of a Minnesota winter. My car is full of salt and sand from the sidewalks and parking lots.
When we arrive at the art center, he gives me his arm as we walk through the slippery parking lot. We go inside and present our tickets, then he takes our coats to the coat check area.
