“You don’t strike me as a save the planet type of guy,” she says when I get behind the wheel and press the brake pedal to start my car.
“I’m not,” I say before I realize how my answer could be taken out of context. “What I mean to say is, I do my part by recycling, ensuring my home is energy efficient, and all that. I bought this car for my parents, but my dad didn’t like all the techy stuff. Said it freaked him out and he didn’t like my mom watching movies while he drove.”
Kelsey laughs and covers her mouth. “If it were me, I’d end up reading.”
“Believe me, as much as I don’t like to do it, I let Rizzo drive for me because I’ll watch highlights from a game or do a live session on Instagram or TikTok.”
“Rizzo?”
I shrug and signal to turn. “My mom named her, and I didn’t have the heart to change her name. Mom’s a huge fan of Grease. Have you seen the movie?”
“I have, although it took me this year to realize what they’re singing about. I guess, when I was younger, I was enamored with the characters and the movie, but I never paid attention to the lyrics of the songs. Now, when I hear them I blush, and wonder what in the hell my parents were thinking when they let me watch this movie for hours on end.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I heard this is a realization for fans later in life. I guess we’ll have to watch it so you can make sure I fully grasp what I’m hearing.”
“I can do that,” Kelsey says shyly. I’ll be honest, I like that she’s already agreed to another date.
Rizzo turns onto another street and begins the uphill climb to my neighborhood. “Look behind you.”
Kelsey turns in her seat and then lets out a whispering, “Wow.”
“If you’re up for it after dinner I’d love to show you the view from my house.”
“Of course, unless it’s late. I don’t want to keep you from—”
“I’m all yours, all night,” I interrupt her and hope she doesn’t read too much into what I said. I’m not trying to get her to spend the night, but I also don’t have a curfew and it’s not like our night needs to end at nine or ten.
I pull into the parking lot and find the first available spot. After parking, I help Kelsey out of the car and keep my hand on the small of her back as we make our way into the restaurant. “Hi, I have a reservation for Alex Moore,” I tell the host when it’s our turn.
“This place is quaint,” Kelsey leans into me and speaks.
“It’s an old Victorian converted into a restaurant. If our table is upstairs, you’ll see a dumbwaiter in action. It’s pretty neat.”
“How did you know I’ve never seen one before?”
“Wild guess,” I tell her. The host tells us to follow him, and I rejoice a bit when he takes us to the staircase. I motion for Kelsey to follow behind him which is a major mistake because I’m two steps behind her and my eyes don’t leave her backside and every swing of her hips gives me a little more to fantasize about.
When she reaches the top of the stairs, she looks over her shoulder at me. She smiles and extends her hand for me to take. I do so, without hesitation and link our fingers together. No more of my hand on her lower back, although I do like the feel of having it there.
The host holds Kelsey’s seat for her, and I feel unnecessarily angry. It’s an unfamiliar feeling because the times I’ve been here with Maggie, I never seemed to care. But with Kelsey—holding the chair out for her is something I want to do. I don’t want to share her with anyone or have someone else on the receiving end of the look of gratitude she’s currently giving the host.
I sit down with a huff and Kelsey glances my way, none the wiser of my internal battle. She opens her menu and as the waiter approaches, I tell him what wine we’d like, hoping I’m not being a total dick by ordering for her. As soon as he’s gone, I set my menu down and clear my throat.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked if you even like wine. I apologize for assuming.”
“You’re fine, Alex. If I wanted something differently, I would’ve spoken up.”
“Okay, good. That’s good. I want you to always speak your mind when you’re with me.”
Kelsey smiles. “What’s good here.”
I spend the next five minutes or more, listing off my favorite dishes, which is really anything from the menu. When the waiter returns with our wine, we place our order. Kelsey picks up her glass and I do the same.
“I propose a toast,” I say and then lose my train of thought because of the way she’s looking at me, or maybe it’s the way the small lights around us make her eyes look like they’re sparkling. “To new friends and new adventures.”
“I like new friends and new adventures,” she says as she touches her glass to mine. When she takes a sip, her eyes never leave mine.
FIVE
KELSEY
Why does this man affect me so?
This is easily the best Italian dinner I’ve ever had and that’s saying something considering I moved here from New York City. Except, it’s not the food. It’s the company. It’s Alex who makes the meal stand out over every other dinner I’ve had. He’s funny, sweet, and caring. When he ordered wine for us, the thought never crossed my mind that I would want something else. It’s odd to trust someone so fully, right after meeting them, but I do with him. Alex has an air about him. He’s this big, burly type of man, who could crush me like a grape, but his demeanor screams gentle giant.
Toward the end of dinner, he reaches across the table and touches my cheek. His caress is soft, thoughtful. Gazing into his brown eyes, I see kindness and longing. On the tip of my tongue, sits the questions plaguing my mind from earlier—Maggie. Why did they break up? Is he over her? By all accounts, he was in love. Is he still? I know I’m getting way ahead of myself in thinking there might be something between us, but I feel it. Deep in my bones, I feel a connection. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
When the check comes, Alex insists on paying, even though I offered to pay for half. He’s by my side, guiding me down the stairs. They’re carpeted and not great for heels. Yet, I’d feel like a shrimp standing next to him if I didn’t give myself a little bit of height. Even now, he towers over me. The difference between us, which is well over a foot, should scare me, but I feel safe when he’s around. No one is going to mess with him, or me for that matter.
He holds my hand as we walk through the parking lot and opens the car door for me. He’s a gentleman, through and through. Polite, courteous, and sweet. When he slides behind the steering wheel, his artificially intelligent car adjusts to him, and the computer greets him. I catch him smiling. This guy is a softy.
“I’m going to let Rizzo drive us to the nearest coffee shop.”
“Okay?” I look at him questioningly. He tells Rizzo where he wants to go and then puts his car in drive. I should probably panic at the sight of seeing the steering wheel turn without his guidance, but I don’t. He’s still behind the wheel and I suppose somewhat in control. Yet, he’s looking at me.