Page 43 of The Curveball
My jaw drops. Strawberry, cherry, and chocolate flavored. He’s right. I have an unhealthy addiction to the candy, but it helps me think when I write.
He noticed?
“Color me impressed, Marks.” Who knew licorice could be the string that pulls me off the ledge to falling for the guy I should not fall for? Funny the things that clamp onto our hearts and don’t let go. “I’ve never had a date bring me licorice.”
“You’ve been dating the guys who don’t notice you then.”
Warm emotion blooms in my chest. I don’t understand this man. I don’t understand why he cares so much, but . . . for the first time in years, I want to open a few doors and invite someone else into my quiet, introverted life.
Griffin holds out his hand, stepping back. “Ready for this date? I promise I won’t keep you out all night.”
I scoff. “I’m not sure how you’re still standing. I hear someone kicks like a kangaroo and kept you up all night.”
“It’s true. But turns out this sounds more fun than sleep. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
I shake my head and take his hand as he walks us the twenty feet to his front door. Inside his side of the house, there is a distinct hint of garlic in the air, and my stomach crackles.
Griffin laughs. “Hungry? I hope so, I bought half the menu because I didn’t know what kind of pasta you liked and was an idiot not to ask. Then, I figured it might be fun to try it all. Who knows, we might find out we like something new.”
His zest for life is addicting. Inspiring, even. Thoughts drift to the few words I’ve written in my work in progress, and make a mental note to add a bit of sunshine to my main character. It’ll be like writing Griffin into the pages.
Griffin wasn’t lying when he said he bought half the menu. His table is cloaked in plates of pasta, appetizers, salads, and sparkling cider.
“I figured wine with a woozy head probably wouldn’t be a good idea,” he says, popping the top.
“Good thinking, Marks.”
He pours my glass with a seductive half-smile. “I’ve got to say, Birdie, all these compliments are messing with my head. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thoroughly enjoying the newI love Griffinphase.”
“Ah, keep flattering yourself. I’ve merely upgraded from disklike to tolerate.”
“Ouch.” He grins and hands me a glass. “Well, take your pick.”
Griffin pulls out my chair, and once I sit, my eyes home in on the mountains of oozing, saucy noodles. Truth be told, I can’t remember a time when someone spent so much time and thought on a date for me. Even when there were days to plan it. Griffin had hours, and he’s created a bubble of romance.
Shame we aren’t really together. I could get used to being spoiled a little.
With a plastic spoon, I load my plate with tortellini. I’m nervous, and calm, and jittery, and relaxed. I can’t pin down the stirring in my veins, the pull to find a bit of comfort with Griffin. The chaos he brings is exactly why I’ve kept him at a distance. Forced proximity, thanks to him, has spun me around like a whirlwind.
The thing is, I’m not sure I want it to stop.
Conversation is easy. Griffin wastes no time, and pulls out his phone, insisting he Googled the best first date questions.
“We’ve got to get to know each other more than we already do,” he says. “I mean how long have we been dating?”
I grimace. “I still can’t believe I did this.”
“Believe it. Own it. Embrace it, Birdie.” Griffin tears a piece of garlic bread in half and takes a big bite.
“I told my dad we’ve been dating for a couple months.”
He nods, sort of shimmies, and swallows his bread. “Okay, then we’re going to definitely need to know a few things about each other. Now, be honest. Question one . . .”
He spits out dozens of questions. Simple. Fun. Lighthearted. Questions like favorite food. We laugh when we look at the mounds of pasta and sayItalianat the same time.
Career goals. I surprise myself when I admit I’d love to see my book on the big screen. It seems so outlandish I never tell anyone. Not even my mom.
“Wouldn’t that be amazing,” Griffin says. Not a hint of irony in his tone. “We’ll put it out there. Skye is always talking about meditating and manifesting. Consider it manifested, Birdie.”