Page 8 of Wasted On Us
I help her input the information into her phone, then she snaps a quick photo of me, which she sends along. I strike my best ‘not a serial killer’ pose. “Happy?”
“Satisfied,” she quips back. The air in the car is starting to feel a bit less strained.
The scent of her perfume drifts over to me, a subtle floral blend that somehow seems to match her. It’s delicate but has a presence. I pull slowly away from the curb, onto the open road.
“So, Eden,” I begin, trying to keep the atmosphere light. “Do you always meet potential dinner companions by smashing into their cars, or am I a special case?”
She laughs, the sound like a bright melody against the low hum of the car. “Only on Wednesdays. It’s my new form of speed dating. The experts always say that you have to see a man in a crisis to know if he can hold it together without losing his temper.”
Her quick-witted response makes me chuckle, too. “Well, in that case, I’m honored and temper-tantrum free. I’ve never been someone’s Hump Day Crash. It feels... special.”
“I’m glad,” she says, her lips curling into an amused smile. “Though I’ve been told I’m hard on bumpers.”
“I can imagine,” I reply, my gaze briefly meeting hers before returning to the road. “But it’s worth it if it gets you a prime rib and a loaded baked potato for your troubles.”
She snorts. “Your definition of ‘snacks’ might need a little tweaking.”
“Yeah?” I retort, grinning. “And how would you define snacks?”
“Snacks?” She purses her lips in thought. “I don’t know, something along the lines of popcorn, nachos... maybe a chocolate chip cookie? But not what you’re proposing. Definitely not full courses.”
“I see,” I say, nodding. “We’re operating on two different snack spectrums. I’ll try to recalibrate.”
“Recalibration is key,” Eden replies with a playful smirk. It’s an intoxicating sight, and the tension in the car shifts from nervous to exhilarating. I like this side of her, this openness. It’s like a switch flipped, and it’s a welcome surprise.
“Speaking of recalibration, ever had a date go sideways?” I ask, risking the delicate balance. “I mean… when you’re having snacks, that is.”
“Oh, do you mean like the date where the guy spent the whole evening talking about his ex? Or the one where he insisted we split the bill down to the last cent, including the breadsticks he didn’t share with me?” She rolls her eyes, and I can’t help but chuckle. “Or what about that time when the guy showed up in his superhero cosplay and tried to ‘save’ me from a fake robbery he’d staged? Or, wait, let’s not forget the magician who spent the entire date performing tricks, only to accidentally set the tablecloth on fire with a misaimed fireball.” Her eyebrow arches at the memory, her lips quirking with the remnants of disbelief and humor.
My lips twist. “I’ll take ‘things that never happened’ for $200 please, Alex.”
Her laughter rings out and hits me right in the solar plexus. “Okay, you got me. But the only fake scenario was the robbery. That magician thing is totally true. The whole restaurant bore witness.”
“I’m beginning to understand your aversion to dates,” I admit. It’s shocking to hear the kind of experiences she’s had. “And any man who asks to go Dutch doesn’t understand how to treat a lady.”
“I didn’t say I was averse to dates, just the… unsatisfactory ones.” She blinks at me, her cheeks flushing a delightful shade of pink.
“Unsatisfactory, huh?” I can’t help but tease. “You mean like... all of them?”
She snorts, but there’s a determination in her gaze that wasn’t there before. “Not all of them, but let’s just say none of them in a very long time have lived up to the promise of a goodnight kiss.”
“Goodnight kiss,” I murmur, my mind filling with images of Eden under a starlit sky, a kiss lingering between us. “Seems like a reasonable expectation to me. A man should be able to put his best foot forward on a first date.”
“Well, expectations and reality often don’t match, do they?” she says, her tone both light and poignant. I’m struck by her honesty. She’s been through a lot, yet here she is, making light of it, smiling. It makes me want to do things for her.
Only to see that laugh again.
“Maybe it’s time someone changed that reality for you, Eden,” I say, the words out before I can stop them. She blushes, looking out the window, but not before I catch the spark she shutters before she thinks I can see it. And in that moment, I know I want to be the one to give her the date she truly deserves. I want to be the man who breaks the string of her unsatisfactory experiences.
And if I’m really honest with myself, I want to be the man who finally gives her that goodnight kiss she’s been missing. And maybe, just maybe, so much more.
With every laugh, every shared story, I find myself drawn to her more and more. She’s unlike any woman I’ve met before. And despite my earlier vow, I can’t help but feel a surge of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, this ‘snacks’ date might be the beginning of something.
Chapter Five
Eden
When Mateo insisted on snacks and drinks, I was envisioning something else. I thought we would go to one of those cheap franchises, a chain like Applebee’s that does happy hour and some kind of two-for-twenty deal involving a skillet cookie or boneless wings. A place where I would get cheese fries and a house margarita. I definitely wasn’t picturing something upscale. But then again, judging from his shoes and his watch, he does alright for himself selling cars.