We sped off and I was wondering where we were going when he said, “Do you eat meat? Wait, that came out wrong… Do you eat steak?”
“I do.” I spoke through a laugh, and silently loved how easy communicating with Daniel was. Chatting had not come easy for me when it came to guys. I was often “too much” for them, and I wasn’t changing for anyone. My mom had sacrificed her feminism and done enough changing for my dad, giving up her Jewish roots, staying in a career she didn’t enjoy, and playing the dutiful wife. It wasn’t for me.
“Good. I made a reservation at Mastro’s.”
“Great,” was my response, like I went there all the time. I’d never been. It was a white-tablecloth, fancy steak joint for adults. And Daniel Campbell, golf player. “Did you win your tournament? I’m not sure what to say—is that what it’s called?”
“Our team, our school, I mean, did win. It’s a complicated setup. We play as a team of five and individually. But we won as a team, and I won too, so yeah…”
“That’s great. Must be so cool.”
“It’s better when my dad isn’t there. I played tense.” He ran a hand through his hair as we drove along, the night sky darkening.
I watched his profile as the lights whizzed by. “I’m sorry to hear that. I get it though. My dad will not settle for anything short of medical school. It’s like his ego is tied to my success.”
“Sure sounds like my dad. Maybe that’s why this feels so amazing. We get one another on a cerebral level.”
“Maybe?”
“Doesn’t it feel right? Good, meant to be?”
Daniel rattled on, and while I agreed, it was scary to think it felt this perfect with someone.
Luck was on my side because we turned into the restaurant and we could dodge any more intimate kind of talk. Daniel parked next to the valet stand and jumped out, grabbing my door before the ogling attendant could.
“Come on,” he said, hand lightly on my elbow, guiding me inside, making sure the other guy knew I was with him. If I wasn’t so inexperienced, I would think he was pissing on his territory.
“Campbell, table for two,” Daniel told the host, and we were whisked off to a semicircle-shaped booth in the bar.
I slid in and he slid in next to me as a server appeared to pour sparkling water.
“Good to see you, Danny-boy,” the server said.
“Hey, Jon. This is Wren.”
“Nice to meet you, Wren.” Jon winked and was off.
Of course I couldn’t help myself. “Come here with all the ladies?” I’d used the quip before when Daniel told me about Brutus; I couldn’t seem to avoid my jealous side showing itself when it came to the golfer.
“Never. Usually with my teammates or my parents when they visit.”
I admitted my earlier thoughts. “I’ve never been.”
“Glad to be your first.”
He winked, making sure I noted the double entendre. Although he wouldn’t be my first, but that wasn’t a discussion for now.
He changed gears. “Wine? Cocktail? I know you have a lot to do, so no pressure.”
As seniors, we were both twenty-one, and the gimmick of drinking had worn off, at least for me. “A glass of red. Cabernet. You know it’s good for the heart. At least, someone said it once,” I said.
“I hear you, Doc.” He motioned for Jon. “We’ll have a bottle of Cabernet, whatever you recommend.”
I smiled to no one, hearing a tiny wisp of Daniel’s Scottish accent coming out.
Jon was gone in a hot second, and we were left alone again.
“What was the biggest difference when you moved here?” I figured I’d head into first-date territory even though the electric fuse between us was way past that zip code.
