“Is it too soon for me to ask you on a date?”
I hesitated, really hesitated. The boys in the past that Mom had match-made me with often started like this; the charming young man whose social status wooed my parents into believing he was the one. I went on a handful of dates in the past and usually on the third date, these semi-aristocratic young men thought that was enough time to get to know someone. They would want more and I would end it. And not in an empowered, independent woman kind of way, but with sheer panic over things moving too fast.
Oliver’s smile faded slightly. “Is it too soon?”
“No, I—” I crossed my arms over my middle. “I don’t know.”
“Come on.” His face was slowly lighting up again. “It’s just one date. After that we can figure out where to go from there,” he shrugged.
That was easy for him to say. He wouldn’t have to answer to my mother. If I refused him, I would never hear the end of it from her, yet if I said yes, she would be reminding me every day to schedule another date, not to slouch around him, and make sure I at least acted interested.
On the upside, if I said yes, I had a little breathing room. Mom would stop palming me off to every suitable male within my age bracket.
“It couldn’t hurt,” Oliver said.
My stomach fluttered nervously but I smiled a little. “You’re right. One date wouldn’t hurt.”
“So, that’s a yes?”
“Yes.”
“Great,” he beamed. “Have you heard of Lana’s Cafe?”
Kira and I went to that café a lot. It was a convenient walking distance from our apartment and sold the best pastries. If Oliver knew about it, did he visit it as often too?
“No,” I lied.
“It’s the best. Their pastries are to die for,” he grinned. “I’ll text you the directions.”
“You have my number?”
He cringed. “Yeah. Your mom kind of already gave it to me.”
Of course, she did.
“That’s fine.” My cheeks were beginning to burn from the strain of faking a smile for so long.
He fished his phone out and began tapping away as he said, “We could meet there, say, one o’clock tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Is that not a good time?”
My mouth was going before my brain could catch up. “No, no. It’s fine. Tomorrow’s perfect.”
“Perfect,” he echoed tenderly, his face glowing with a warm smile of pearly white teeth. “I will see you tomorrow then.”
I hummed my agreement.
He drummed his fingers on the counter happily and backed away from the booth, winking and grinning as he turned on his heel and headed for the school gates with a bounce in his step. When I was certain he wasn’t going to turn back, I dropped down in my seat with a huff.
Let the anxious butterflies begin.
Kira dropped by when my shift in the ticket booth ended. A mother from the school took over my spot and I couldn’t steer Kira from the thing fast enough. My Saturday afternoon was officially free and all I wanted was to stretch my legs.
We bought large wads of pink and green cotton candy and wandered through the school’s large courtyard-turned-fairground. Reminiscing about our high school days and talking about nothing important but laughing until our sides hurt as we rode a sugar high, weaving our way through the crowds.
Kira got onto the subject of how the first half of her Saturday, at a car show with Aiden, went.
