He shakes his head in approval and takes a step inside the house. “Of course. There should be a packet of flower food wrapped in the plastic that you can pour into the water.” He glides to my side, helping me find the packet and pouring it into the vase I just filled.
“I love how the bold color contrasts with the delicate baby’s breath. What kind of flowers are these?” I ask, gently lifting one of the indigo flowers.
“The woman at the store said they’re Bachelor Button flowers,” he chuckles a little. “Quite the name. She said men used to wear them to indicate their love for their beloved.”
I turn my head as I look at the flowers more. “That’s sweet. Where’s your flower?” I tease.
He quickly glances down at his bare wrist. “Will you look at the time! We are going to be late for our reservation. We better get going.” The mischievous smile spreading on his face is hard to resist.
I return his smile and nudge his shoulder with mine. “It sounds like we are going to dinner! Do I get to know where we are going now that we are together?”
He moves his head back and forth. “Absolutely not! You’ll see when we get there.”
As we walk out the front door, he leads me straight to his truck. “Ha! I know we are driving somewhere now!”
He rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t give anything away. I already told you I’d be picking you up today.”
I shrug. “You could’ve pickedme up on foot.”
He opens the passenger side door for me, and I hop in. When he slides into the driver’s side, he presses a few buttons on the screen on his dash. “Do you want to play some music?”
I smile. “Definitely. You have so much to learn about music.”
“Hey, now! I may not be Rebecca, but I still listen to music. I think you’d even like my taste.”
I press my lips together, unimpressed. “All right, tell me a song to play, and we will put you to the test.”
“Look up ‘Girl on Fire’ by Kameron Marlowe. He’s a smaller artist with a lot of great songs, but this one reminds me a bit of you.”
I type the song title into my phone and queue it up. The first line alone sells me.His voice is smooth, and the lyrics are poetry. Chills grow on my arms. I continue listening as he tells the story of a young summer love between himself and a girl that he knew was going to do great things. He talks about trying to play it cool even though he doesn’t know what he’s doing and how his love for her never really faded.
“Which part reminded you of me?” I probe.
He turns right to exit the loop around the lake and head toward town. “It’s a combination of little pieces,” he explains. “The summer love, the girl on fire, who is you of course, and moonlight kisses in a Chevrolet bed, which I know I haven’t gotten yet, but I hope I do soon.” His dimple protrudes with his blushing smile.
I don’t know how to respond to that. I’m not smooth like Andrew. He has such a way with words. I like to read words. I even like to write words from time to time, but actually speaking them is a whole other issue. I open my mouth.Come on words.“I…I hope so too.”
I want to bury my head in my hands from my slow reaction time and awkward response, but a grin spreads on his face, and he reaches out to grab my hand on the center console, assuring me I said the right thing this time. It feels good.
“I have a song for you now, another song that reminds me of you,” I share, giddy with excitement. At least a song can show him how I feel in a much better way than I clearly can. “Can I queue it up?”
He nods. “Tonight is all about you. Go for it.”
“No,” I interject. “Tonight is aboutus.”
He squeezes my hand. “Us. I like the sound of that.”
The song begins, and I find myself growing nervous. I’m practically pouring my heart out to Andrew through this song, and I hope he likes it.
I glance over at him and catch him tapping his free hand on the steering wheel as Abby Anderson sings about how this boy makes her lose sleep and how terrifying her feelings are, but she doesn’t want to push him away because she wants to be with him. He’s smiling. Thank God!
The song ends, and I’m still watching Andrew intently. I wait for him to speak. He turns to me, and I’m instantly enraptured by those gorgeous blue eyes of his. “I like it. I could get used to this feeling too,” he gives me a cheesy grin, and I laugh.
“How much longer?” I pester him.
He tilts his head back and forth while he considers the question. “Pick four more songs, and we will be there.”
“You pick two, and I’ll pick two. That’s only fair.”
