But Hunter doesn’t seem like the judgmental type. I’m sure he’ll be understanding.
Plus, I’m not ready to say goodbye to him yet.
“Yeah, I’m always up for eating,” he says.
We head out of the theater and throw away our trash before Hunter leads us out and down to the parking level. It’s busy, with late-night holiday shoppers and people heading to the movies. I try to keep close to Hunter as we walk without clinging to him. His nearness creates a level of calm in what would otherwise be a stressful situation for me.
“Did you drive?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, I walked ’cause it was only across the bridge.”
“I can drive us. What sort of thing do you want to eat?”
Panic begins to surge inside me as choice paralysis takes over. No matter how hard I try to think of options, nothing comes to me. It’s like my mind goes blank when I’m forced to make a decision. I prefer when I’m given multiple choices, allowing me to pick from pre-chosen options. But having me think and decide? I can’t do it. What if I pick wrong? What if Hunter doesn’t like it but is too polite to say anything? Then he won’t enjoy himself, and I’ll have ruined my night with him.
I can’t cope with the level of pressure that comes with making that choice.
“I, uh… I don’t mind,” I say, praying he won’t try and push me into deciding for us.
“Do you like burgers and wings? I know a brewery that does good food, and they also have an arcade built onto the side. It’s about fifteen minutes away.”
There’s a little bounce in my step at the idea. “Yes! That sounds awesome.”
He guides me over to his truck and opens the door for me. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, doing everything I can not to show on my face how giddy this makes me. I’ve never had someone open a door for me before.
He closes it once I’m inside and rounds the front of the truck to climb in on the other side. I’m grateful it’s dark because it gives me the chance to admire how good his hands look wrapped around the steering wheel. His strong forearms are encased in leather. I can almost imagine how they would feel wrapped around me, enveloping me in the biggest hug.
I don’t think it’s normal to have these thoughts about someone you’ve only met a handful of times. I’ve had people say before that I’m delusional and live in a fairy-tale land. I can’t help it if my imagination is vivid. That I like to mentally picture things and wonder what it would be like. I do the same thing when I know I’m going to be speaking to the press. I have tomentally practice what I’m going to say or what questions they might ask.
My brain is constantly going at one hundred miles an hour, all the time. I can’t stop it.
When Hunter pulls into a parking lot in front of a brick building and kills the engine, he twists in his seat to face me.“Do you want to eat first or arcade first?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. I ate half of the popcorn during the film, so my hunger hasn’t quite kicked in yet.
“Let’s go to the arcade first, then we’ll eat.”
He flashes me a smile, and we jump out of his truck.
Once inside, he speaks with the host to book us a table for an hour’s time, and then we make our way over to the arcade side.
Excitement rushes through me at the bright neon lighting and the different games. There’s air hockey tables and basketball hoops. Grabby claw machines and virtual zombie shooting games. Various racing simulators and coin games. There’s so much choice I’m almost overwhelmed because I don’t know where I want to go first.
And like he can read my mind, Hunter steps up beside me and motions to the zombie game that’s closest to us.
“Shall we start here?” he suggests.
“Yes,” I say excitedly, and a little too loudly.
Can this man get any more perfect?
Hunter beats me at the shooting game, then again at the basketball hoops. I manage to win a stuffed prawn on the claw machines and lose about thirty dollars on the coin machines. The entire time, all the tension I usually feel when I’m around new people starts ebbing away. I’m laughing more freely, teasing him when he, too, loses money on the machines or drops the stuffed animal right near the chute. My energy is only increasing as we move around the machines, and by the time we make our way over to the air hockey tables, I’m practically vibrating.
“I’m gonna kick your ass,” I declare with a wicked grin.
He smirks, tilting his head to the side. “You bet?”
“Hey, I’m a professional hockey player. Defending the goal is what I’m paid to do.” I motion to the slot on my end of the table. “This is my domain. You better watch out, Lieutenant Bowen.”
