“Same to you,” he responds, not making any movement to get closer.
No hug, no kiss on the cheek, nothing. He just stands there, holding his keys in one hand and his other hand tucked in his pocket.
“You ready?” He motions to his black Toyota truck.
“We aren’t getting coffee first?” I ask, pointing to the front door.
“Nope. No coffee for me, we have to get on the road.”
“Okay, where are you taking me?”
“San Francisco.”
“Wow, kind of far for a first date, don’t you think?” I regret the words as soon as they come out of my mouth.
“It’s not a date, so I don't have to worry about being a first anything. There’s somewhere I want to take you that I know you’ll love. Let’s go.”
He nods his head toward his truck before walking to the driver’s door without looking back to see if I’m following or offering to help me in the passenger side.
It’s odd to be hanging out with a guy who’s not trying to hit on me, or even acting like he’s trying to get in my pants. I kind of like it. For a first non-date, this might be just what I’m looking for.
After I hop in the truck—that Alex already had running before I could even open the door—he grabs his phone, hitting the Pandora icon stating, “Rock okay with you?” then he puts down the phone, not really caring what my answer is.
I think I surprise him when I say, “That’s actually perfect, the harder the better,” while I reach behind me for my seatbelt.
When I turn to buckle the seatbelt, we lock eyes, and he smiles, saying, “Good to know,” as he backs out of the parking space.
The hour ride is mostly quiet, yet nowhere near an awkward silence. The songs he plays are right up my alley. A refreshing change since Travis and I never agreed to the same music and any long car rides were a struggle on who got to listen to their musical preference.
It’s nice not feeling like I have to say anything to fill any empty silence floating around. Really, I don’t care what he has to say. I don’t want to get to know him personally, and it’s nice knowing he thinks the same way.
We pull into the City, and he stops the car in front of a discrete-looking building, turning it off and opening his door saying nothing.
“Um. Are you going to tell me where we are?” I ask, exiting the car but standing behind it as a barrier from anything that might happen.
“Nope,” he states as he walks away.
“Nope? Did you really just say that? Where are we?”
“Just trust me.”
“Sorry, man, but, I don’t know you well enough to trust you yet.”
He turns around, squaring his shoulders, saying with no emotion, “Yes you do or you wouldn’t have gotten in the truck with me.”
No movement is made on his part as we stare in a stand off of wills, neither of us wanting to break first. Instead of backing down, I stand up straighter, tilting my head up slightly, trying to show him who’s boss.
His lips tilt up as he tries to hide his smile before he turns around, walking into the empty looking building without knocking or unlocking the door.
I look around, realizing I’m alone on a side street in San Francisco. Weighing my options, I laugh at how I got myself into this predicament in the first place and close his truck door. Walking up, I slowly open the door, peeking inside before I make my way through.
The room is dark, and an arm reaches out, grabbing me by my waist and pulling me closer. Fear is the last thing I feel when warm air brushes across my neck and I hear, “Glad to see we’re on the same page. Come on.”
His hand reaches down, entangling with my fingers and pulling me through a long hall with small lights barely illuminating the ground as a guiding path through the darkness.
The farther down the hall we get, the sound of bass hits hard around me, thumping through my veins.
When he opens the door, laser lights of red, blue, and green dance around the warehouse walls. Bouncing bodies fill the room with their arms in the air. The music beat drops and screams of excitement overcome all of my senses.
