As we walk side by side, my nerves are on high alert. He is almost too perfect. Nights like tonight don’t happen in real life. “This is it right here,” I tellhim.
I unlock my Jeep with the key fob, and the headlights flash twice. “So, I guess I’ll see youtomorrow?”
“I'll be here all day,” he says. This is so incredibly awkward. I just had a first date with the doctor who is taking care of Grams. It’s not like he can easily avoid me right now, even if he’s not interested in me. How did I think this was a good idea? I forgot about all the dynamics of dating someonenew.
Jackson is scratching at the back of his neck, looking up at the sky, and I wish I could figure out what’s going through his head. I reach for my door and open it, taking a step toward my seat so I can toss my bag inside. If anyone was watching this right now, they could grab a bowl of popcorn and have a good laugh at this scene right out of a high school dramamovie.
“Okay, I have restraint. Sorry. I just had to refocus my energy for a second. I don’t want to do the wrong thing, especially since I know you’ve had a bad day.” Confused by what he’s trying to say, I stop trying to figure it out when he steps forward and wraps his arms around my back. “A hug is okay though,right?”
“A hug is more than okay.” I’ve needed a hug all day. It's the only thing I’ve needed today…well, besides a date with a gorgeous doctor. I press up on my toes to reach my arms around his neck. “Thank you again, for everything,” I tellhim.
“Emma, you smell so good that if I don’t let go right now, I may not be able to stop at just a hug,” Jackson whispers into myear.
I don’t want to let go, either. It feels good to be in his arms. I didn’t know it could feel likethis.
“It’s not a rebound if my past never felt right in the first place, don’t you agree?” I can’t believe I just said that—the words are obviously flowing on their own accord. I’m not typically so forward with men, but Jackson has a charm about him that I can’t seem toresist.
“Since thisisthe first date,” he says, “I think it's bad luck to break the rules sosoon.”
“Rules?” Ilaugh.
“Dating rules—you know, no kissing on the first date, no talking about marriage, kids, or exes, etcetera.” He explains his statement as if there’s some well-known book on the stages of dating. Maybe there is, and I haven’t read it. It would explain a lot in mylife.
“I wasn't aware there were dating rules,” I tell him, still holding on to his neck. “We’ve already broken a couple of them.” Exes—the bane of our existence, Isuppose.
“Oh yeah, there are a lot of them, but only if you're looking for something more than just a date, youknow?”
“So, should I be offended or flattered that I'm not the one-night-stand kind of girl?” I’m pretty sure I just made it sound like I’m easy, and that wasn’t myintention.
“I’m not a one-night-stand kind of guy either, so—definitely flattered.” He pulls away from our hug, just enough to gaze down at me. His hand releases from my back and rests softly on my cheek. “I really had fun tonight. I need to see you again…and not just in thehospital.”
“I would like that,” I tell him, trying not to sound overly eager since I know men like the thrill of a chase. At least, that’s what Grams has told me countless times; I should never make it too easy for aman.
“How about Friday? Dinner and a boring movie,maybe?”
“A boring movie?” Iquestion.
“Yeah, a boring movie,” he repeats. He moves away, takes my door, and opens it a little wider. “Drive safe and apologize to your mother for me. I know she didn't want you home too late.” A quick wink flutters through his lashes as I slide into myseat.
“My mom’s house,” I mutter under mybreath.
“She loves you. There's nothing wrong with that. I'd be worried about you too if you belonged tome.”
I'm notsure I was able to sneak in unnoticed at three-thirty in the morning, but I'm going to play it casually with hope of avoiding the unwanted “date” interrogation. I tiptoe my sock-covered feet down the carpeted hall and into the kitchen, trying to not wake Mom up if she’s still sleeping. Except, she’s standing at the stove in her robe cooking something up. “What are you doing?” I chuckle through my morninghoarseness.
“I don't usually have anyone to make breakfast for anymore, so when inRome—”
“Makepancakes?”
“Oh, be quiet,” she shoos me off. “Soooooo? What do you have to tellme?”
“Oh, Mom,” I whine. “I really don't want to talk about it. I want to keep it to myself and daydream about italone.”
The spatula drops against the counter, and she spins around to face me while gripping the sink behind her. “It went well, didn’t it?” she asks,excitedly.
“Yes, now stop.” I can’t help thinking that at least this is giving Mom something else to focus on besides Grams’shealth.
“No, no, no, no, I need more. I need something, please!” she pleads. “Is he looking to settle down and havekids?”
