I step away from the mirror because I can’t keep doing this. I look fine.
In the bathroom, three bottles of cologne sit lined up on the counter. She liked all of them. One was her favorite.
I stare at them too long.
How do I not remember which one?
My phone lights up with the time, and that settles it. No more standing here acting like the right bottle will fix anything. I grab the one in the middle, spray it on, and head for the door.
I’m doing this.
She insisted on driving herself again. I don’t want to take offense to it, but why can’t I pick my girl up?
Because she’s not my girl yet, I remind myself as I drive to the smoothie place.
She pulls up a second after I do, and I hurry up and get out of the car so I can greet her, touch her, put my arm around her.
She steps out of the car in an all-blue romper that makes me forget how to stand like a normal man. It’s classy and sexy, fitted enough to ruin my focus without looking like she tried too hard.
Damn.
“Hey,” I call out, lifting my hand in a wave.
The second I do it, I want to take my arm off and throw it in the bushes.
She laughs as she walks up to me. “Hey. Did you want to shake hands too?”
“Wow. You got jokes?”
“You’re awkward.”
“I know.” I drop my hand and try to recover. “I don’t know why.”
“You’re always nervous when you’re excited about something.”
That’s a little too close to the truth.
She always notices.
We step inside, and the place is quiet enough that I don’t have to compete with too many people, too much noise, or my own nerves. Good. I need fewer things between me and Lily.
She walks straight to the counter and orders a strawberry hibiscus smoothie.
I find it on the menu, and before I can pretend to have my own personality, I order one too.
She looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
“It looks good, okay? I’ve never been here, and I trust your judgment.”
“You’re a copycat,” she says, and we both laugh.
We sit and wait for our smoothies, the sound of the blenders fill the air. I could sit and stare at Lily all day, just laying in my bed, kicking my feet around and watching her.
I laugh out loud imagining that.
“What?” she asks, the corners of her mouth curving into a smile.
“I really don’t want to say.”
