Page 17 of Signed With Love

He grabs his phone from his pocket and begins typing. It’s a long message, so I wait, watching his fingers glide across the keyboard. He hands it over.

I promise tonight we won’t do anything you don’t want to do. If you get uncomfortable at all, I’ll bring you home. But we had fun last night. And I want to spend some time with you tonight. Please. I don’t even care if you get sick on me. But if you don’t feel good enough, I’ll leave too.

I worry my lip and glance down at the t-shirt I’ve switched into. I’ve angrily wiped some of my makeup away.

I’m not ready anymore, I type back.

He reads my words and shakes his head with a smile.

When he hands the phone back, there’s a brief hesitation. I grab the phone and read the message.

You look perfect. Why don’t you change into more comfy pants like you did with the shirt? And don’t worry about your hair or makeup. Seriously, you look perfect.

I glance up. He’s persistent. And sweet. I’m close to caving in.

Fine. I hand the phone back, and he slips it into his back pocket. He looks quite pleased with himself.

I reach for the button on my jeans. They’re driving me crazy. I raise a brow when Jamison remains looking in my direction, a hazy look in his eyes. What I wouldn’t give to read his mind right now. Without thought, I lick my lips and wait.

He shakes it off and points over his shoulder, then turns and walks from my bedroom, shutting the door behind him. I can’t help but chuckle. I strip my pants off and change into a comfier pair, then tie my hair back. My stomach is easing some now that I’ve seen Jamison. And seen his promises.

I find Jamison at the kitchen table with Dad and Mom when I step from the bedroom. Jamison turns over his shoulder when Mom glances my way.

Ready? I ask.

Jamison nods and rises from the table. He says goodbye to my parents and follows me outside. The evening air helps a bit to calm me, but it’s not enough to fully loosen the knot forming in my throat.

Last night was spontaneous. And he’s right, I had so much fun meeting his friends. They’re sweet and a little ornery, sure, but so nice to me. I was working on pure adrenaline and impulsiveness, but this evening is different. I’ve spent too long going over scenarios and mishaps that could happen when we’re together.

Jamison walks to the passenger door and opens it for me. This time, I’m less playful and climb inside instead. That gets me a sadder, more drawn look from him. He likes when I give him a bit more trouble, I suppose.

He starts the Jeep and drives into town. Not that the town of Casper has much to offer for date-night festivities, but he said I didn’t have to do anything I wasn’t comfortable with. My stomach rolls as he parks. He reaches for the handle but holds up his finger for me to wait.

I’ll be a moment. You wait.

He jumps out, and I frown. Shouldn’t I be following him inside? I place my hand on the handle and pause. His words seem sure, so I remove my hand and wait. Jamison returns a few minutes later with a pizza box in his hand.

He climbs in and offers me the box with a reassuring grin. I nod and take the box to hold while giving him a smile in return.

The pizza smell infuses into his Jeep. I take a breath and lift the box to sneak a peek at the kind he ordered. I’m certain he’s gotten my favorite. A playful smack hits the back of my hand, and I gasp. Did he seriously just smack me? My mouth is hanging open.

No eating without me. He winks.

I wasn’t, I sign back with narrowed eyes, but the way the humor dances in his, I can’t keep the smile contained or pretend.

Okay. He shoots me a playful look and tucks the box closed. I’m sure there’s pineapple on the pizza, and I can’t believe it because I swear everyone else in the world hates pineapple on their pizzas. But I love it.

Jamison heads toward his house, and my brows lower when he pulls into the driveway.

He grabs the pizza and jumps down, then comes to my side.

I thought we were going on a date?

He smiles and has me follow him inside. Once we reach the kitchen and the box lands on the table, he pulls his phone out. After typing, he passes it over, then steps away to grab drinks.

I thought you’d like this better. I’m kind of a homebody myself, and you said you didn’t feel well, so I thought we could do pizza and watch a movie here.

The refrigerator door opens and closes as his heavy boots cross back to me. The very last of the tension leaves my body. I don’t have to worry about food because he got my favorite. I don’t have to worry about ordering. I don’t have to worry about our date because Jamison is having us stay in and relax. He’s taken all the concerns I had about a first date and solved them.

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