Page 71 of Revive Me

“Alright, folks, we have our winners! And it looks like it’s by alandslide. Wow. This is incredible. Congratulations to our winners…The Agony of De Feet!”

A cocky grin slowly slides across my face.

“Where are our winners sitting?” the MC calls out, looking around. “I’ve got your prizes right here!”

When I raise my hand, he makes a beeline over to us, microphone still in his grip as he drops an envelope on the table.

“Congratulations toThe Agony of De Feet!Not only have you won two tickets to the local movie theater, but you’ve also set a History Night record here at King’s Cross. Out of the thirty questions asked, you gottwenty-nineof them correct!”

There’s a smattering of applause around the restaurant, but I barely notice, because all I can think about is that I’m annoyed I got one question wrong.

When the MC finally walks away and calls an official end to Trivia Night, I wipe my hands and reach for the envelope.

“Movie Tavern. Nice.” I slide the tickets back inside, then meet Lily’s gaze with a grin. “So, what horror movie are we going to go see?”

* * *

I don’t think either of us is ready to leave when the waitress finally brings us our bill.

We’ve been here for almost two hours. After Lily finished her cheesesteak, she ordered another drink, pulled her leg up on her chair for a more comfortable position, and promptly asked me for my top three movies.

After that, we snowballed from one random question to another. We talked about our likes and dislikes, shared memories, told meaningless stories. It was comfortable and…refreshing. Because God knows our entire relationship has been centered around the most serious part of both of our lives, so being with her in this kind of setting has been a relief.

It didn’t help that my affection for Lily grew when a dessert menu was dropped at our table and her eyes grew adorably large at the idea of cheesecake. She tried to get me to eat some, but I lied and said I’m not a fan of that particular dessert. In reality, I just wanted to watch her as she ate it, dancing excitedly in her seat.

But it’s our waitress’s second pass by the table to ask if we need anything else, so it’s obvious that the night needs to end.

“We’ll take the check,” I tell her with an apologetic smile. It turns into a sigh when she has the check immediately ready to whip onto our table, but I just reach for my wallet and pull out my card.

“Here, we can split it,” Lily argues.

I quirk an eyebrow at her. “Not a chance, Liliana.”

Her lips purse. “But tonight was my idea. Honestly, I should be the one paying.”

“Not a chance,” I repeat. Then I drop my card on the tray and hold it out toward our waitress, who hurries off. It earns me a glare from Lily, but I merely wink at her in return.

The gesture is something of a mask, though. I always would have paid, but the real reason I wanted to is because it’s the only semblance of masculinity I can gather tonight. If I can’t pick her up in my car, or hold a door open for her, or even call this a true date, the least I could do is pay.

Once we’ve settled the bill, we silently gather our things and head toward the door. It isn’t until we’re outside and I pull out my phone that I realize,fuck, I should’ve called an Uber while we were still at the table.

I’m trying to figure out how to convince Lily to leave me here to wait alone when she notices the open app on my phone. And it all becomes a moot point because she doesn’t even hesitate before asking, “Do you need a ride?”

And every attempt at feeling like a normal guy on a normal date with a normal girl goes right out the window.

I wave her off, trying to hide my discomfort. “Nah, don’t worry about it, I’m just going to call an Uber. You don’t need to wait for me.”

With the way she’s gesturing for me to follow her before I’m even done talking, I don’t think she was really asking. “That’s silly. I have my car here and nothing else to do tonight. I’ll drive you home.”

I suck in a breath, still undecided, and watch her walk toward her car. It’s only twenty feet from the restaurant entrance, so when she reaches it and turns back to lift her eyebrows at me in question, I let out a shaky exhale and direct my wheelchair her way.

She drives an SUV, so finding space for my chair isn’t a problem. It’s the awkward process of getting in and out that makes me nervous.

I eye the passenger door, mentally calculating if I can get in without needing her help. But I realize quickly that I would need to take the wheels off if I wanted to do that, and this chair is a bitch for that kind of thing.

Lily must notice—and translate—the muttered curse under my breath, because she looks at her car, then back at me. “If you get into the passenger seat, I’ll just put your chair in the trunk. Easy.”

A huff of frustration escapes me. “We’re not at the clinic, Liliana. You don’t need to be my PT.”

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