Page 16 of Pretend to be Mine
Ben
The sun is already beginning to set as I walk over to Savannah’s for our dinner date. I knock on the door and hear her shout, “It’s open!”
I open the door and walk in to find the living room empty. But at least there’s a game on the TV, so I have a seat and wait.
“Sorry, I got off work a little late. I’m almost ready. There’s beer in the fridge if you want one.”
“Take your time,” I reply, standing up to grab a beer out of the fridge. I twist off the top, take a drink and walk back to the couch. I get lost watching the game and, the next thing I know, she’s walking into the room.
“I’m ready. Who’s winning?”
“The Cardinals are up by seven,” I reply, finally looking over at her. When my eyes find her standing at the door, putting her things into her purse, I freeze. She’s wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts, strappy sandals, and a white tank top that’s loose and flowing around her stomach. Her red hair is curled and hanging down to the middle of her back, and when she turns to face me, her eyes are lightly lined, and her lashes are long and thick. I’ve never seen her with much makeup or curled hair, but I can feel my jeans tightening the longer I watch her.
“You ready?” she asks, not noticing my sudden internal panic.
I clear my throat. “Ugh, yeah,” I agree, sitting up and reaching for the remote. I grab it and turn off the TV. I pick up my beer and finish it off, trying my best to get control over my body. When the beer is gone, the urge to pull her against me is numbed. I stand and take the bottle to the trash before following her out to her car.
She climbs behind the wheel and I do my best to keep my attention on the road and not her bare legs, which are pressed against the leather of the seat. When she starts talking about the place we’re going to eat, I’m thankful for the distraction.
“This place isn’t fancy by any means. In fact, you can’t even go in and sit down. You order at the window and sit at one of the picnic tables outside.”
“What kind of food do they have?”
“They have the best sandwiches. I spent one summer picking something different every time I went so I could try the whole menu, and, honestly, you can’t go wrong no matter what you choose. They have awesome Italian beef, great Philly cheesesteaks, and even BBQ sandwiches. They have fries, onion rings, tots, and you can load them up any way you want—cheese, chili, onions and peppers. Then they have a bunch of ice cream, shakes, snow cones. It’s only open in the summer, so get your fill.”
I laugh and start trying to decide on what sounds good. It’s a welcomed distraction from thinking about her body and how I can’t touch her. The food stand isn’t far from the house, so we get there within a few minutes.
The building is small and painted white and orange. The menu is plastered on the side of the brick building, and there’s a small window for ordering. I end up going with a Philly cheesesteak, an order of fries, and a chocolate shake. She picks an Italian beef, tots, and slushy to drink with a strawberry sundae on the side. The whole order comes up to twelve bucks.
My eyes double in size.
She giggles at my expression. “See, I told you this place was awesome.”
We pick a picnic table and have a seat. The sun has fallen beneath the skyline, painting the sky with blues, purples, pinks, and oranges. The town is quiet and there isn’t much traffic moving on the street in front of us. It’s calm and relaxing.
“So how long until this party, and where is it?”
“It’s not next weekend but the one after, and it’s in Colorado where I’m from.”
“Have you picked out a hotel?”
“I haven’t yet, but I will. I’ll make sure we get a fun one with a restaurant and bar, maybe a pool and Jacuzzi.”
“Well, let me know how much I owe you for my half.”
Savannah grins and rolls her eyes. “Are you kidding me? You’re doing this as a favor. The trip is on me.”
I open my mouth to argue but a man places a tray of food between us, and Savannah digs right in. She takes a big drink of her slushy, then holds her head in her hands.
“Brain freeze,” she whimpers while I laugh and toss a fry in my mouth.
After a moment, she’s back to normal and scarfing food like she’s in an eating contest. I have to give it to her, though, the food is amazing. My chocolate shake is the perfect consistency, not too milky and not too thick. And it tastes incredible mixed with the salt from my fries.
She reaches over and steals a fry. I don’t object until she tries to dunk it in my shake. “Whoa,” I say, covering the top. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve never done this before?”
“No, I’m not a crazy person.”
