Page 112 of Girls Will Be Girls
Once I’m dressed in my most colorful little summer dress — a flower pattern with pink, blue, and peach scattered over white — with all my nicest jewelry, including the ring he gave me, and my best white sneakers, my hair flowing down in a light curl and my eyes popping with pink and purple eyeshadow, I go out to the back porch to let Lou know I’m ready like I told him I would.
But he’s not there.
Just as I’m about to go find him, there’s a knock at the front door.
With an eye roll — knowing he did this on purpose — I open the door to find him not only looking so gorgeous I could go into cardiac arrest purely because of it, but holding a small bouquet of flowers.
“Baby girl…” He rasps almost possessively. “You look gorgeous.”
My cheeks turn pink to match my blush. “Thanks,” I say. “So do you.”
He laughs gently. “Thanks.”
“I thought I said I’d meet you out back,” I tell him off.
“You did.” He smiles. “But this is better.”
I roll my eyes at him, but can’t keep the smile off my face.
“Here.” He passes me the flowers.
“Thanks.” I take the bouquet, stroking a petal on one of the big daisies — my favorite flower. “Do you wanna come in so I can put these in something?”
“I probably shouldn’t.” He puts his hands in his shorts pockets.
“Why?” I laugh.
“Because that dress is driving me crazy, so I don’t think we’ll leave again if I come in.” He smiles, but it’s almost painful as his gaze drops to my bare legs. “And I have things planned.”
“Wouldn’t want to ruin your plans,” I smirk at him playfully.
Once my flowers are sitting in a mug on the coffee table, I head back out to a waiting Lou. He laces his fingers through mine as soon as I reach the threshold of the lodge where he said he’d stay, and we start walking down into town.
I ask him about his time in Carson City, he tells me about the boring parts quickly, including the interviews he did and the donor breakfast the next morning. Then he moves on to tell me about the best part of the trip, when he and Noah ordered obscene amounts of room service and watchedThe Rock— another Nicolas Cage classic — in Lou’s hotel room.
He prods me about what I did yesterday, but I keep it vague because he doesn’t have to know I sat around pining for him and complaining to my friends about how much I was pining for him.
“Okay we’re here.” Lou stops us in the middle of the street, with nothing but the lake on one side of the road and a hardware store on the other.
“We are?” I look around, confused.
“Almost, but this is where I explain the date.” He says.
I laugh. “Do all good dates need explaining?”
“Yes.” He grins and pinches my side, making me squeal. “So, we’re doing a kind of bar crawl.”
“Okay.”
“But it won’t be bars, and it won’t be alcohol.” He explains.
“What are we crawling?” I ask skeptically.
“Baked goods.”
“Baked goods?” I repeat a little too enthusiastically.
“And their accompanying drinks.” He adds on. “So I hope you don’t mind a sugar rush for lunch.”
