Page 52 of Brick Wall
“Goldie,” Sebastian imitates with the same voice inflection and nods as he moves farther into the apartment.
Sebastian greets me with a half hug and asks if I’m ready. I nod as a reply because I’m not sure whether I can speak right now.
He looks and smells so good, with his familiar scent of cedar and citrus and a hint of chocolate. He’s also wearing dark jeans and a black T-shirt. I don’t know how I feel about twinning it on our first date, so I grab a light blue jacket by the door just in case.
He opens his truck door for me, and as I jump in, he says in a husky voice, “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you, you do too.”
I also notice we are both twinning our blushes at the moment.
The car ride to our destination is fairly quick. He tells me nothing about what we’re doing, but we pull up to a cute French restaurant in the South End, where he valets his truck.
After a quick exchange with the valet attendant, Sebastian opens the door to said restaurant. It’s adorable inside, with white tablecloths, dim lighting, and candles at each table. The restaurant is small, with only a handful of tables, although all the tables are empty except for ours.
“I know the chef,” Sebastian says shyly when he sees my confusion about an empty restaurant just for us.
“Wow. This is great. Thank you.” I slip into the chair that Sebastian pulls out for me.
I haven’t seen Sebastian since the night of our first kiss in the shed, but we’ve talked every day since our phone call of him asking me out. We’ve been mostly texting—quick texts here and there—but it’s been a nice reprieve from my busy schedule.
We fall into easy conversation and share in greater detail about our previous week after we place our order.
“That game was stressing me out yesterday,” I share with Sebastian. I’m unsure if he likes to discuss the details of his game or would rather leave work at work. “That last drive was killer.”
The Boston Revs won their first game of the season on Sunday afternoon, just barely. They were down by three points with two minutes left. However, Quinn threw the game-winning touchdown with seven seconds left to spare. Talk about a nail-biter.
“Yeah, I was stressed too,” Sebastian easily agrees. “It sucks to start the season off with a loss, so I’m glad we came from behind to win that one.”
“Yeah, it’s great to win your first game, especially an away game.”
He nods in agreement. “You had a similar victory this weekend,” he says as he lifts his red wineglass, and I clink my glass to his.
Sebastian is referring to my weekend victory at the Harvard Invitational this past weekend. We didn’t win every game, but we did dang well. I’m proud of my girls; they ranked higher than expected from the “experts,” but I knew we’d have an impressive showing.
“It’s great to kick off the season on a good note,” I agree, as we clink our glasses together again.
Our server brings over our food and places several plates down. Sebastian ordered a large porterhouse steak with potatoes and veggies, salmon with rice pilaf, and a salad. I ordered the steak frites because it’s fun to say, and I love a good steak.
He looks almost embarrassed as the server drops several plates in front of him before taking off to return to the kitchen.
I don’t know why he would be embarrassed. I know he must eat a lot of calories every day to perform at the elite level he does. I get it. I don’t care.
It’s a delicate balance for him as an offensive lineman. He needs to eat many calories to keep up his weight and energy, but not so many that he goes over.
I’m happy that Sebastian could get back to his weight range. He messaged me after his final check-in before the game that he made it back in his range, just barely, but he avoided fines.
I’m happy that he felt comfortable enough with me to share his problem with me, and I’m glad he took my advice and reached out to his team for extra help. It meant a lot to me that he could trust me with his problems, and I was happy I could be there for him.
With the delicious smells in front of us, I decide to concentrate on my steak for a moment. I slide my knife against the grain and pop a piece into my mouth.
“Oh my God, this is so good,” I say after I finish the first bite of my steak.
“Right?”
We both focus on our dinner and don’t talk too much, and afterward, we are both in a delicious food coma.
The server comes to clear our plates and we both order another glass of red wine. I don’t think either of us wants thenight to be over with. I know I sure don’t.
