Page 28 of The Luck of Finding You
Gran and Holly have zeroed in on the fact that Noah is back in my life and keep saying that since he gave me such an earth-shattering kiss the first time, maybe I should kiss him again.
I was trying so hard not to kiss him the other night that I blurted out I was going on a date tonight. Noah didn’t even flinch when I told him, and that was slightly disappointing. That he didn’t even seem to care. Which is exactly why dating will be good for me. At least until I can meet Mo and maybe we’ll see if there’s a spark of something more than friendship.
The doorbell rings. “I’m going on my date now,” I tell Gran and grab my bag.
“You should go out with Noah. Or at least invite him to dinner on Sunday. A grown man needs to be fed, and with family.”
“He has his own family, Gran.”
“Not here! He needs a family here. Invite him, will you?” I know she won’t let this go until I agree.
“All right.” I’ll mention it last minute tomorrow. That way maybe he’ll have plans and won’t be able to come, but I can tell Gran that I did invite him.
I open the door and smile at Luke.
He looks exactly like I remembered. His dark hair is longer than it was in high school and it curls around his ears. His smile reaches his deep brown eyes as he takes me in. “Tally Nelson,” he says and then whistles. He actually whistles. I didn’t know that people did that in real life. “Tally Nelson,” he repeats, as if he can’t believe it.
“Hey,” I say, because I don’t know how to respond. I close the door behind me and follow him down the front walk, stopping short when I see a small cherry-red scooter parked in front of the house. “That’s your ride?” I frown at him and he grins.
“I’m saving up for an actual bike, but I mostly drive around town, so the scooter works! Her name is Apple.”
I swallow. I have no words. He named his scooter Apple? Who names a scooter at all? What kind of grown man owns a scooter anyway?
“Plus, she gets great gas mileage.”
“We can take my car.” I point toward my sturdy Honda Accord. It may be fifteen years old, but it runs. Our restaurant reservation is thirty minutes away if you take the freeway. In a car.
Luke shakes his head. “I’m gonna ride this, but you can drive your car if that makes you more comfortable. I do have a helmet for you.” He lifts the seat and grabs two identical bright-orange helmets that clash with the color of the scooter.
I hate the idea of riding on the back of his scooter with him, but I also don’t really want to drive myself. We’re supposed to be on a date. How can we talk in the car if we’re not taking a car?
“It’s fine,” I grumble, grabbing the helmet. My hair is going to be completely flat by the time we get to the restaurant.It’s too late now, I think as I pull on my helmet.
My fingers are frozen by the time we get to the restaurant forty-five minutes later, and I’m starving.
The waitress sets a basket of rolls on our table, saying she’ll give us a minute. I slide onto the bench, surprised when Luke bumps my shoulder as he slides in next to me.
“Oh,” I say, because I can no longer form actual words.
“It’s more fun this way!” he says in an annoyingly high pitch that makes me a little nauseous. I’m not sure who he’s trying to impress right now. I watched him act this way with so many girls in high school. I can’t believe I thought tonight would be any different.
As his arm brushes mine, I’m thrown back in time to a different booth and a different boy, but I pull open the menu because Noah is the last person I want to be thinking about right now.
I’m deciding between a burger or a steak when suddenly my menu disappears. Luke is smiling at me, now holding both of our menus tucked under his elbow so I can’t grab it from him.
“Tell me about what you do these days,” he says, and I can’t hate him for it. He is completely here and present in this date, and I’m so in my head that conversation will help me get out of it.
“I manage a bookstore,” I tell him, and confusion crosses his face.
“Oh, you’re still doing that? I thought you’d started something else,” he says, and I wonder who exactly he’s been talking to about me. Or how he even knew I worked at a bookstore to begin with since I’m fairly private about my real life online.
“Nope.” I force a smile. “I’m managing a bookstore. It’s not what I expected, but I really like it.”
“Huh,” Luke says, and our waitress appears, saving me from having to come up with something else to say.
“What can I get for you?” she asks us.
“I’ll get the twelve-ounce sirloin with double fries,” Luke tells her, and before I can put in my own order, he says, “and she’ll have the Cobb salad.”
