Page 93 of Grounded
A hot rage burns inside of me. I finally get the opportunity to win her over as she pretends to be my girlfriend, yet the night before she's going to be wined and dined by that asshole? If it goes well, she might cancel on me altogether.
"A date. Cool."
"You're such a wordsmith, Theo."
"It's getting late."
"It's barely 8:30 p.m.!"
"You better go to bed soon so you can get a good night's sleep for your date tomorrow."
Hisbrush-offasheexits the pool gives me whiplash. What the hell? His departure is so abrupt I'm standing there for a solid minute before I can comprehend how I ended up out here alone.
The conversation was going so well. We were opening up to each other. I admitted I'm going on a date, something he suggested and was supportive of earlier this month, and now that's a hot topic for him?
I'm not stupid. I see the way we look at each other. There might be an unspoken attraction we can't deny, but we know what happened in the kitchen can't progress.
It can't.
Thefollowingnight,Iallow myself some time to get ready for my date.
Theo's Mustang leaves a trail of gas fumes as it rambles home, powering down our street and giving everyone a head's up he has returned. That thing is so loud it shakes the house. I have to wait to put on my mascara so I don't smear it across my eyebrows.
My car should be ready next week, and I can't wait to have dependable transportation again. I'm borrowing my dad's car for dinner tonight, and I'm glad Dylan suggested meeting at the restaurant and not picking me up at home.
I'm not ready to date, but I think this will be a nice icebreaker for me; a toe in the dating pool before I submerge there…one day.
Dylan already got a table, and he has earned a point for making a reservation on a busy Friday evening. When I spot him, I expect a flip in my stomach, maybe a dead butterfly coming back to life. Not even when he beams a perfectly white, possibly veneered smile, does my chest light up. The appeal when I was rear-ended is gone, but I'm hopeful it's just nerves.
"You look great. How are you?" He's a gentleman and gets up from his chair to give me a kiss on my cheek. He even pulls out my chair and assists me as I sit down.
"Oh, thank you. I'm doing well, how are you?" I ask.
"Great, I'm so glad you had time for me."
"How's your brother? I hope he's not still upset about the accident."
"He's fine. Our parents only grounded him for a few weeks."
"Ha!" His joke sticks, but then there’s a brief awkward silence.
I don't have the energy for this. To make small talk, to pretend I'm ready to move on when I'm not. It's been a month and I'm subjecting myself to this for the sake of getting over Theo.
Wow, I mean Beckett. Getting over Beckett. My ex, not my stepbrother.
Dylan is in the middle of a story, and I realize I spaced out for most of it.
"What do you do for work?" he asks.
"I'm between jobs at the moment."
I don't have the energy to explain my part-time job or my living arrangements. To be honest, I don't feel like getting personal with him at all.
In spite of his good looks, I feel nothing. All that energy and excitement are gone now that I'm sitting in front of him.
"Order whatever you want. I'm buying," he informs me.
"Oh, wow thank you."
