Page 19 of Giovanni
As I take my time getting to the front to wait for him, I can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation for what the evening will bring—cooking, laughing, and maybe sharing a bit more of ourselves. And for the first time in a long while, I’m not concerned with who’s in charge. Because with Giovanni, it feels like we’re just two people figuring things out without a verdict hanging in the balance.
I lean against the cool wall, a brief respite as Giovanni disappears toward his boss’s office. Alone for a moment, I glimpse myself in the reflection of the glass front. I’m a mess—a sweaty, flushed, endorphin-fueled mess. Smoothing back my hair, I try to tame the wild curls that seem to have grown bigger from the heat off my scalp. My makeup, what little I put on this morning, has mostly surrendered to the workout, but I dab at the smudges under my eyes. This isn’t a date, I remind myself. Still, I want to look decent and presentable. Sexy would be better, but that was many months and thirty pounds ago.
Lost in my reflection, I almost don’t notice Giovanni returning. He’s got a backpack slung over one shoulder and a lunch box in the other hand.
“Sorry I didn’t walk you to the front. I should have.”
There’s a note of genuine apology in his voice. I wave him off with a reassuring smile.
“It’s fine. I needed a minute to collect myself anyway.”
I gesture vaguely at my appearance, silently acknowledging my disheveled state. He chuckles, the sound warm and comforting.
“You look great. Really.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help the smile that rises on my face.
“Thanks. So, which grocery store are we meeting at?”
The question feels like a lifeline, steering us back to the plan, to the neutral ground where I feel more sure-footed than compliments and flirting.
“There’s a great place near here with everything we need for meal prep. It’s called Green Earth Groceries. Ever been?”
He adjusts the backpack on his shoulder, ready to go.
“Can’t say I have, but I’m all for new experiences.”
The words are more than just about the store. They’re about this entire evening unfolding before me. I apply pressure on my foot, my ankle protesting. His hand cups my elbow to help even though I feel stronger with a renewed sense of purpose. This is good. This is what I need—a break from the norm.
A break from going through the fast-food drive-thru as I did after Saturday’s workout, a reward for all my hard work. A break from my bad health habits. Who better to share it with than this attractive man who’s already changing how I feel about myself and my wellness journey?
“Great, it’s just a five-minute drive from here.”
He helps me to my car, a sweet and caring gesture. Once I’m seated with the engine purring, he jogs to his truck, aneasy athleticism in his movements. He throws his backpack and lunch box in, then jumps behind the wheel to pull out of the parking lot with a wave for me to follow.
The drive is quick. When we arrive at Green Earth Groceries, Giovanni parks near the entrance. My ankle twinges as I step out of the car, and a flicker of doubt crosses my mind. How much walking can I manage?
“Um, I’m not sure this is a good idea after all.”
I hobble toward him, my ankle swelling from the pressure I keep sporadically applying. Giovanni seems to read my thoughts. He’s at my side instantly, gesturing to the store’s motorized scooter, complete with a shopping basket.
“Why don’t you use this? No point in straining your ankle further.”
I hesitate, the idea of drawing attention to myself on the scooter makes me squirm.
“Oh no. I’d rather not. People might stare.”
Before I can finish, Giovanni, with a mischievous glint in his eye, hops onto the scooter.
“Let people stare.”
He drives in tight circles, the scooter humming under his weight. I can’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up despite my discomfort.
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, thoroughly charmed by his antics. He stops circling and looks at me, his smile wide.
“Come on, Kacie. It’s either you or me on this thing, and I’ve got to say, I’m kind of liking it.”
The playfulness in his voice is infectious.
