Page 53 of First Impressions Series

I wanted to take some time out before Dylan got here to psych myself up a bit, and maybe give myself a little pep talk to get myself through it.

Now that the moment was here, I realized that it was more heartbreaking than I had even considered. This was actually going to be goodbye. How was I going to do this?

I had wanted to end things on good terms, and that was exactly what I intended to do. Just because I was losing what I now considered to be a true and wonderful, if not unexpected friend, did not mean I shouldn’t do this one last nice thing for him. He at least deserved that much from me.

The more I had thought about it, the more I decided that I had appreciated Dylan’s reaction to my drunken advances that weekend prior. Imagine how I would have felt now if he had gone along with it, even though he hadn’t felt anything for me. I would feel much more embarrassed, but also angry and taken advantage of, if I was honest with myself.

When I considered that, suddenly I felt differently about the whole situation. I respected Dylan so much more because he did what he had done that night.

Dylan arrived a few minutes early, true to his character. He saw me and joined me at my table with a nervous expression.

“You’re not having second thoughts now, are you?” I chided playfully.

“Not at all,” he responded. “Good evening,” he greeted me with his gorgeous, charming smile from across the table where he took his seat. He wore a tight-fitting green button down shirt that looked like it had been pressed, along with some dark wash jeans that hugged his thighs and butt in a delicious way that could not escape my notice.

“Good evening to you,” I smiled. “Are you ready for your final session? Maybe tonight is your lucky night,” I opted for optimism.

“I have a good feeling it could be,” he admitted.

“Well, I’m only here for moral support. Tonight we’re taking off the training wheels so we can see how you fare doing this on your own.”

“Okay, I like that idea. I was going to suggest the same thing, to see how well I do at choosing the right girl for myself now, from what you’ve shown me,” he said.

“That sounds like a plan,” not necessarily a good one, but a plan, nonetheless. The thought of him finding a girl he really liked tonight sent a piercing pain through my chest, but I carried on without giving anything away. This was for him; this was not about me. “So, do you want to look around and check out the playing field you have tonight?”

Dylan looked around the room for a moment, and then looked back at me and smiled. “I think I see one that might pass the Marzia Benagli seal of approval. I tell you what, I’m going to go to the bar and get a couple of drinks, and then I’ll just go up to her and offer her one. Does that sound like a good plan?” he asked.

“Yes, I think that’s a great plan,” I admitted.

“Okay… so what kind of a drink should I get that might generally be a good one to offer a girl?” It was a good question, and I couldn’t help but notice that even before he got to know some lucky girl tonight, he was trying to be thoughtful.

“Well, I guess for most girls, you can’t go wrong with something fruity, like a cherry vodka sour or a margarita,” I told him, and with a nod, he was on his way to the bar.

So I guessed that was it. Now all I had to do was grin and bear the next hour or so, until I could politely see myself out after watching Dylan meet, flirt with, and hit it off with some beautiful, lucky girl. Probably some girl who wouldn’t even deserve him and wouldn’t really know just what a great guy she had standing right in front of her, dazzled only by the beautiful exterior and never taking the time to look deeper to the true and amazing beauty that was inside him.

I could only hope that she would live up to everything I had taught him to look for in a girl. He at least deserved that; someone with dignity and grace. He deserved someone with standards, but with a sense of humor, and someone with her own identity that didn’t revolve around the approval of male attention.

I looked at my phone, not wanting to look up, afraid that he’d had enough time by now to get his drinks from the bar and make his way over to whoever the lucky girl would be.

Then, I thought, maybe I could find someone in here that I knew to talk to, to help pass the time and distract my mind with some conversation. I could spare a glance up for that.

But as I looked up, a beautiful, wonderfully familiar man with two drinks in his hand approached me.

Dylan?

“A tall rum and coke with a lime for the beautiful lady?” Dylan said as he sat the drink in front of me. “Single shot, of course,” he added.

“Thank you. How did you know?” I asked him, confused, as he sat back down at my table.

“I pay attention,” he answered. “I didn’t think a fruity drink would do for the girl I had in mind tonight.” He looked straight into my eyes, holding my gaze as confusion continued to grow.

“Are you waiting on someone who isn’t here yet?”

I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I had to admit I was grateful for the delay and the few more moments of time with him that it bought me.

“No, Zia. She’s sitting right here in front of me.” Dylan grabbed my hands and angled me to face him directly, to command my full attention. “It’s always been you.”

“Me? I don’t understand.” My heart began to race faster than it has ever raced before. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? Was I hearing what I wanted to hear from wishful thinking right now?

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