Page 5 of Wrong Number

Me: Hey, gorgeous. May I take you out tonight? I can pretty much guarantee that it will be a better date than the one you had last night.

I was relieved when only a few minutes passed before she replied.

Tana: Considering that you actually asked permission to hug me last night, I think we will be off to a much better start.

Me: I will certainly not be trying to get you drunk. And if I touch your knee under the table, it will either be an accident, or I will be sure to notice if you jump away.

Tana: Good, because Megan still hasn’t gotten back to me, so you’re still the only one I could text for help.

Me: Ha ha.

Me: May I pick you up at seven?

Tana: Sure. Where are we going?

Me: Dinner, then this and that.

Tana: A man of mystery. OK. See you soon!

I loved that she seemed less timid when texting. I also loved that she didn’t need to know every single detail of where we were going.

It was fun to surprise people. It wasn’t a giant adventure like climbing a mountain, or jumping from a plane. I once read a cheesy book on dating that said women appreciated unique date locations like a new restaurant, or a tiny club that nobody has heard about yet.

Apparently, surprising women was part of the whole “take charge” energy that they liked.

I honestly had no idea how much stock I put in that book, but my last three relationships had all lasted less than a month, and been completely annoying. It was great when a woman spoke her mind, but when it was to nitpick every single detail of what I did, ate, and wore, it got pretty obnoxious.

I didn’t want to be judged, I just wanted to hang out with a sweet girl. That shouldn’t be too much to ask.

As I walked up the sidewalk to Tana’s building, I sent her a text.

Me: I just realized I can’t buzz you because I don’t know your last name.

Tana: I’ll buzz you in now, apartment 416.

As soon as I walked toward the door, it buzzed, and I went straight up to her door. I tapped lightly, and she flung it open with a bright smile. Then she stared at the flowering potted plant in my hands. “Is that for me?”

“Yes,” I said, as she took it from my hands, giggling sweetly. “Cut flowers die, so hopefully this will live more than a few days.”

“That’s unbelievably sweet,” she said, placing it on her kitchen island. “Thank you.”

Taking her hands, I had to stare at her for a few moments. She was wearing a bit of green eyeshadow that made her brown eyes look even more sultry. Funny that I’d never noticed a woman’s eyeshadow before in my life.

Her simple black and gray swirled dress clung to every curve, which was going to make it tricky to keep my hands off her. Just a hint of cleavage, and a hemline long enough to almost touch her knees. Somehow, it was even sexier that she wasn’t really trying to be sexy.

Tearing my eyes from her so that my staring didn’t freak her out, I took a look around her apartment. It was small and cozy, with a huge shelf that was packed with books, photos, and a series of glass spheres like modern crystal balls.

Three large black and white architectural photos hung on the living room wall. She laughed strangely as she saw me examine them. “For a brief time in high school, I thought about becoming an architect. But I didn’t have a natural knack for it. I still love buildings, and cool photos of them.”

“Those are really nice,” I said. As I looked around again, I saw that she really did have a great eye for design and balance. She was very creative. Somehow that made her sexier, and the terrible male animal portion of my brain wanted to scoop her in my arms and take her straight to the bedroom, or at least the couch. Giving my head a shake, I asked, “Are you ready to go?”

Tana grabbed her purse, and we headed for my car. As we chatted about the neighborhood on the drive, I appreciated that she didn’t ask where we were going. I drove to the edge of town, to a dingy little strip mall.

As I pulled into the lot, Tana examined the sign, then shot me a sideways glance. “I do my own nails, and I don’t need any dry cleaning done today. Where are we going?”

“Trust me,” I said, pulling the car into a spot at the end of the mall.

I ran around to open her door, and she read the red and white sign. “Vito’s? I’ve never heard of it.”

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