Page 20 of Doll Face

“Hey, what’s going on?” I raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t think I should go to lunch with you,” she says sharply.

“What? Why?” What the hell had happened from this morning to now?

“We’re wrong for each other. We can’t both get what we want and have the careers we want. It’s pointless to try this again when we both know how this ends.”

“Whoa,” I say aloud. I can’t help it. It’s like every fear she’s feeling got highlighted in the last few hours.

“I just can’t put myself through that all over again.”

“I understand where your worries are coming from but I’m not asking for a lifelong commitment right now; I’m just asking you out to lunch.”

“I know what lunch turns into.”

“Dinner?” I joke.

“Kenzie.” She frowns.

“I’m serious, Barbie. I know it’s a lot but I’m only here for a week, so why can’t we have this week and then go from there? I love you,” I say quietly. I reach for her hand, and she lets me hold it.

“Well, I only have an hour for lunch,” she says, changing the subject.

“I know. I’ll make sure you’re back in time.” I grin.

“Promise?”

“Maybe with a minute to spare.” I wink.

“Okay. I guess we can go to lunch.”

“Okay.” I take her hand. She’s taller than me in her heels, and I love the way she confidently towers over me.

We head out of the building to the car I have waiting for us, and we dash across town to the restaurant. Her eyes widen when she sees the name of the place.

“Is this…?”

“Our favorite place from back in California. It’s a chain, and it’s the same owners, I checked.”

“Thank you.” She smiles. I know she isn’t a fan of fancy restaurants but this is her only exception. I tell the hostess about our reservation, and she brings us to a booth in the back.

“Your food will be right out.”

“We— did you order already?” Barbie looks at me confused.

“My girl only has an hour break. I had to be proactive. Hopefully your tastebuds haven’t changed too much.” I smile.

“You got the steak quesadillas with extra sour cream and the nachos we share?” Her eyes widen and I nod. I’m relieved to know her palette hasn’t changed that much.

“Just for the record, we aren’t wrong for each other,” I say, repeating what she said earlier.

“I-I just…this is so much so soon,” she admits.

“It’s a lot but it doesn’t have to be. If we’re moving too fast, I can slow down, but I’m not going to hide how I’m feeling about you.”

The food comes, interrupting our conversation. There’s a few minutes of moans and groans from each of us about how good the food is. Then, I redirect the conversation to being about us when I know she’s listening.

“I love you, Barbie. I need you to know that. I want this week to be something we can both remember for the rest of our lives.”

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