"So.” I sit up, and I hate that I’m in front of her. I get up from my chair, and she watches me as I grab my chair and put it right next to hers. "Good choice?"
She turns toward me now. "Great choice." She leans in and kisses my lips softly. "Best first date ever."
I laugh at her. "You have nothing to compare it to," I tell her, and she shrugs.
"I don’t, but I have stories from all the other girls in my life and this." She twirls her finger. "This blows those out of the water."
"Well, if you’re keeping score …" I lean back in the chair, putting one hand on the back of her chair. All I did this week was search for date ideas. As soon as I was alone in my room, I would google best date advice. I googled what to do on a date to make her know you like her. The shit I searched was insane, and I made sure to clear my history as soon as I was done with it. If anyone knows me, they know I don’t do that. I don’t ever put effort into something that isn’t me. It’s just the selfish part of me. It’s a part that for tonight isn’t even available. "I brought you ten roses."
"Okay?" She turns, putting her hands on her lap. "Is that a good thing?"
"One rose means love at first sight," I tell her. "Two roses mean a shared and deep love. Three roses mean I love you." She puts her hand on the chair between us. My hand reaches over as my finger traces hers. "Six means I want to be yours. Seven says I’m infatuated with you." I smile at her. "Which is what I was going to go with until I saw what ten was. Nine roses mean eternal love and ten roses," I say, looking down at her chest rise and fall. "Ten roses mean you’re perfect."
"Oh my God," she whispers, and I laugh.
"It’s funny the things you find on the internet," I say when Fernando comes back and brings two plates with him.
"This is margherita pizza." He puts the plate down, and I see that there are two small square pieces. "And spaghetti with marinara sauce." He places the two plates in the middle of the table and then puts two empty plates in front of us, filling her plate and then mine. "I’ll be back soon."
I watch her take a bite of the pizza and moan. She didn’t even go for the fork and the knife; just picked it up with her hand and took a bite. "So good," she says, and I grab my own piece.
"How was work this week?" I ask, and she looks at me.
"Good." She puts down her piece and grabs her fork to eat some pasta. "We did the show yesterday with my father." She avoids my eyes.
"How was that?" I ask her, and I’m pissed I wasn’t there for her.
She shrugs. "It’s getting better. Still a little awkward, but at least he’s talking to me.”
"I don’t have any experience with that, but I think it’s a good thing," I tell her and she looks at me. I can see she has questions, so I laugh. "What do you want to know?"
"No." She shakes her head. "I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable." It’s the first time anyone has ever thought about how I would feel.
"It’s fine," I tell her. "It’s not really something that gets to me or that I feel anything about. My father passed away seven years ago. I didn’t even know until his lawyer contacted me." She gasps. "There was no last conversation with him. No I should have been there for you. Nothing." I shrug. "He didn’t even leave me a letter. Instead, there was a reading of his will where he left me money. It was the first time I was ever called his son." She puts her hand on mine. "We all make our choices, and he made his. Nothing I could have done or said would have changed anything. I thought about going to see him once when I got the contract with Dallas. When I was drafted." No one knows about this. “I wanted to just go to him and be like, look at everything that I did without you.” I shrug. “I didn’t. Instead, I say fuck him."
"Well, I hate to speak ill of the dead," she says, "but he sounds like a dick." I laugh at her. "Besides, you can give him the big F you by being better than him to your own kids."
"I don’t even know if I want kids," I share with her honestly. "It’s not like I know anything about raising a child. Look at how I turned out."