I couldn’t believe it. It was the most romantic first date gesture...but this wasn’t a date. My chin was tipping up and down anyway.
“Take a breath, it’s okay,” he said softly, releasing my hand and leaning away from me. “I can see that you’re shy. Just tell me that you like me. Give me some hope.”
His grin made it impossible not to nod, smiling back.
“Great. Step A,” he chuckled. “Always good to establish that a team is headed in the right direction.”
Sliding his arm back, his knee resumed brushing against mine as we finished our coffee, and made more notes. By the time he walked me back to the office, we had not only the documentary framework sketched out, but also a shortlist of places where we could shoot some b-roll to go under the voiceover at the beginning and end.
As I turned to go into my office building, Owen slipped his arms around me. His hug was soft, as if he were afraid to break me. “I can’t wait to see you soon, Brynn.”
Watching him walk to his car, it was difficult to tear my eyes from that sexy, confident stride and go inside.
It took all of my concentration to type up our notes without becoming lost in the memory of the way Owen stared at me. No man had ever looked at me like that. The thrill that tingled through my shoulders just from thinking about it felt unnaturally electric.
I’d never really dated before beyond a few hangouts with guys in college, but it never went anywhere. I just didn’t feel enough of a spark to make me want to get over the awkward bits, like forcing myself to really open up to them. Getting to know a guy and becoming close to him would make me feel anxious.
With women, especially my friends, I was reasonably outgoing. But men were a completely different animal.
By five-thirty, I had a rough draft of the fifteen-minute script, along with a loose framework of all the shots. I’d leave the details to Owen, but a rough list of the visuals along with the text was probably helpful for both of us.
After I emailed it to him, I grabbed my purse and headed for the bus stop a block away. Owen was leaning on the front of his car in the parking lot, reading something on his phone while running a hand through his thick brown hair, messing it up perfectly.
“This script is fantastic,” he said as I approached.
“It’s a very rough draft,” I said quickly, knowing that I still had to perfect the wording in several places.
His smile felt like it was burning straight through me. “If this is the rough draft, your boss is going to flip when he sees the final version.”
“What are you doing back here?” I asked.
“Picking you up.”
My blank stare caused him to chuckle deeply. “Come on, get in.”
His car was a lot fancier than I would have expected for a videographer who was currently shooting b-roll bits and pieces for a media company, but I kept my mouth shut.
After driving for about ten minutes, Owen pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall.
“Where are we?” I asked, looking around for a clue.
“We’re shooting some footage, but also hanging out and having a drink,” he said.
Owen rushed around to help me out of the car, keeping an arm around my waist as he grabbed a camera bag from the backseat.
Looking around, the store signs listed a dry cleaner, a pawn shop, and a sign for a bowling alley. Owen led me to the door decorated with dancing bowling pins. The alley must have been underground, but the closed sign was hanging prominently at eye level.
He knocked three times, and then a few moments, an elderly man climbed up the stairs to let us in.
“Thanks, Arthur,” Owen said, shaking the man’s hand. “This is Brynn.”
Arthur shook my hand warmly, his eyes crinkling when he smiled. “Now I see why he needed a perfect date spot immediately.”
“We’re actually shooting a documentary. I need some fifties footage,” Owen explained.
“Well, we’ve got the place for that,” Arthur said, leading us down the stairs.
As we turned the corner at the bottom, I gasped. Owen slipped his arm around my waist, giving me a little squeeze. “It’s perfect, right?”