Bad Intentions - Too Bad It’s Fake

“Hey,” Noah said, waiting outside in another tailored suit and dress coat — looking sharp.

“Hey,” I said, kissing him on the cheek.

“Wow,” he said, sounding surprised and backing up just a bit.

“Sorry,” I said, thinking he might not have wanted me to.

“No, it’s okay, just took me by surprise is all.”

“I can be somewhat spontaneous.”

“So, I noticed,” he said, it now being his turn to blush. The red making his sharp cheekbones even more apparent.

“I guess it makes sense that you would be surprised, being such a tactician and all.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

He stopped in his tracks. “You don’t think I’m stalking you, do you?”

I giggled and wiggled my hips at him. In answer, Noah rolled his eyes.

“I just think you’re really organized and really keen,” I teased. “I mean, you do usually text first or only.”

“And if you didn’t want to see me, I would leave,” he argued.

“Good to know,” I said, meaning it more than my tone might have implied.

Before I could kiss him again, on the lips this time, I heard a set of very familiar footsteps coming up behind us.

“My two favorite people,” Jim Howell joked as he approached.

“Really?” Noah and I asked at the same time.

“Of course!” Jim said, with all the earnestness for which lawyers were famous.

“I think your wife might have something to say about that,” Noah said with a grin.

“I did say my favorite two people. Vicky is in the singular.” Mr. Howell raised his dark eyebrows like he expected us to find him a genius.

“Ah,” Noah laughed.

“I see,” I confirmed.

“How is your lovely wife these days?” Noah asked as we all started walking towards the parking lot.

“Fine, thanks for asking. We were both a bit run thin when James was born, but now that he’s older, it’s eased off a bit. Especially for her.”

“I can imagine,” I said, wondering what it would be like to have to nurse several times a day.

“We’re actually planning a date night tonight.”

“How sweet!” Noah said.

“Serious?” Jim asked.

“Of course,” Noah said, nodding.

“I can’t always tell.”

“Me either,” I said, trying to make Jim feel better.

He stopped. “Hey, why don’t you two come with us?”

“Sorry?” I said.

“Come again?”

“It can be like a double-date,” Jim said with characteristic enthusiasm.

“I’m sorry how old are we?” Noah asked.

“You think it sounds what? Adolescent?” Jim asked.

“I was thinking more old-school,” Noah said, “When was the last time you heard of someone going on a double date?”

“Other than Vicky and me?” Jim asked.

“Yes,” Noah confirmed.

“Sometime around 2000.”

“Exactly.”

“Retro is hip,” Jim pointed out.

“You’ve seen my car, right?” Noah asked.

“Exactly, so, you’ll come?”

“What do you think?” Noah asked, conferring with me.

“Sure, sounds like fun,” I said, liking the idea of Noah and I being on a real date.

“Great, we’ll meet you at La Fromage at around seven.”

“Lovely,” Noah said.

“Great,” I concurred.

Jim kept going on his way and Noah and I both looked at each other, it clear from our expressions that we were both thinking pretty much the same thing.

“Did he say La Fromage?” I asked.

“He did.”

“Does he know what that means?”

“Probably not, which is why he was able to say it with a straight face,” Noah observed.

“That makes sense. I wonder why they call it that.”

“Most likely irony, assuming most American’s wouldn’t speak French well enough to get it.”

“Oh, okay. I thought maybe they had a lot of cheese-based dishes.”

“Well, you never know, it is a French restaurant,” Noah quipped.

“They can get rather excited about their cheese,” I agreed.

“I’m not sure if that is prejudiced or not,” Noah mused.

“Could be though it seems more like a stereotype.”

“True. Prejudices can come from stereotypes, but stereotypes aren’t in themselves prejudices.”

“Oh yeah, talk dirty to me!” I joked.

“It was a wee bit pedantic, wasn’t it?” he said blushing again.

“It actually is pretty sexy,” I admitted, “

“Really?” Noah asked, genuinely surprised.

“Brainy is the new sexy, baby,” I said, putting on my best salutary voice, “especially when you blush. Very cute.”

“Oh,” he said, blushing even harder.

“See, there it is again!”

I gave him a kiss of consolation on his warm, crimson cheek, and we headed out to our respective cars to prepare for the night’s events.

At home, I debated what I should wear. My inner rebel wanted to be true to myself and dress like I normally do. Though my voice of reason told me to try my best to fit in with the restaurant, which I knew to be very fancy despite its in-joke of a name, as well with dashing Jim and his stunning wife, Vicky. They really could be on the cover of a magazine.

I searched until I found my one little black dress. The one my brother gave me when I finished high school. I couldn’t really be sure if it was meant as a joke or not, being more of a jeans skirt and baggy top girl up until that point, but I decided to try and be touched deeply at, what I assumed to be, a thoughtful gesture.