Page 45 of The Surprise
But if it goes the other way, I’m going to be wrecked.
Not disappointed.
Not frustrated.
Wrecked.
I’m alreadywaytoo vested in this guy.Danger, Beth, danger!Only, even thinking about that doesn’t make me anything but happy to be with him.
And I should enjoy this—the first real, public date we’ve ever had. The first time I’ve let him take me out where people can see us. It’s a little scary, going out like we’re official. Taking Ethan to get ice cream at a place I loved as a kid. Driving almost an hour in winter for something cold.
It’s kind of crazy, really. I hope they stillhaveice cream right now. When we reach the diner-looking place, Ethan’s staring at me.
“What?”
“This says it’s agrill.”
I’m nervous, my hands still at ten and two on the steering wheel. “Yeah. It is.”
“I saidice cream,” he says. “That’s a sort of noncommittal date.”
What’s he saying?
“This feels like a real-deal kind of date, and I may not be ready for that.” He compresses his lips, and I realize he’s kidding.
I roll my eyes and yank the keys out of the ignition.
“Beth.”
I whip my head back his direction. “What now?”
He’s leaned closer, and now his face is just an inch or two from mine. “Kiss me.”
I swallow. “What?”
“Before we go in there, kiss me, here in this car, where no one we know is anywhere around, and tell me that you’re as excited as I am for our first date.”
“I am,” I whisper. And then I shift a hair.
Ethan comes the rest of the way, nearly crawling over the center dash to reach me, his hand gently pulling me closer, his mouth covering mine. As strongly as it did the first time, my heart races.
This kind, funny, smart,hotguy really likes me. . .and we’re going on a date. If this trial goes well, he’ll be my boyfriend for real, and if he had a white horse and a suit of armor, we’d be like a fairy tale in a book. It all feels. . .surreal. Like it can’t really be my life.
I practically float into the 1950s themed diner, not paying much attention to the red and white checked paper in the baskets, or the absurdly long menu. “I’ll have a cheeseburger and a huckleberry shake,” I say, when we reach the counter.
“Did you see they have a soda fountain?” Ethan asks. “Do you still want that?”
“What do you want?” I ask.
“A root beer float,” he says, and then he licks his lips like he’s four years old.
I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more in my life.
So I do.
Right there, in front of the cashier, in front of everyone in the diner.
Which is about four other people, but still.
