It’s making my heart slam into the walls of my chest.
There’s a reason I make stupid jokes when things get emotional. Stupid jokes don’t make your throat close.
Please don’t have a panic attack,I beg myself.Please don’t have a panic attack.
“Hey,” Seth says, his face drawing tight with concern. “Why do you look so upset?”
I look down at the table. I’m mortified that I can’t be who I need to be in this moment. The girl he deserves.
“I’m really scared,” I confess.
“Oh, Molls,” he murmurs. He stands up, walks around to my side of the table, and puts his hands on my shoulders.
His touch is such a relief. I lean back against him and close my eyes.
“Hey,” he says, stroking my hair. “Don’t be scared. This isgood. This ishappy.”
I reach for his hand and put it against my cheek. Its coolness is a balm against my flushed skin.
“I’m okay,” I say. “Thank you.” I take a very long sip of my ice water.
“I think this calls for something a little stronger,” Seth says.
He beckons our server and whispers into her ear. As they confer, the food comes, and I’m grateful for the distraction.
I still feel overwhelmed. But I can do this.
With him, I can do this.
Seth returns to his seat, and I begin carving into my crab Benedict.
“How is it?” he asks.
“Good. Crabby. How’s yours?”
He got—wait for it—Mickey Mouse pancakes.
“Good. Mousey. Want a bite?”
I shake my head. “I don’t eat rodents.”
“Some might say crabs are the rodents of the sea.”
“Ugh. Let me enjoy my crustaceans in peace, please.”
Our server comes back with a tray of bright pink cocktails garnished with huge, red, rock-candy suckers and neon bendy straws.
“Are those…”
“Shirley Temples!” Seth announces. “Just like our first date here.”
“Can I have vodka in mine?” I ask our server.
“Way ahead of you,” Seth says.
We clink our glasses.
“I guess it’s not surprising that I’m freaking out,” I say. “Do you remember how anxious I was on our first date?”
