I see the rose first before I see Marlon. Then, I take him in.
He’s clad in a loose, white polo shirt that’s tucked into a pair of smooth, black trousers. He looks like a regency hero. His hair, usually tousled, is a lot neater, and I glimpse the sheen of gel. The culprit of this new look.
Marlon does not look the part of a charming prince, but all the parts of a dashing knight. The thought slithers into my mind unwarranted.
Marlon Salvador ishandsome, and I hate it.
I take the rose from his hands, and after a beat I finally remember to say, “Hi.”
“Hi Jas,” he says with that cheeky smile. He turns to my parents and bows his head respectfully, “Hi Tita, Tito.”
He steps forward, pressing his cheek to theirs in greeting.
“Not too late, okay, Marlon?” Dad points his finger at Marlon as he says this, but the glint in his eyes gives his playfulness away.
Regardless, Marlon nods in compliance, ever the good boy.
“Of course Tito. I will have her back safely.”
“You two have fun, okay?” Mum coos. I hand her the rose before stepping out the door. Marlon leads me to his car, and opens the door for me.
Once we’ve both stepped inside, he turns to me,
“You looked a bit flustered back there, Garcia,” he teases and I hate the blush that crawls onto my face, “Do I have anything to do with that?”
I roll my eyes, slapping his shoulder for good measure.
“Shut up. You clean up well, and that’s all I’ll admit, but you’re an ass.”
“So, you agree that I’m good looking?”
Oh he’s insufferable. Especially if he thinks I’d admit that.
“Just drive, loser.”
The sound of his laughter blends with the engine as he pulls out of my house, and I watch my parents as they wave us off.
“So where are we going?” I ask. We still hadn’t figured that out.
“This strikingly handsome outfit that had you tongue-tied is about as far as I thought of, especially since I only found out about these plans five hours ago. Where do you want to go?”
There is no way that I am going to eat in a fancy restaurant with Marlon tonight. As much as I can, I want to avoid anything that’ll resemble a real date. Our little act at the door is as far as I’m willing to go.
“Let’s just get some takeout somewhere,” I say.
“Hmm, sounds good, I don’t want to spend much tonight,” Marlon adds. I almost sigh with relief at his agreement until he slaps the steering wheel slightly.
“Wait, but my parents also want pics, and sorry but I don’t want them, or your parents thinking I took you to a KFC or something for your first date.”
That’s true. I sit back, thinking of another solution. I perch up.
“How about, like, a park or a hill, or an overlook or something?” I suggest, “That way we can still get cheap food, but at least the nice view will even it out. We can camp out there until we’ve spent a reasonable amount of time out.”
“Oh, how you sweep me off my feet Garcia,” Marlon coos.
The nearest fast-food outlet to us is a Mexican joint.
As we walk in through the front doors, we earn a few puzzled glances from the patrons. For a moment I’m confused as to why we’d be gaining so much attention, until I catch my reflection in a window.
