Page 5 of Moonshot

“So am I, Ava. See you in a few weeks. Bye.” I move toward her door and can’t help briefly looking back over my shoulder at her before walking away, noticing an odd expression on her face. She almost seems pained. Was she simply trying to get rid of me? She initially seemed so excited with her utterance of ‘yes.’Hell, Mick. You’re just being paranoid. Get your shit together. She said yes. This is a good thing.

* * *

It’s been two weeks, and I’m as nervous as a groom on his wedding day.What the fuck is wrong with me? Jeez, I go out with beautiful women all of the time.Why am I acting like this date is anything more than lunch? Because a girl like Ava doesn’t come along every day. That’s why.

I admit I’m reliving my youth. All of the stereotypical behaviors I’ve witnessed from John Hughes’ movies like “Sixteen Candles” and “The Breakfast Club” where teens go through the trials and tribulations of their newfound crushes. I never experienced this with Paula. We just went through the motions. But this girl is putting me through all the feels.

Ava is like pin-up girl material. She’s the beauty queen with a heart of gold. You can’t help but wonder how a dream girl so beautiful could be standing in front of you in the flesh. Giving you her undivided attention. Although she’s definitely the most engaging, articulate woman I’ve had the pleasure to meet, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’ve been thinking about her a little more often without any conversation. Unless the two of us moaning could be counted as meaningful dialogue.

I’ve known Ava for over a year and always felt she was out of my league. Yet, she’s never acted like it. Beyond what she does to me in my fantasies, she’s a beautiful soul. And that fucking spark I feel every time my hand grazes hers isn’t something I’ve ever felt before. If she can make me feel like that with something so small, what else could there be between us?

I really want to make a great impression on her. This lunch date I’ve planned has to be perfect. I’ve made a call to Luigi’s to make sure they have a table ready for us. I know she has a short break, so I’ve ordered ahead. I figure whatever she doesn’t like, I can take home.

Luigi’s is a hometown favorite. It’s a small, locally-owned restaurant with fantastic food and is reasonably priced. I’ve come here since I was a kid and dare anyone to find better authentic Italian food. I asked Luigi if I could have a table in the corner for privacy. After all of the ribbing about ‘a special lady’ was over, he agreed. Now I just need to stop by the office to get Ava.

* * *

As I approach the office, I note Ava’s standing outside the front doors. It suddenly dawns on me that my asking her out isn’t terribly professional, and she may want to limit anyone’s knowledge of our plans. I wouldn’t want to do anything to make her uncomfortable.

“Hi. Have you been waiting long?” I ask.

“Oh, no. I just came out, actually.” She grins up at me. For the first time, I assess she’s probably about five foot ten, comparing her to my six foot three frame. Granted, she’s wearing heels, but I’d bet she’s at least five foot eight or nine barefoot. “I only have about forty-five minutes. I usually only get a thirty-minute break for lunch, but Joanie said she’d cover for me.” I watch as she covers her mouth with her small, delicate hand and giggles.Fuck, I could eat her up.

“Well, let’s head out then. I parked close, knowing we wouldn’t be here long.” I escort her to my Silver Ford Explorer and open the passenger door. She’s dressed in a loose-fitting, pale yellow blouse and a navy blue pencil skirt that falls about mid-calf. There’s a slit in the front of the skirt, which exposes some of her creamy soft skin. I watch as her slender legs curl into the car and have to calm myself.It’s only lunch, man.

We drive the few short miles required to reach Luigi’s, and I ensure she’s okay with Italian.If not, I guess she’s eating a salad.I detect a hint of mint floating between us in the car together and can’t help but notice the effect it has on me. There’s a slight warmth and a tingle in my chest as if I’d just consumed one myself.

“Oh, I love it. And Luigi’s is my favorite.”

Standing a little taller, pride filling my chest, I walk around to her side of the car and open the door for her, gently placing my palm against her lower back. Sparks jolt me again, and I can feel it all the way to my dick. I need to down a tall glass of ice water and get my shit together before I completely embarrass myself.

“Ah, Mick. Good to see you. And who’s the lovely lady?” Luigi greets us as we enter the cozy space.

“Hi, Luigi. This is Ava. She’s apparently a big fan of your food too. Don’t let her size fool you.” Looking at Ava, I notice her eyes are ping-ponging back and forth between Luigi and me. “I’ve been eating here a long time. Luigi and I go way back.”

“Oh, I see.” She giggles.

“Right this way, Mick. I have a very special table ready.” He winks. “I know you’re under a time crunch. Is there something special you’d like to drink?”

“Oh, just water for me, please,” Ava responds.

“Same.” I pull the chair out for her and take a seat at the four-top table. The restaurant is quiet, with only a few other patrons. “I knew you didn’t have much time, so I called ahead and ordered a few of Luigi’s classics. There’s also salad and bread. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay. It’s so thoughtful. Thank you.” She beams.

Luigi brings our water with two servers in tow who present the salads, plates of antipasto, cheese ravioli in marinara sauce, fettuccine alfredo, and penne ala vodka. She’s glowing at the service and the luscious food. Luigi’s for the win! After Ava instructs which entrees she’d like to try, the servers spoon helpings of steaming pasta onto our plates and offer freshly grated cheese before departing.

“Holy cow, this is amazing, Mi-” I notice she stops abruptly, and I lower my fork to assess what’s wrong. “Luigi kept calling you Mick. Is that a nickname, or have I been calling you the wrong name for almost a year, and you’re too polite to correct me?”

“No, Mick’s a nickname. My little sister couldn’t pronounce Michael, and so it stuck. All of my friends and family call me that.”

“You have a little sister? That must be nice.”

“Wasn’t always. The last thing you want is babysitting duty when you’re eleven years old, but she’s a pretty cool kid. I can’t believe she’s driving now.”

“Wow, an eleven-year age gap,” she questions as she takes a bite of ravioli, closes her mouth around her fork, and moans.

There goes my dick again. Focus, Mick. “Yeah, my dad left when I was young. It was just Mom and me for a long time. My mom met Rob when I was nine. He’s a good guy. I’m glad she found him. Anyway, she remarried about seventeen years ago, and Emmaleigh came along a year later.” I take a large bite of pasta and wipe my mouth of any lingering sauce. “How about you? Any siblings?”

---