Page 57 of Loaded

He exhales dramatically.

“When you read on the restaurant’s menu about the dessert, it goes on and on about the fine Louisiana strawberries, the port wine reduction sauce, and the creamiest ice cream.” I point at the desserts I brought. “This one has all of that. Ice cream, strawberries, and a port wine reduction infused with citrus.”

His brow furrows.

“But the famous one came with a massive diamond engagement ring, and for a while it was a pretty famous way to propose if you were, you know, uber rich.”

“Are you trying to send me a message?” He arches one brow.

“No way,” I rush to say. “I just love strawberries, and I’ve always wanted to try this.”

He laughs. “I’m kidding, Bea. Calm down.”

But actually, as I sit there eating ice cream and strawberries, I’m the opposite of calm. For the first time in a very, very long time. . .I’m hopeful. Things in my life are scary, but they’re also exciting.

12

EASTON

ASunday night isn’t the ideal time for a date, but I didn’t want to wait until Monday, and I’m not sure that would really be any better anyway. When the girl you like works nights, you take what you can get.

It took me a while to figure out what to do on our date.

First dates are a lot of pressure when you like the girl—it’s a little like picking appetizers and entrees for someone that you want them to like. But I’m virtually certain I’ll win her over with my plan. I have very little to work with that’s in any way adjacent to the musical realm. I wasn’t kidding when I said I sound like the seagull fromThe Little Mermaid. Honestly, that might be a little generous. He, at least, had moxie.

I do have one single card to play.

I’m thinking the element of surprise will help me, so my text is a little vague. I’LL PICK YOU UP AT 6. WEAR COWBOY BOOTS IF YOU HAVE ANY.

That precipitates a volley of clarification texts from her, all of which I ignore. Where’s the mystery if I tellher via text what we’re doing and why I chose it? No, it’s better if she stews a little. I’ve given her the relevant information. It’ll either go over really well, or it’ll be like the time I tried to rent out her entire area at work.

I’m really hoping for the ‘well’ option. I must be due, right?

I check my clothing at least six times in the mirror before I decide I should text someone. I have no idea what my stylist would say, so I don’t ask her. I text Ace a photo.

OH MY—WHAT ARE YOU WEARING, TEX?

REMEMBER THAT CLASS I TOOK IN UNDERGRAD? I’m hanging all my hopes on the fact that my professor gave me an A, and now that I’m almost out of time to even change clothes, I’m starting to panic.

Ace calls me. “What are you doing right now?”

“She agreed to let me take her out,” I say.

As my best friend, Ace was the first person I told when I met Bea. “Took her long enough.”

“Things that are worth it take effort.”

“So you keep telling me,” Ace says. “But I prefer easy conquests.” Some girl’s laughing next to him.

“You don’t say.” I snort. “But listen, do I look okay? Ask your date.”

“She wants to know how rich you are,” Ace says.

I hang up. Clearly any advice he gives me won’t be any good. “Okay,” I say to myself in the mirror. “It’s going to be fine. She agreed to go out with you, and if nothing else, she’ll see that you put effort into this.”

Right? Probably.

I give a lot of thought to which car to pick her up in. I could use the 4Runner again. She seemed surprised, but she knows about it. She probably drives something a waitress can afford, but I’m absolutely positive herbrother Jake drives something expensive. I know Emerson doesn’t care much about cars, so I’m wondering whether she’ll like a more expensive car or be repulsed by it.

---