Page 87 of Curvy Girl Summer

“Earbuds.”

“I… appreciate it. Thank you.” I took the thick plastic package out and held it in my hand. I noticed a QR code. “But what is this for?”

“It’s for you.” He reached over, took them from my hands, and opened it. “They’re so small, you could wear them on the date. Put them in. Scan the code. And then listen.” He handed them back to me. “Guaranteed to calm your nerves and get you out of your head.”

“Ahmad,” I whispered, surprised by the thoughtfulness of the gift. “That’s… Wow, thank you for this.”

He just smiled. “But this”—he pointed to the QR code—“is key. It takes you to a playlist. Everything is slower tempo, so it quiets your mind and releases the stress of the day.”

“How do you know?”

“Actually, my, uh, my therapist put me on. It worked that first time, and I’ve used it ever since.”

“So, you’ve been stress-free since you started?”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t say all that. But it helps. Especially with the heavy shit.”

I searched his face, intrigued by the glimpse of himself he’d just offered me. “Heavy like what?”

He shook his head. “Nah…”

“You’ve had a front-row seat to my dating disasters and then paraded me in front of your best friends as a case study.” I pointed at him. “You owe me a personal story or something.”

He let out an amused grunt. “Okay, you’re right.” He sat back in the booth and stared at me across the table. “The car accident I told you about… a drunk driver ran through a light. Car was totaled, but I survived it, so you know… gotta take the good with the bad.” He forced a smile, but I could still see the incident haunted him. “Life is short.”

My hands went to my chest. “Ahmad, I’m so sorry—”

“Yeah, I appreciate that,” he interrupted. “But don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“Be the same asshole you’ve always been. What happened a couple years ago doesn’t change anything.”

“Damn, I was just saying I’m glad you made it through that!”

“Well, channel that energy into making it through a date.”

My jaw dropped. “Wowwwwwwww… That was a low blow.”

His eyes widened as if he were listening back to his statement. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, you did.”

He laughed. “I really didn’t.”

I playfully glared at him.

“You need a drink?” he wondered, ignoring my glare. “You look like you need a drink.”

He jumped up, went to the bar, and returned a couple of minutes later with two drinks.

“Sweetie’s tea,” he announced, sliding my drink in front of me as he took his seat. “And Omar is going to bring burgers and fries over in a minute. You want to order anything else?”

“I’m good with just the fries for now. Thanks,” I said, bringing the glass to my lips. “Mmm.”

“You like it?”

“Who made this?”

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