Page 67 of The Disasters of Dating
Poppy
Hmm. Maybe? Are you thinking about grabbing dinner up here or down there?
I grin at her directions. I’ve not completely figured out what constitutes up and down for her. I think it might be as much topography as direction that dictates it.
Up there would probably be better. Then we don’t have to worry about traffic.
The dots dance on her side of the conversation. I can see in my mind her biting her bottom lip as she decides the best plan. I love watching her make decisions. It’s like her whole face gets in on the action, and it’s completely adorable.
Poppy
Okay. I’ll pick you up at 5:45? We’ll grab dinner, and then if we have extra time, we can see some downtown sites. You are a visitor, after all.
I laugh out loud. Maybe I’ll get an apartment. What would she say then? Would that make me a local in her eyes? And if I were, does that mean we could be more than ‘friends’? Because I’m pretty sure I want that.
I can’t wait!
Poppy
Does she love my comment, or is there more to that heart emoji? Dang! I wish I knew the intricacies of the emoji language!
We park in a parking structure that is not at the stadium. I saw the stadium from a distance. But that is it. “Are we walking the rest of the way?” I ask. I’m normally not opposed to getting a little exercise. But had I known we would hoof it, I probably would not have eaten so much…or at least said no to the ice cream. (Just kidding. I don’t say no to ice cream. I said I was going to get fat if I wasn’t careful. Remember?) But it had seemed a good idea as we strolled through the gardens on Temple Square. Gardens and ice cream go hand in hand, right?
My other hesitation is that we’ll walk back to the car in the early morning hours. I’ve not spent any time in Salt Lake City. Is that even safe?
She pats my arm. “No, don’t worry. We’ll catch a shuttle and ride it to the stadium.”
I release a sigh, but try to hide it with a scoff. “I’m not worried.”
She tilts her head to the side and gives me a side eye look. “Are you sure you’re not worried?”
I shake my head. “No way.” I release a breath. “I’m full, and the thought of walking a long way made my stomach gurgle.”
She laughs. “Then I’d think you’d want a long walk.”
“Maybe once the food is good and settled. But that hasn’t happened yet. Maybe we can walk back after the game?” Could she hear the concern in my voice?
She lifts a shoulder. “Maybe.” But then she tsks. “It’s too bad you aren’t worried. I was going to let you hold my hand so you’d feel better. But if it’s just that you’re full…” She leaves the sentence hanging.
I give a full-body shudder. “Oh, you found me out, I’m actually very worried. I have no idea how safe the streets of Salt Lake are.” I make it sound like I’m kidding, though I’m not. I reach for her hand. “I’m going to need the calming presence of your hand.”
She laughs and intertwines her fingers with mine. “It’s okay, you big scaredy cat. I’ve got you.” Then she curls her other fingers around my bicep. Oh, wow. Walking now seems like a dream. Who needs a shuttle bus anyhow? “Did I say I didn’t want to walk? I think I’ve changed my mind.”
She grins up at me. She’s wearing her flared-out jeans and a red and white tie-dye University of Utah shirt. Her hair, which usually hangs down her back with dozens of little braids, is in one braid that encircles her head and rests over her shoulder. It’s like what she did after our horrendous first dinner. Although I’m thinking of it less and less in that way. After all, it was part of what got us to this point, right? I don’tthink there’s a single part of that day that I would change, because if I did, it might alter where we are now. And I’m not willing to risk that.
“The streets of Salt Lake are pretty safe. But it’s like any other bigger-sized city. It has areas that are not safe. But if it’s all the same to you, I think I’d rather take the shuttle.”
“Your wish is my command.” Almost as if I’d summoned it, the shuttle bus pulls to a stop in front of us.
We climb on and settle into some seats about halfway back. We both watch out the window as we drive—it’s not as far as I thought—to the stadium. It would probably have taken us way less time to walk because of all the stops the bus has to make. But we have plenty of time before the game starts.
Finally, we pull up to the stadium entrance, and the whole busload of people file off. I reach over and grab Poppy’s hand. If she asks, I’ll say it’s so we don’t get separated in this crowd.
She doesn’t pull it away or look at me funny, so I guess she’s okay with it.
The stadium employees scan our tickets and give us directions to our seats.
Poppy grins up at me. “Should we stop by the concessions first? Or go to our seats?”
