Page 27 of Like Home
“Summer, no. Let me drive us,” I say, pulling her to a stop at the driver's side door before she can get in. She still hasn’t let go of my hand and I’m taking full advantage.
“Nope,” she says, popping thep. “We agreed that I would take you out as a thank you for helping me with the leak and painting.” She pokes me in the chest and I capture her hand there, wondering if she can feel my pulse pounding for her under her palm.
“Fine,” I say, considering my next words, “But I get to drive youandpay next time.” I gauge her reaction to my thinly-veiled attempt to ask her on another date.
She shrugs, a small smile on her face when she gently pushes me back with the hand on my chest. “Fine.” She ducks into her car while I process the fact that she just accepted another date with me. I can’t help the grin that breaks over my face as I round the car and hop into the passenger seat. She tosses her bag on my lap as I buckle my seatbelt. I let out anoofwhen it punches me in the stomach on the way down.
“Jesus, Summer. What the hell are you carrying in this thing?” I heft the offending bag. It must weigh at least ten pounds.
“My very necessary things!” she retorts, pulling out of her garage.
“Oh my god. There’s a book in here isn’t there?”
“Maybe,” she replies evasively.
“Who are you, Rory Gilmore?” I ask, setting the bag between my feet.
“What?” She looks at me, confused.
“Rory? You know, fromGilmore Girls? She’s always carrying a book around.”
“I know who she is. It’s my favorite show of all time. How doyouknow who she is?” She gasps theatrically and says, “Youarestalking me aren’t you?”
“My mom and sister love the show. I was subjected to it every fall,” I say defensively, “They had the DVDs beforeNetflix was a thing and would binge it on the weekends every year starting in September.” I shrug.
“Dean, Jess, or Logan?” she demands.
I sense this is an important question, so I think for a bit before I reply, “It depends on where she is in her life. Jess was good for young Rory but Logan fits her more as an adult. Dean is trash.”
She hums her agreement, then says, “You passed.”
I try not to preen while I watch the sky paint itself pink and purple through the windshield, rubbing my thumb across my lips to hide my smile.
We get seated at a table in the back of the small restaurant. I pull out her chair before rounding to my side and getting seated. To the left of us is a giant mural of the Italian countryside painted along the whole wall. Servers in white polo shirts bustle around carrying steaming plates and giant menus. It’s a busy night, so the air hums with multiple conversations and the clatter of silverware.
“So,” she says, sipping her wine after we’ve ordered, “If I remember correctly, you wanted more details fromGhosted.”She levels me with a playful smile as she whips the book out of her bag. I can see there are a few tabbed pages.
“You’re going to give me those details here?” I ask incredulously, looking around. There’s a cute old couple at the next table holding hands and chatting over their shared plate of mozzarella sticks.
She moves to the chair next to me and leans in closer, “Don’t be a prude, Ryan. No one will even hear us. It’s so loud in here.” I think she’s going to hand me the book, but to my horror and amusement, she opens it herself and begins to read, her voice taking on an over-exaggerated sultry quality, “‘Rae felt Dean before she saw him. He appeared in front of her, completely naked.Her pupils dilated as she took in his mouthwatering, bare chest, which was peppered with tattoos,’”
I interrupt her, “Wait. Do you think ghosts can get dressed and undressed? Where do their clothes go?”
“Shh,” she scolds, “We’re not going for realism here. Now listen, ‘Dean reached out and touched her cheek. Even though she couldn’t feel it fully, she could sense his hand there. “Clothes off,” he demanded and stepped back to watch her strip for him…’”Summer proceeds to read me a very detailed scene that will make me side-eye anyone reading a book with a cutesy cover from now on. My jeans suddenly feel a little too tight. Hearing Summer read such erotic words in her raspy voice is almost too much to take.
Just as Summer winds down the passage, our server swings by and sets our food on the table. While I’m cursing the interruption, it’s probably for the best. My blood needs to be redirected back to my vital organs. “Thank you,” Summer says demurely to the server as if she wasn’t just reading a sex scene aloud in this crowded restaurant.
I stare blankly at the meal in front of me, blinking a few times to come back down to Earth. “Jeez, Summer. Warn a guy next time you plan to do that. Now I’m all hot and bothered and I haven’t even taken a bite of my arrabbiata yet.” She laughs evilly and stows the book away in her bag. Maybe I should start reading.
We dig in, and I have to admit itispretty good, and my Nonnaprobably won’t be rolling over in her grave anytime soon. When I’m halfway through my arrabbiata, Summer surprises me by placing a hand over mine. I set my fork down and look at her, noting the nervous lines of her face. “Ryan, I want to talk to you about something,” she says, meeting my eye, cheeks burning.
“Sure. What’s up?” I ask, feeling her nerves invade me.
She takes a quick breath in before saying, “I know I’ve been sending you mixed signals, and I’m sorry about that. Everything is still so fresh, and I wasn’t expecting to find you—” Hercheeks flush, but she continues. “Anyway. I know we’re just getting to know each other, but I wanted to let you know that I’m open to seeing where things go, if you are. And, I don’t know, maybe I’m misreading things and this will be an embarrassing story we can look back on and laugh at later.” She drops her gaze and fiddles with the napkin on her lap.
“So, you feel this intense pull, too?” I ask, feeling equal parts relieved and elated. I don’t like that she feels any sort of ambiguity on my end. It’s time to clear that up.
Her shoulders relax and she smiles shyly at me, “I do. I thought I was going crazy. I thought I was reading into things too much.”
