Page 19 of The Last Date

As soon as I flopped on Sarah’s downstairs couch, I saw that the wine had already been poured, and our usual chips and guacamole were waiting on the coffee table.

“This is amazing, thank you,” I said.

“My mom insisted,” she laughed. “I told her that I was your first non-set up date in a long time, and she thought we should make it an occasion.”

“I love your mom,” I grinned, taking a sip of the crisp Pinot Grigio.

Sarah followed suit, then smiled. “She does have good taste in wine.”

“What are we watching?” I asked.

“No idea.” She scrolled through a bunch of channels, then through the streaming shows.

We eventually settled on a romantic comedy that looked like pop trash, but had an actor we both liked.

“Hey,” Sarah said, hitting pause ten seconds into the movie. “First you have to tell me about your guy. How is Oakley?”

I immediately started giggling with my hand over my mouth.

“Oh my God,” she laughed with me. “You’ve got it bad, girl.”

“I really do,” I said, trying to regain some composure.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to dig up the last name yet. My mom’s on her laptop constantly. We’ll find him sooner or later,” Sarah said.

“He showed up at the gallery to walk me home the other night.”

Sarah’s eyes grew wide as she turned toward me, taking her bright ha

ir behind her ears. “That’s a long walk. Really?”

“Yes. He brought me sneakers so that my feet wouldn’t hurt.”

“Oh my God,” she said, clutching her heart. Then her fingers began fluttering over her gold necklace. Her charm looked like a cabbage leaf, but she said it was gingko or something for good luck. “You know, I don’t even know him, but I’m getting a good feeling about him.”

“Me too,” I agreed. “It’s strange and intense, and this whole dating without really dating thing is driving me insane. But it’s also the most exciting, romantic thing I’ve ever heard of.”

Sarah’s eyes lit up, but in the middle of her, “Aww,” noise, her mother called down the stairs. “Sarah, there’s a call for you on the main line.”

She shot me a look. “Who would call for me and not use my cell?” She got up and went to the phone on the far coffee table.

“Hello?” Her eyes grew huge as she turned to stare at me with her mouth open. “Sure. Okay. It’s 479 Barclay Avenue, and you could just come around to the back sliding door. We’re in the basement.” She nodded, then hung up the phone.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, turning toward the screen and grabbing the remote.

Not ten minutes later, we had just gotten into the cheesy intro when there was a soft tap at the glass. Sarah paused the movie and jumped up in a flash, flinging first the curtain open, then the door.

“Come on in,” she said.

I turned to see Oakley ducking his head around a hanging plant on the way in. He was carrying a huge bag and grinning like the devil himself.

Blinking stupidly, I stood up and walked toward him without even realizing I was moving. “Are you for real?” I asked.

“No, baby,” he said, brushing his lips against my forehead. That simple touch created tingles deep in my core. “I’m a dream. Your dream guy. Remember?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

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