Page 111 of Dating and Other Theories
At exactly seven o’clock, Esther let herself out of her apartment and locked it behind her. Her stomach was roiling like a ship on the high seas. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been this nervous before, not even when she’d defended her thesis.
Last night, when she’d left Jonathan’s apartment, she’d desperately wanted to kiss him, and he’d almost looked like he’d wanted to kiss her too. But as soon as she’d started to lean in, he’d turned his head away.
Her pride was still a little scorched from the burn. She couldn’t blame him for not trusting her though. Obviously, she still had some work to do to win him back. That was fine. She was willing to do whatever it took to earn his trust again. That was the whole point of going on this date tonight. To show him how invested she was in rebuilding their relationship.
She wondered if he’d let her kiss him tonight. God, she hoped so.
As she walked the twelve feet to Jonathan’s door, her heels rang out like gunshots on the cement surface of the breezeway, which did nothing to calm her nerves. He must have heard her coming—the entire building had probably heard her coming—because his door opened before she could knock.
“Hi,” he said, smiling sheepishly.
Her heart swelled at the sight of him. She hadn’t seen him in almost twenty-four hours, and she’d missed him. The last few weeks without him had been torment. Now that she was allowed to be around him again, she was starving for more. It was like setting a piece of chocolate cake in front of someone on a Whole30 diet. Her mouth was actually watering, she wanted him so bad.
“Hi,” she said, smiling back at him. Her heels put her a little closer to his level, but she still had to look up to see his face. “You look nice.”
His hair had been tamed with product, and he was wearing a striped button-down, slim gray pants, and the same ankle boots he’d worn to the party. He was Date Jonathan tonight. She loved Date Jonathan.
“You look nice too.” His eyes remained disconcertingly focused on her face, ignoring her cleavage. What an inopportune time for him to be gentlemanly.
He had his keys in his hand, and they jangled as he flipped them around his index finger. “What’s the plan? Do you want me to drive?”
“Nope, tonight I’m wooing you. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy yourself.”
He smiled a little wider. “Okay.”
Esther waited while he locked his door, and they set off down the hall to the stairwell. He didn’t try to hold her hand, so she didn’t try to hold his either. Even though she wanted to.
But when they got to the stairs, and she started teetering down the steps in her heels, he offered his hand to steady her. “Thank you,” she said, clutching it gratefully.
As soon as they got to the bottom, he let go of her hand again. Damn.
Esther unlocked her car, and they got in. It was the first time he’d been in her car, and he had to slide the passenger seat all the way back to make room for his legs. She briefly wished she’d had time to get it cleaned, but then she remembered the trash pile that was the interior of his car and decided he wouldn’t care about a little dust on the dashboard.
“Where are we going?” he asked as he buckled his seat belt.
Esther checked her mirrors and backed out of the carport. “Dinner and movie. Actually, a movie and then dinner, because the movie’s at seven thirty.”
“What movie?”
Her mouth curved into a grin. “It’s a surprise.” Blood Simple was playing at one of LA’s vintage cinemas tonight. As soon as she’d seen the listing, she knew it was where she had to take him.
“Intriguing.”
“You’ll like it, don’t worry.”
“I have no doubt of that.” When she glanced over at him, he was smiling. So far, so good.
Esther had the night all planned out. Blood Simple at the old Aero Theatre at seven thirty, followed by dinner at a popular Santa Monica restaurant down the block. It was perfect.
It would have been perfect, anyway, except there was an accident on the freeway, which she’d only taken because Yemi was always telling her how much faster it was. Only it wasn’t faster when the two right lanes were closed because of a fender bender. They crept along, alternating between a dead stop and short bursts of movement reaching almost five whole miles an hour. As the minutes ticked away, Esther became increasingly anxious.
“We’re going to be late,” she said, squeezing the steering wheel so hard her fingers started to go numb. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Jonathan said. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. We’re going to miss the beginning of the movie.”
He reached over the console and laid his hand on her leg, squeezing gently. “I don’t care about the movie.”
