Page 67 of The Write Stuff

For some reason, the way he said it suggested he wasn’t just talking about the food. My cheeks started to burn, which made him grin.

“So,” he said, focusing on the menu, probably to give me a chance to recover without embarrassing myself. “You like fried green tomatoes, correct?”

I bobbed my head. “I love them. The ones here are especially good.”

“Okay, we’ll get the fried green tomatoes, PB&J Chicken Wings, and the avocado fries as appetizers.”

My eyes went wide. “That’s a lot of appetizers. Do you just want to do appetizers and no food?”

He made a face. “No. I want to try everything. If we have leftovers, we have leftovers. Some of them we might be able to take to your place and put in the fridge. Others, well, I’m not sure how avocado fries are going to reheat. The wings should be fine, though.”

I leaned closer so only he could hear me. “I think that peanut butter and jelly wings sound gross.”

He leaned closer, so his mouth was inches from mine. “I know, but they’re the kind of gross that might be amazing. I have to try them.”

I nodded. I understood what he was saying. Not knowing was worse than knowing. “Okay.”

“Good.” He took me by surprise when he kissed the tip of my nose. Then he went right back to perusing his menu as if he hadn’t stolen the oxygen from my lungs. What the hell was happening here?

“The fact that they have Kool-Aid on their drinks menu is a huge selling point to me,” he noted as I tried to keep myself from passing out. When his lips had touched my nose, I was certain that I was having a brain aneurysm or something. Even seconds later, I couldn’t make my lungs function properly.

“That means I’m going to start with the Cherry Cola, I think,” he continued, his full attention on his menu. “I’m definitely trying more than one of these drinks, though. I guess it’s good that I thought ahead and Ubered to your place.”

Slowly, my heartbeat returned to normal. Or, well, it was elevated still. How could it not be? It wasn’t in heart attack territory, though. “That was smart,” I agreed, my mind racing. “Lucy is with Hayley tonight, so she won’t be at my apartment.”

The second the words were out of my mouth, I recognized how they probably sounded to him, and I slapped my hand to my forehead. He was going to think I was propositioning him. “Doh!”

I couldn’t look Huxley in the eyes, but I could feel him looking at me. “Doh, huh?” He sounded amused. “Are you a fan of The Simpsons?”

“Not in a really long time,” I replied. “I’m more of a South Park girl.”

“Interesting.” He didn’t sound frazzled as much as amused. “I guess I didn’t realize Hayley and Lucy were already doing overnighters.” He sounded puzzled, so I took a risk and looked at him. “Seems fast,” he mused. The smile he shot me was kind. “I don’t move that fast.”

The panic I’d been feeling began to subside. “You don’t?”

“Not generally,” he replied. “I might have moved that fast back in college, but only because I was convinced that I would somehow get banned from sex for some reason. There was about a year in there where I rushed to have as much sex as possible because I was convinced somehow that somebody would take it away from me.”

The picture he was painting made me laugh. “Seriously?”

He shrugged. “When you’re a teenage boy, you think about sex a good 100 times a day. That’s not an exaggeration. When you finally get to have sex, it feels miraculous. You want to keep doing it in case it ever gets taken away from you.”

I burst out laughing.

“Teenage boys are dumb,” he assured me. “As for this relationship, I think we should take our time and not rush anything.”

“But …” I had to think about what he was saying. Wouldn’t he lose interest if he wasn’t getting sex?

Even though I hadn’t asked that question out loud, he seemed to read my mind. “I will not be pressuring you,” he said. “That’s not who I am. That’s not what this is about.”

My breath escaped in a gusty exhale. “Okay.”

He patted my hand. “When you’re ready, you’re going to tell me.”

Now, pressure of a different kind weighed down on me. “Um …”

“You’re going to tell me.” He was firm. “Now, let’s talk about these entrees.” He was unnaturally calm. “I’ve never considered ordering a pot pie at a restaurant, but I totally want to try this one.”

I was still dazed from what he had said, so I merely nodded. “I’m getting the Grapeful Dead and the Miyagi Beef tacos.”