Sawyer’s grin turned sly. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in that costume.”
I managed a smile.
“She’s not truly evil though,” I said. “She’s vulnerable too, which is why I like her. But I think it would be nice to maybe not care so much about everything all the time. It’s not always easy being the good guy, especially when being good or nice is so often mistaken for being weak.”
“What do you mean?”
I shook my head. “I’m nice at the spa, I’m nice with the dance troupe, but I can’t seem to do anything right with either group.”
Sawyer scowled. “Why not? Are they being assholes to you?”
“No, just…indifferent.”
His scowl deepened. “I find it hard to believe that anyone could be indifferent where you’re concerned.”
His hand closed around mine, holding on to me just as tightly as I held on to him, and maybe I was weak and cowardly, but it felt too good to let go.
The street around us had changed from rows of old houses to a bustling city. The restaurant, Nopa, was a squat building that looked somewhat plain on the outside, but I could tell even before I saw the menu on the outer wall that it was a ‘nice place,’ as my Grandma Bea would say. The kind where your food didn’t come with a side of vegetables; you had to order them separately.
I turned to Sawyer.
“Hey, how about pizza and a walk along the Pier? And ice cream sundaes after?”
Sawyer’s smile tilted again. “You don’t like the menu…?”
“It looks amazing. But…I don’t want you to spend a lot of money on me.”
“The reservations are made,” he said. “And I told you, I want to. I don’t want to be cheap or…tacky. I want to take you out and have a nice dinner. I want to talk and then maybe take a walk somewhere, and kiss you goodnight at your door, and leave it at that.” He brushed the backs of his fingers down my cheek. “You’re not like any other girl, Darlene. I’m not…indifferent about you.”
I swallowed and blinked hard. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Sawyer.”
“Maybe not, but this is for me too. I’ve never been on a real date, remember?” His charming grin reappeared. “You going to deprive me of the experience?”
I managed a smile. “How could I do that?”
He held the door open for me. “After you.”
The interior of Nopa was industrial chic, with cement floors and elegant booths in gray leather. Amber lights cast a golden hue over the crowds that talked and laughed over pork chops or roasted salmon.
A host ushered us to a table for two, and I sat across from Sawyer, a candle flickering between us. We opened our menus and my stomach dropped. The prices weren’t outrageous but this was definitely a ‘nice’ restaurant. Even the beers were expensive and had eccentric names.
A waiter in a black apron approached us. “Something to drink?”
Sawyer looked to me. “Would you like wine?”
My gaze darted to the wine list and the double-digit—and triple digit—numbers beside the bottles.
“No, thank you,” I said and smiled weakly. “Not a fan.”
Sawyer smiled back. “A Coke with three cherries, maybe?”
“I’ll just have water for now.”
“I’ll have a Death and Taxes Lager,” Sawyer told the waiter. “I don’t think I have a choice.”
“Inevitable,” the waiter agreed, and the two men chuckled at the joke.
Inevitable, I thought. What a horrible word.