Except driving isn’t the time to tackle a Big Topic. Maybe later? After the party? We do have to return to Los Angeles tonight. Rachel’s dog sitting Gigi this evening, and I need to swing by and pick up my girl. But I could ask Gabe to spend one more night with me, then maybe ask for more…
But his smile burns off as he asks, “Because of the call?”
Huh. What? “What do you mean?” I ask.
“You’re fired up because of that call,” he clarifies.
Um. Yeah.
And maybe he wasn’t thinking aboutus. Maybe he was just being a good guy, asking questions, showing an interest.
Stay grounded, Ellie.Take your time. You have the whole night. You have the drive home to sort through this storm of feelings.
I fight off my romantic fantasies and stick to brass tacks. “Absolutely, it was a great week, and I feel super relieved that I’ve decided what to do aboutFabio’s List. The interview’s been weighing on me.”
“Hmm,” he murmurs, like he’s weighing the interview too. I steal a quick glance at the passenger. His jaw is set tight, his gaze staring straight ahead. Something’s on his mind, and I wish I knew what. Several seconds later, he says, “Got it. Makes sense. That was a big moment then with the whole…moving on.”
“Yes,” I say, relieved at last. Finally, we’re on the same wavelength again. The one where we talk freely about work and the past and changes. The one where he understands what I’m trying to do with my life here in Los Angeles. Maybe this is a big moment for us too—where we connect over the way we understand each other. “And life’s big moments call for songs.”
He arches a brow, then like he’s maybe resetting from a few seconds ago, he nods. “I’m down with that. So you want a tune to celebrate your whole new life here and all?”
Yes, he gets me. “That sounds perfect. But what about you? Do you have a celebration song?”
“Sure. When I score a touchdown at home, The Mercenaries play Stone Zenith’s ‘He’s One Badass Dude.’”
I crack up. “You do know Stone wrote that about his husband?”
Gabe scoffs. “And his hubsisa badass dude. And so am I.”
“Fair point.”
Gabe pats the dashboard. “What’s your tune? Let’s blast it.”
“Ten-Speed Rabbit’s ‘I Got This,’” I say. A great song by a fabulous English group.
“I don’t know that song or the band,” he says.
“Allow me to introduce you, then. The lead singer was my friend Veronica’s first client, so I gotta support my girls. ‘I Got This’is definitely my walk-up song. It’s the ultimate girl-power tune.” I point to my phone, excited to share something I love with him, like the bedtime story the other night. “Playlist two.”
He hits the song. The lyrics blast through the air, lifting me higher.Don’t worry about me,Doing it my way, My girls and me, We’ve got a plan.
He turns introspective.
“Sing with me,” I urge as I rock out to the tune’s epic chorus that my friends and I know by our karaoke hearts.I’ve got this, I’ve got this.
But he flashes me a brief smile, then returns to watching the houses pass by. I try to keep the mood upbeat, belting out the anthem as we go.
As the closing notes fade, we pull up to my parents’ home. I feel energized again, from the song, from the conversation, from the possibility of talking to him tonight. On the ride home perhaps. Or maybe at my house. I’ll use this time at the party to sift through my feelings and figure out what to say exactly.
When I cut the engine, I stare at the two-story white house with green shutters and planters bursting with flowers.
Whoa.
Butterflies flap in my chest then crawl up my throat.
I’m going into my childhood home with the guy down the street. This is so surreal. This was my high school fantasy.
Now it’s my reality. But…not really. It’s still just a dating challenge until I tell him my heart.