We stare at one another, in a stalemate, and then we both laugh at how we sound which lessens the tension a little bit.
“So will you go out with me again?”
My brows pinch as I look at him.
“There’s a holiday party next weekend. Be my date. It’s a costume party. It’ll be fun.”
Go out with him again? Was tonight really a date? He’d said such a thing to his brother and sister, but I didn’t think he was serious. We were only old friends attending a high school football game together. Then again, what we just did says more than friends. Maybe it was just another reunion. A reminder of how good we were together. A reminiscence of what we had.
Why do I feel eighteen again?
I had no idea. I didn’t know how he felt about me back then. He liked me, sure. We had fun discovering one another. But was it more than a summer fling before college?
I doubt it. At least for him.
“I don’t know what I’d wear.” I tug on my winter jacket and fix my scarf around my neck.
Zebb snaps up his jacket. “You’ll have a whole week to figure something out. Say yes.”
Was I really doing this?
“Okay,” I whisper, chewing my lip.
A new question arises.
Why does going on a second date with Zebb feel more like a second chance with him?
THE PARTY
4
He’d called me angel.
After our late return to the game, Zebb had us stand near the sideline fence instead of returning to our seats. I stood in front of him, and he wrapped his arms around me to keep me warm. When Immaculate Academy won, we hung around until Zebb could congratulate his nephew. On the two-hour ride home, I’d fallen asleep leaning on his arm.
“You’re home, angel,”he’d said to me.
I blinked awake, dazed and confused. I’d been having this dream where he hadn’t left that summer. Or at least we hadn’t lost touch and I’d been beside him through his NFL career. Not that I wanted the fame or fortune, but just to stand by his side.
Or maybe I wanted him by mine.
When the following Saturday arrives, I have a costume although I’m nervous. He’d given me the idea without knowing it. The item had been in the back of my closet for years and I wasn’t even certain it would still fit. I couldn’t remember if it was from college or my twenties, but I hadn’t been able to part with the costume for some reason.
“You’re an angel.” The corner of his mouth crooks up in a smile and his gaze is warm and direct when I open my door. I live in a one-bedroom condo. A large island separates the galley kitchen from the living space. The layout is pretty simplistic.
“I’m an angel,” I confirm, tugging at the side of the flowy white dress. Then I spin so he can take in my wings. The wiring within them was a little bent but I was able to re-shape most of the kinks. The outfit looks strangely like the angel in the 1988 movieScrooged.
“And who are you?” Before me stands a handsome man wearing a dark green robe with thick fake fur up the front and around the collar. A rope belt is tied around his waist while he wears a wreath on his head.
“I’m the Ghost of Christmas Present.”
Slowly, his costume makes sense as well as feeling prophetic. I can’t believe I’m going to a work party with him. Wasn’t this something someone did after dating for years, not as a second date?
Zebb does a quick eyeball sweep of my place and smiles at the bouquet of red tulips in a vase beside my reading chair. Sunday morning the arrangement arrived with a green ribbon around the stems. He’d double checked the meaning of tulips after I told him about poinsettias. A new card was attached.
Tulips because my two lips want yours.
He was so cheesy.