Heartless (9 page)

“Exactly, Libras like pretty things, aesthetics,” I said, blushing at the compliment. I was glad I made an extra effort to get dressed up tonight. It did seem to make an impression on Josh.

“But it’s not like I care about tons of superficial stuff.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. Libras appreciate beauty but they are also very social; relationships matter a lot to them.”

“Yes they do.” He took his hand off the wheel and put in on my knee. I flinched and sucked in my breath as he squeezed it lightly.

He lifted his hand off my knee, giving me a quick glance before focusing on the road again. “Is that not okay?”

I heard the worry in his voice. I exhaled slowly.

“No. I mean, yes. Sorry, it’s just me.” I smoothed out my skirt over my knees. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

He frowned at the traffic but I’m pretty sure it was my reaction that caused his frustration.

I really didn’t want to mess this up tonight. His touch really did surprise me, particularly because it felt like an electric shock right up my groin. I knew I needed to loosen up but I was nervous.

“I haven’t dated in a while,” I said. “I forget the moves.” Not like I really had any in 10th grade, but it sounded plausible enough.

“I wasn’t really ‘making a move’, Heather. It was just a spontaneous gesture.” He sounded defensive now.

“Sorry, bad choice of words. That’s not what I meant.”

“You’ve said ‘sorry’ twice in the last two minutes. You have nothing to apologize for. If you don’t want me to touch you, that’s fine. It’s okay to just be yourself.”

But Josh didn’t know that I had no clue who that was. I checked in with beach-girl. Her advice:
tell him it’s okay to touch you
.

Somehow, I thought that might get me into trouble, so I modifed a bit.

“I’m not sure why I flinched when you touched my knee. I liked it. Of course, it’s okay for you to touch me. But for tonight, maybe you could give me a little warning first? I need to take it slow, get used to things.”

Josh nodded, a gentle smile spreading across his clean-shaven chin. “I can do that.”

I wasn’t sure if my weird flinchiness was going to make the rest of the evening awkward. For all I knew, Josh had now decided that this is our first and last date. Obviously, he could have been having so much more fun with someone else. He was confident, good looking, playful, and sexy. So out of my league. I didn’t know if I would ever catch up. I decided to make a real effort to make this one night memorable, at least for me. It was my first date in three years and it might be my last for three more. I promised myself to put my best ‘fake’ foot forward.

Josh cleared his throat and said, “So now that you know my birthday you seem to know everything about me. What about you. What’s your sign? Oh golly, I can’t believe I just uttered that cliché line to a girl.”

I started laughing “Did you just say ‘golly’?!”

“Uh, was that out loud?” He quirked up an eyebrow. “Damn! Thing is, I don’t say the other G word. My mother drilled it out of me years ago.”

“Because she thought it was blasphemy?” Oops, that just kind of slipped out and I didn’t really want the conversation to go in this direction.

But now Josh was laughing. “Not exactly. More like the word, and all ideas associated it, were banished from our home. We are devoted atheists. Although, I’m leaning toward Fatalism now. My mom’s not sure what to make of that.”

A part of me wanted to scream Oh My God right now. This was one more thing we had in common, thank goodness.

Josh seemed to misinterpret my silence. “Did I offend you?”

“No, no.” I shook my head making my curls swing. I was smiling, too, and a few strands got stuck on my lips gloss and teeth. As I was pulling them away I said, “I’m an atheist, too.” I didn’t mention I’m only a beginner. Just three years.

“An atheist who believes in astrology.”

“Plus an atheist who believes in Fate… Equals what?”

He slowed down and pulled up to the curb where a valet waited.

“Equals….” He was thinking as he turned off the car. The valet moved to open my door but I wanted to hear Josh’s answer before we got out. “Equals two people whose stars have cosmically aligned for a purpose greater than either them knows.
Yet
.”

He gave me a look that was like flint sparking my soul. I sucked in my breath. Was I ready for this?

The interior of Brazzo’s was modern and funky. Steel, chrome, black and shiny wood veneer provided a masculine backdrop to the space but the details were more feminine: certain walls were painted a deep pinky red, the black chairs had seats covered with various shades of velvet, the simply designed chandeliers gave off a soft glow, except around the busy well-lit kitchen, which was half open to allow the patrons to see some of the behind-the-scenes work. The space was open-plan but multi-level in the sense that 2 or 3 stairs led up or down to different sections divided by half-wall partitions. Some areas had couches and covered footstools arranged around a long low coffee table. The buzz was lively, the visuals eclectic, the mood playful and… sexy, something I hadn’t been all that familiar with these last few years. Despite all that was going in this space—the chatter, the service, the bar banter, the music, the kitchen activity—it wasn’t unbearably loud, especially where we were seated at a corner table, slightly raised, so we had a nice view of the whole place. Our table was square, and at an angle, so we sat perpendicular to each other rather than directly across. We were sitting close enough to play footsie
and
hold hands under the table. Not that I was planning anything like that.

After Josh tucked me in to my seat, the hostess handed him a wine list along with our menus. He flipped it open.

“How old are you,” I whispered.

“I’ll be twenty two on my next birthday. And now you know when that is.” He winked and looked back at the wine list for a minute before looking up at me again. “But I don’t know yours. We didn’t get to that in the car.” He lifted his eyebrows waiting for the information.

“Mid July,” I muttered. Even more quietly, I added, “Then I’ll be twenty.” I look down at my hands. Josh might not want to date someone who couldn’t legally drink.

“Do you mind if I order wine for the both of us? I don’t think they’re going to ask for ID.”

“Really?” I was such an innocent. “I don’t drink much. Only at holidays.”

“Then let’s just each have a glass. Since I’m driving. White or red?”

I smiled. “Shouldn’t I decide what to eat first?”

He shrugged. “However you like. I’m going to have red. Kenny has a really nice Cabernet on his list.”

Josh was barely two years older than I was. How did he know about wine already? I knew it came in white, red, bubbly, and pink, which you were supposed to call rosé, and I’d only learned that much since living with Marsha and Wayne. We didn’t have wine often, since it wasn’t recommended with some of my medications, but indulging once in a while was fine. Like tonight. Tonight was pretty special.

Josh was still looking at the wine list. “If you decide on white, I’d recommend the Oyster Bay Sauvignon Blanc.”

So-vee what?

“Unless you’d prefer Californian?” He looked up at me to gauge my preference, which I didn’t know enough to have. From the time my mom joined Pastor Guthrie’s church, wine—all alcohol—was forbidden in our house.

“Why don’t I have the same as you, since you seem to know what you’re talking about.”

Josh looked down at the table cloth, seemingly embarrassed. He glanced back to me. “It’s not because I drink a lot. It’s my mom. When I was young she mostly waited tables to support us, but when I got a little more independent, and got my own part time job when I was 14, she took her sommelier certificate. I helped her study and picked up a lot through osmosis.”

“You’re mom sounds pretty cool.”

He nodded, a sweet and loving smile triggering the dimple in his cheek, the one I noticed the first day I met him. “She’s my hero.”

I think that was the nicest thing I’d ever heard a guy say about his mother. With my elbow on the table I propped my chin in my hand and just stared at Josh. His eyes weren’t as strikingly blue in the dim light, but the cast of the candle flickering on the table made his eyelashes seem longer and thicker.

“What?” he said, taking a sip of his water. Did my sudden unguarded admiration of him make him nervous? I sat up a little straighter.

“Nothing.”

“What was your mom like?” he asked.

My throat tightened. “Not my hero.”

Thankfully, I didn’t have to say more as the waiter arrived and took our wine and dinner order.

Josh

Heather doesn’t like to talk about her parents. I wonder if I’ll ever find out how they died? From what I can tell, she doesn’t like delving into her past at all. I know past trauma can have that affect on people, but so often it’s about denial, and it’s not healthy. But I’m not here to fix her. She’ll tell me what she’s comfortable telling me. Eventually, maybe she’ll get comfortable enough to tell me the whole truth about herself. It kind of scares me how much I want to know everything about her, and seriously, not just what she looks like naked, though that would be a dream come true when
or if
that ever happens. At the moment, she jumps when I touch her. What is that about? I haven’t done anything to make her scared of me. I guess she’s just scared naturally. Or unnaturally. Maybe that’s part of the trauma too. I wonder now if someone in her past hurt her, if there’s more to her story than the sudden death of her parents.

Her life seems pretty good now. I haven’t met Marsha and Wayne, but they have a great home, and Leo says they’re nice people. At least they pay on time and don’t gripe and I imagine they also indulge his ego and call him Leonardo, too. So long as Leo gets treated like an artist and paid like architect, he’s happy. Oh, and he’s got to be respected as a boss, which he gave me an earful about last week. I’ll have to talk to Heather about that. I think I made her worry about our date tonight because I kept a low profile these last couple of mornings.

Honestly, I just want to get through this first date. If the first date is near perfect, a lot more doors can open. I have plans, and not just the naked ones. I’m a bit freaked at how connected I feel to this girl.

I hope I didn’t fuck things up going on about wine, though I’m glad I told her a bit about my mom. I think Heather would like my mom. Jesus H double toothpicks! Am I so whipped already that I’m ready to take her home and introduce her to my mother? Oh boy. I look up and see our waiter carrying a tray with two wine glasses. I am so ready for that first sip.

Heather

Josh’s friend Ken (or rather, Kenny and Josh was Josh-man) came over to our table after the wine and bread was served. They did the man hug’n’hand-shake thing and then Josh introduced me.

“Kenny, meet my beautiful new …friend, Heather. Heather, meet my old, ugly, son of a B buddy, Ken Brazzo.”

Ken rolled his eyes and said, “He’s never forgiven me since I beat him at chess. I keep giving him a chance to redeem himself but he says bikers don’t play chess.”

“I never said that! You don’t even know
how
to play chess.”