by Parker, Ali
“Sexy?” Grace asked.
“Charming?” Julie chimed in.
“Did we say rich?” Grace asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Stop it.”
I had nothing against going out and enjoying myself with Walker this evening, but I wasn’t going to let my imagination run wild with ideas of this being anything more than an apology date. I’d only agreed to go to make it up to him for behaving like such a child in his gallery. Sure, the fact that he had money was nice, and I’d enjoy it if he wanted to splurge on me and our date, and maybe it might last more than a night, but when it was all said and done and I had enough money in my bank account, I’d be getting the hell out of Dodge.
Grace and Julie followed hot on my heels as I left my bedroom and made my way downstairs to the living room, where I poured myself a shot of vodka to take the edge off.
“You are nervous,” Grace accused.
I licked my lips after polishing off the ounce of liquor. “I haven’t been on an official date in a long time. The last date I had was with a guy named Pietro and neither of us even thought it was a date until we ended up on a beach at sunrise in Spain.”
Julie sighed dreamily and rested one elbow on the kitchen island so she could press her cheek into her palm. “I envy how much traveling you’ve done. I did the opposite. I went to college as soon as I graduated high school.”
“Different strokes for different folks.” I rinsed my shot glass in the sink.
“True,” Julie said. “But sometimes I feel like I missed out.”
“It’s never too late, Julie,” I told her. “You get vacation days, right? Book a trip. Go somewhere. Anywhere. A week is better than no time at all.”
The heels of my shoes clicked across the laminate floors as I went to the front door and grabbed my flannel-lined denim jacket from the hook. I shrugged into it and ignored Grace’s disapproving look. It wasn’t a glamorous jacket by any means but it was comfortable and warm and it was a cold night.
Walker would be there any minute.
He’d texted me that afternoon to ask for my address, and after my reply, he’d told me he would be at my townhouse at seven o’clock sharp. The clock hanging above our fireplace rested at five minutes to seven.
My stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation that I resented.
I didn’t get nervous, especially not over dumb boys.
In an attempt to distract myself, I turned back to my roommates. “How are you two going to spend the night?”
Grace shrugged. “I don’t know. Order some food and watch a rom-com on Netflix?”
“I could get down with that,” Julie said.
“We’ll probably spend a good chunk of time talking about how jealous we are of you,” my cousin said.
I smiled at Grace. “And I’ll tell Walker how jealous I am of you two that you’re lounging on a sofa in stretchy waistband pants while I’m wearing fucking nylons.”
Julie snickered.
Grace did not. “Do you think he’d notice if I went on the date with him instead of you?”
“Probably,” Julie said, “because you’re actually nice.”
Her comment caught me off guard.
It seemed to catch Julie by surprise too, even though she was the one who’d said it. She slapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes widened. “Sorry, Nora, that was rude.”
Grace snorted. “Nora is rude.”
“I am,” I said. “I thought it was kind of funny.”
I wasn’t lying. I respected when someone could take a good dig at me. She got extra points for spontaneity and accuracy.
A car alarm beeped outside, and my heartbeat tripled in speed.
“Is that him?” Julie asked, brushing past me to press her eye to the peephole in the door. She bounced three times on the balls of her feet. “It is. He’s coming up the steps.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I hissed.
Grace fixed my jacket and handed me my purse. “So you are nervous.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
She smiled. “You’ll do fine. Just have fun, okay? I can’t wait to hear all about it when you get home. Julie and I will wait up.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
I could do this.
Right?
Julie stepped back from the door as a knock sounded on the other side. My stomach rolled over and the tips of my fingers began to tingle. For someone who’d been telling herself all afternoon that she didn’t care about a date with a successful, well-known, established artist, this sure felt a lot like caring.
Grace and Julie retreated into the kitchen where they giggled amongst themselves as they poured glasses of wine from an already opened bottle. I bucked up and unlocked the door. It swung inward and I smiled up at Walker, who stood on the threshold looking like he’d just stepped off stage from a rock concert. He wore a casual black leather jacket, black jeans, and a black shirt underneath. His hair was slicked back and there was stubble on his jaw that hadn’t been there last night.
He grinned and tilted his head back a bit to look me over. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
I willed my cheeks not to turn bright pink and failed. “I’m glad you weren’t expecting a frilly dress.”
Walker’s grin broadened until he was showing me his straight white teeth. “If I was, I’d have brought flowers. But something tells me you wouldn’t have swooned over a bouquet.”
“Your intuition is better than most men.”
He laughed. “There is still plenty of time left in the night for me to prove otherwise.”
Chapter 12
Walker
I opened the passenger door of my Maserati for Nora. She slid into the passenger seat and I closed the door before walking around the hood and getting behind the wheel to turn the ignition.
Nora’s eyes raked over the interior. “Nice car.”
“I left my McLaren at home.”
She arched an eyebrow as I pulled away from the curb and rolled slowly over the speed bumps down her street. “You own a McLaren?”
I chuckled. “No, I’m just messing with you.”
She gazed out the window at the passing townhomes on her side of the street. Rock music played at a low volume on the radio and she drummed one finger to match the beat on the handle in the door.
“I’m glad you agreed to come out with me tonight,” I said.
“You positioned it in such a way that saying no didn’t feel like an option.”
“It’s always an option. I can drive you back home if you prefer.”
She licked her lips and looked over at me. Her eyes seemed a darker shade of blue in the car. As we passed under streetlights, they gave the illusion of briefly glowing until we were swallowed up by dark once more. “I have my going out shoes on,” she said. “Therefore, I’m going out.”
“Can’t argue with that logic.”
“Where is it exactly we’re going out to?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yes, I would,” she said.
“It’s not far. Twenty minutes away, tops. I hope you’re not afraid of the dark.”
“Do I look like I’m afraid of the dark?”
I chuckled. Truth be told, she looked like she wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone. “Not even a little bit.”
At that comment, a smile tugged at her lips. She nodded approvingly. “Good. Is it the leather skirt?”
“It’s everything,” I said.
Nora blushed in my passenger seat, leaned forward, and turned the music up.
Less than twenty minutes later, I handed my keys over to the valet outside a restaurant called Pitch. We moved to the doors, where we stepped into an enclosed and dimly lit lobby. The woman behind the podium took my name and confirmed our reservation for seven thirty.
She stepped out from behind the podium and offered Nora her hand. “I’ll lead you to your table.”
Nora blinked down at the hostess’s hand and back up at me. “Uh, what�
��s this about?”
I took the hostess’s hand instead and held my hand out to Nora. “You’ll see. Do you trust me?”
“I don’t know you.”
“Come on, be brave.” I flicked my fingers in invitation for her to take my hand.
She did.
The hostess led us through a door, where she retrieved a headset that went over her eyes from a table. Nora didn’t say a word but I could feel her confusion mounting as we passed through another door and we plunged into darkness. We slipped through a thick heavy curtain, beyond which I couldn’t even see my hand if I held it inches in front of my face.
I gave Nora’s hand a squeeze, reassuring her that this was what was supposed to happen. She didn’t squeeze back.
The hostess brought us to a table. She let us feel around for our chairs and helped us sit and tuck ourselves in. We were left to feel around. There was no cutlery or anything on the table.
Nora’s voice cut through the dark. “I’ve heard about these kinds of restaurants.”
Other customers sat nearby but not close enough that we could overhear too much of their conversation. Their voices sounded dull and muted, whereas Nora’s was close and rich.
“I’ve always wanted to try one,” I said. “And I figured if you couldn’t see anything it would be harder for you to criticize things.”
She giggled. “Touché.”
Our server could see where she was going and explained how the restaurant worked when she arrived, seemingly out of nowhere due to our lack of eyesight, beside our table. She told us her name was Madison and that she wore a headset that let her see in the dark by sensing heat signatures. She told us what our drink options were and took our wine order. Shortly after, she followed up by bringing our wine to the table and guiding our hands to the stems of our glasses.
“Cheers,” I said, lifting my glass.
Nora laughed. “Cheers.”
I imagined we were both sitting there in the dark extending our glasses in the air and not coming close to each other. However, much to my surprise, our glasses touched with a soft chime.
“Do we get a prize for that?” I wondered.
Nora was quiet, probably sipping her wine. “This must be strange for you as someone who expresses art through visuals. Is that how you usually find inspiration? You see the person you want to paint? Or is it the other way around? You see the image in your mind and find the model to best fit that?”
“The former,” I said, sipping my wine. “I see someone that pulls me in. Sometimes they spend a lot of time wandering around in my head as a muse before I put them on canvas.”
“What usually draws you to them?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted as I set my wine down, hopefully not on the edge of the table. A place like this must deal with broken dishware often. “I suppose I notice the eyes first. The person becomes more alluring the longer I look at them. Usually, I look for things that contradict perfection. A crooked tooth, a scarred lip, lack of symmetry. That appeals to me most.”
“But all your pieces are of stereotypically beautiful women.”
“True,” I acknowledged. “I have a bit of a fixation around feminine beauty.”
“Why?”
She wasn’t holding back. I chuckled. “Honestly? I have no idea.”
Our server returned to list off the food menu items. She ran through a list of pasta dishes, a top sirloin entree, a roast chicken dish, a seafood platter, and a vegetarian option. Nora opted for the maple glazed salmon. I ordered the top sirloin.
“My roommate hung her painting before she went to bed last night,” Nora said.
“Did she now?” I asked, pleased to hear one of my pieces was in the hands of someone who truly appreciated it.
“She was up until one in the morning balancing it out. I have to admit, it looks pretty spectacular.”
“Did you just pay me a compliment?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m just acknowledging that your charity donation to my roommate made her happy. When she’s happy, I’m happy.”
“I’m glad she likes it,” I said. “And the other roommate? The blonde?”
“Julie,” Nora said. “She brought hers to work this morning to hang it up, too. Neither of them has stopped talking about you since we left the gallery last night.”
“And you?”
“What about me?” she asked.
“Have you stopped talking about me?”
She hesitated. Even though I couldn’t see her, I imagined that she was blushing and maybe looking down at her lap. Or perhaps she was boldly staring into the darkness in which I sat across from her.
“You enjoy conversational swordplay, don’t you?” Nora asked.
“I feel called out.”
“As you should.” She was quiet for a beat. “But I’d be lying if I said seeing you again hadn’t been on my mind most of today.”
I liked to hear that. “Really?”
“Yes. And I’ll have you know I don’t need that kind of distraction right now because I’m supposed to be job hunting, not thinking about a date with a—”
“Pretentious swine?”
“I was going to say manipulative trickster.”
“Ouch.”
“You guilted me into coming out on this date with you,” she said.
“True. But you showed that you possessed a small moral compass last night so in my mind you had every reason to say no and tell me to pound sand.”
“Maybe I should have.”
“But then you’d have missed out on this delightful pre-dinner banter.”
Nora laughed. “That’s what this is? Delightful banter?”
“Are you not enjoying yourself?”
Another brief hesitation. “It’s not terrible.”
“Well, that’s a start.”
Nora kept me on my toes. Not being able to see her made it impossible for me to go off visual cues, so she could take her time when she answered me. I hoped she felt like she also had some leverage over me due to the darkness and was weaponizing it appropriately. This was a good way to slow things down and get to know each other without getting caught up in the blue of her eyes or the quirk of her smile.
Sometimes, it was hard for me to see someone, especially a beautiful woman, as someone to sit and speak with rather than someone to paint.
Painting was controlled. Methodic. Simple.
A woman in the flesh was none of those things.
Our food arrived and we laughed at our own uselessness when it came to using cutlery in the dark. Several times over, we found ourselves jabbing empty forks into our lips and teeth, not realizing we’d never managed to put any food on them. Nora’s laugh grew lighter and easier as the evening wore on, and the sound of it started weaving through my mind and leaving a pattern in its wake.
The pattern resembled the silhouette I’d put to canvas late last night after all the ticket holders left my studio.
As she sat across from me, I began painting her in my mind’s eye. She became the silhouette on the other side of the table, a dark shape outlined in red and orange and smoke. What I saw in my mind didn’t make sense, but then again, it never did until the idea came to life at the tip of my paintbrush.
Chapter 13
Nora
The lights in the restaurant lobby seemed blinding when Walker and I emerged from the pitch-black dining room. We shielded our eyes and laughed at our own near blindness as we pushed through the doors and out onto the sidewalk, where he invited me to go for a walk down the street so our eyes could adjust.
It didn’t take long for the fuzzy edges of the streetlights to sharpen and come into focus.
We walked shoulder to shoulder, our gait slow and steady, our hands in our pockets, and passed closed boutiques with trendy outfits on displays in windows. Other restaurants with heated patios played host to couples on dates and groups of friends laughing over cocktails with lime wedges balanced on the rims of sugared glasses.
&nb
sp; The air was cold, but walking past those heated patios lent a bit of warmth every block or so. Cars passed by on the street. Taxis pulled over and cut off traffic. Drivers laid on their horns and pedestrians hurried across street corners.
My stomach was full and content and I breathed in a deep breath of the fresh, crisp air.
“Either they have an exceptional cook in that kitchen or food tastes infinitely better when you can’t see it,” I said.
“It was good, wasn’t it?”
“So good,” I said. “I kept pushing my fork around my plate after, hoping I’d find more food when I’d already eaten it all.”
Walker chuckled. It was a deep, rumbling, masculine sound that made my insides squirm. “I considered licking my plate until I remembered the servers could still see us.”
I laughed. “I wonder how often that happens.”
“Where people forget the servers can see them?”
I snickered. “Yes, I can only imagine the things people do. I mean, humans are pretty disgusting in general and do things in broad daylight that should be reserved to private rooms.”
“Maybe we’re better off not knowing.”
A stiff wind picked up and tugged at the collar of my jacket. I fought off a shiver and tucked my chin down. “Ignorance is bliss.”
We passed a cute coffee shop. Warm light spilled out of the windows and onto the sidewalk. Walker stopped walking and nodded toward the shop door. “How about a coffee to warm up?”
It would have been easy to tell him no and play this night safe. He’d drive me home, I’d tell Nora and Grace the night had gone well and we’d shared some laughs, but that was all there was to it.
However, I didn’t say no.
Instead, I followed him through the coffee shop door and into the warmth that smelled like coffee beans and chocolate. We approached the counter, behind which a young man with a buzzed head and purple ear stretchers greeted us with a warm smile. “Hello, what can I get for you today?”
Walker tilted his head back and looked up at the menu board. “A cappuccino for me please. Nora?”