“So, you didn’t get a prom?”
“Nope.”
“That should be remedied, but that’s for another day,” he says.
“Shall we?” he says putting Zeke’s service dog vest on him for me.
“We shall,” I say taking Zeke’s lead and Damian’s arm.
“I like that you’re telling people about me,” he says.
“You do, huh?”
“Yep. When girls tell their friends, it is definitely a good sign,” he says holding the door.
“Damian,” I whisper.
“Yea?” he whispers back.
“Most of my friends hate you.”
“Touché,” he says.
He walks us to a restaurant on Main Street called Motley’s. It’s definitely more my speed than our last date.
“Well, at least you have spent the year learning my taste in restaurants,” I grin at him.
“The French restaurant was too much?” he says laughing.
“I prefer to be able to pronounce what I am eating and not pay my first-born child for a meal,” I say, and he laughs as he opens the door and ushers us in.
“Umm—we don’t allow dogs here,” the hostess, a young girl maybe sixteen, says as we enter.
“He’s a service dog,” Damian says looking at her.
“I’ll ask my manager,” she says looking at me than looking at Zeke.
“You don’t need to ask your manager—he’s a service dog,” Damian says, some anger in his voice. The girl backs away and I touch Damian’s arm.
“Dame, don’t make a scene please,” I say softly. I am used to this. A few weeks ago, Zeke and I were kicked out of a Chinese restaurant when Natalie and I craved late night food. I tried to explain that I had every right to be there—but I don’t think the owner understood. I told Natalie it was most likely a language barrier issue and that I wasn’t going to throw a fit—there’s other Chinese food in the area.
Damian and I sit in the waiting area, directly beside the hostess’s desk, so when the manager and the hostess walk near us, we can hear the hostess’s weak explanation.
“There’s a dog here. They say it’s a service dog, but I’m not so sure—you can buy those vest’s anywhere, you know? And she doesn’t look…” the hostess starts, and I watch as Damian’s hands turn to fists. I place my hand gently on his.
The manager instantly cuts the girl off. “It’s not your place or mine to decide what dog isn’t or is a service dog or whether or not our customers have a disability. We welcome service animals, Emily.”
The manager walks over to us and smiles.
“I am so sorry about that, Emily is new. Let’s get you all seated and maybe we can get some water for your dog?” she says to us.
Damian starts to say something that I can only guess will be rude, so I stop him.
“That would be much appreciated, thank you,” I say softly, standing up and gently taking Damian’s hand and giving it a light squeeze. Zeke follows behind, his tongue sticking out and his face looking like a permanent smile—he doesn’t know that people don’t understand his importance to my life, he just knows that I am important to him. I pat his head.
We sit down and the lady in the table next to us starts talking to me about Zeke as she sees the manager place water in front of him.
“What a beautiful dog. I know I am not supposed to touch him but look at that face! It’s so hard,” she says, and I smile at her.
Damian gives me a knowing look and smiles. He knows I hate it when people start talking about Zeke and ignore me. He also knows that I hate it when people make a big deal about me being different. I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
This is a hassle. I feel like a hassle. Daniel’s voice rings in my head again:
I don’t want to deal with her tonight, Mel. I just want to eat a goddamn steak dinner in peace. Please.
They left me at home and brought back a meal for me later.
Damian notices my discomfort and thinks it’s the menu.
“Order what you would like instead of the cheapest thing on the menu, please,” he says.
“Got it,” I say smiling. I promised myself I would try to enjoy this. That I wouldn’t think about all the ways this is all wrong, and I plan on trying my hardest to keep that vow to myself tonight.
The air between us is slightly awkward, like any first date, except it is heightened by my own self-awareness. People are staring at us, they heard the hostess make a scene and saw the manager swoop in. My cheeks are still heated.
“So, about that phone call. Why did you look at me like I was an alien after talking to Meredith?” I ask him.
The waitress comes by before he can answer. She is his type and I instantly feel kind of defeated. Tall, blonde, curvy, and definitely confident.
“What will it be, cutie?” she asks looking at Damian and not at me.
“A six ounce, medium, steak fries, and a Caesar salad,” he says.
“And you?” she says blankly at me, looking annoyed.
“That sounds good. I’ll take the same.”
“Coming right up,” she says looking back at Damian and smiling.
“She said that you don’t feel like you’re enough to keep me and that that alone should disqualify me from being boyfriend material. Also, she said a lot about kicking my ass.”
“She has a big mouth.”
“So, you did say that?”
“Yes. I did. I am not exactly your usual type, Damian,” I say looking over at the waitress, she is getting drinks for another table in our section.
“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Fee. And that you knew that I wasn’t just trying to get in your pants.”
“Damian, I never have agreed with your actions. You know that. But I know that your behavior does not make up the sum whole of who you are. I know you. It’s not the idea that you could be trying to get into my pants that’s stopping me.”
“Then what is?” he asks looking confused.
I hoped to avoid this conversation tonight, but he needs to understand why I am so scared, why I don’t think this will work.
“One second,” I say as the waitress sits down our food. She looks way too happy to see us both so uncomfortable. She smiles at Damian and then asks if he needs a refill. He politely says yes, and we continue.
“When I was little, I stole money from Daniel. I was thirteen? It was around the time I was diagnosed. He used to leave his wallet on the nightstand when he slept and I just crept in there and stole twenty dollars,” I say not completely looking at him, more looking in the distance. I remember that time. Daniel wouldn’t give me money to go on a seventh-grade field trip to a museum and I wanted to go. I didn’t want to spend the day in study hall—I wanted to see the dinosaurs and meet with the paleontologist who went to school with my seventh-grade teacher, Miss Kym.
“And my Nan found out. She heard Mel talking about it while we visited her in the home and I thought she was going to be so pissed,” I say with a chuckle. I look Damian in the eye and he is hanging on to every word, if not slightly confused by this seemingly random look into my childhood.
“But she wasn’t. She just looked at me and told me something that I will never forget. She told me that when people do the easy thing, the selfish thing, like stealing, that it just becomes easier and easier to keep doing it. Because doing the hard thing? Like communicating your feelings? Seems further and further from our capacity. Even if we know it’s wrong, it becomes easier to seek the familiar. Why work for something when you can take the easy way out?
“Damian, while I may be afraid that this is all just a game to you, and everyone is warning me that that’s what this is, I know you. And the bigger part of me is afraid that my feelings and your feelings are not enough. I think you’ll seek the familiar when this gets hard. And your familiar is other women. You’ll hate yourself for it and I’ll hate you for it and then where will we be then? I am not afraid of you just wanting to get in my pants, I am
afraid that my pants won’t be enough, particularly since a relationship with me will involve a lot more work. I am not good at dating, it terrifies me.”
“Please don’t do that,” he says, and I look at him confused.
“Do what?”
“Think of yourself as a burden. You aren’t a burden to me, Felicity.”
“Now,” I say softly, eating my food. He is way ahead of me, I have been talking too much.
“I don’t want anyone else, Fee.”
“Now,” I repeat, looking down.
“What can I do to help alleviate this fear of yours?” He says taking my hand.
“What you’re doing seems to be working,” I say softly.
“The point is my hesitation does not come from thinking you are just a player.”
“No, it comes from you not thinking too highly of yourself,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
“You’re amazing, Fee,” he says as we finish up the food, “I wish you could see that.”
“Can we get back to our date please? I believe I was promised hearts and flowers,” I say as he pays.
“I think demanded is the proper term.”
“I got my flowers. Where’s the hearts?” I say taking my last drink and getting Zeke up to go.
“Telling you how amazing you are isn’t hearts enough for you?” he says grinning.
“That’s talk, kitten.”
“You are asking me to do something I shouldn’t,” He says giving me a knowing look and walking me out of the restaurant.
“I thought all I had to do was ask and I got what I wanted?” I say laughing.
“You hate when people talk about you or shower you with affection. You’re setting me up to fail here. If I do it, you have a reason to get freaked out and run—exhibit A, our first kiss. But if I don’t do what you ask, I’m breaking my promise,” he says looking at the cars and stopping on the side of the road.
“Hmm, what a conundrum. What will you do?” I ask him.
“This is us,” he says.
“We are uberring?” I ask.
“You forget that I know you too well to fail at this. After you,” he says opening the door.
“You all headed to Mason and 14th?” the driver asks and Damian nods.
“Why are we going to Mattie’s work?”
“How do you know where Matt works? And since when do you call him Mattie?”
“Since I found out it annoys him,” I say with a smile.
“Yes, we are going to Mattie’s place of employment.”
“What for?”
“Hearts. Now hush,” he says holding my hand. I laugh at him. He hates when I mention Matt.
We walk into the Shrine Club and Damian opens a door.
“Should we be here?” I ask him.
“I have permission, but don’t steal anything,” he says squeezing my shoulders and kissing my cheek from behind me.
“Too soon, kitten,” I say patting his hand, but I am proud of myself for not crumbling at his touch this time. Damian turns on the lights and I see the carnival Matt has been working on, with all of the booths set up and ready without the flashing lights.
“Damian...” I say shocked.
“Well, you know my in. I just called to see if we could get a private epileptic viewing,” he says hugging me. “You told me that your favorite memory was the carnival.”
“That was forever ago, how do you remember that?”
“I remember most things you tell me,” he says grabbing my hand. I look around. It’s mostly just empty equipment and some spare carnival food. I think about my Mom and I feel both sad and amazed at the same time. He found a way for me to come, I had already turned Mattie down because of the lighting.
“Where shall we start?” he asks and I look over at the ring toss.
“Definitely this one,” I say grabbing the rings they have on the side. I grab one and completely miss. Damian laughs and tries his hand at it....he is worse than I am.
“The guys in the movies make winning the giant stuffed animals look way easier than this,” he says shrugging and tossing another ring. It hits another booth.
“There isn’t anyone here, you could just get the big toy off the wall,” I say throwing one and nearly getting it on the bottle.
“Thief!” he says nudging my arm and I give him a look that says I don’t want to be teased, especially regarding that subject.
“Sorry,” he says as he is about to throw it.
I put my arm out, “why don’t we stop before we break something?” I say laughing.
“Probably for the best,” he says grinning.
“Now what?” he says, and I look around. There’s a weird barrel shaped machine with a target on the side.
“What’s that?” I ask him.
“It’s a dunker.”
“A what?”
“A person sits on the bench right here,” he says walking over, “and people pay to try to knock them into water by throwing softballs at the target”
“Ohhh. Get on,” I say looking at him.
“It doesn’t have water, Baby Girl.”
“So?” I say and he rolls his eyes.
“Break any of my bones and you’re carrying me to class,” he says hopping up onto the bench.
“What if it’s an arm?” I say grabbing the softballs on the side.
“Carrying me,” he says looking nervous.
I wind up and completely miss.
“You thought my ring toss was bad?” he says laughing, “I thought I needed to be worried!”
Mad, I throw the ball again this time hitting the target dead on. Damian drops to the bottom of the barrel. A short fall, but nonetheless, I never expected to actually do it after my aim at the toss.
I look for him to come up and he doesn’t.
“Damian? Damian?” I call walking over to the door.
“Shit,” I say seeing him at the bottom. “I’m so sorry are you okay?” I ask hopping down in. He grabs me as soon as I land and hugs me towards him, kissing me short and sweet on the mouth. Shocked I stare at him and he looks to see my reaction. I start to giggle.
“Good aim,” he says laughing.
“You pissed me off,” I say, and he kisses me again, but cuts it short. I raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything, he is testing me.
“Now what?” He asks picking up the toss game and the softballs. I go over to the shooting game.
“Are you actively trying to kill me?” he says as I hold up the gun.
“I don’t know, maybe subconsciously,” I say aiming for the ducks in the pond. I hit one and Damian jumps over to the side where the attendant stands.
“What did I win?” I say sitting the gun down.
“Looks like we are fresh out of giant bears. Would you settle for another kiss?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I’ve already had two of those and they were kind of lame,” I say sitting on the edge of the booth and turning towards him. Zeke lays down, I swear he can see this coming—he’s trying to avoid mom and dad when we are flirting. Damian gives me a look and stands right in front of me. I want my perfect date, I don’t want reality to sink in yet. So, I pull him towards me so I’m straddling him.
“Lame huh?” he says reaching up and cupping my chin.
“Yep. Lame. I think you’ve lost your game. Or your luster,” I say with a grin pulling him closer.
“Fee...” he says in almost a moan
“That’s my name,” I say roughly an inch from his mouth.
“I don’t want to put you in a position where you are going to regret this later. You see this as temporary…and I am noticing a tendency to run,” he says.
“All the more to enjoy it. Kiss me, I earned it,” I whisper. And his lips touch mine. He’s more hesitant this time, instead of dominating all my senses like he did in our kitchen, he’s slowly working my lips nipping and sucking at them. I moan and pull him closer to me—which gives him the go ahead. He wanted to make sure I wanted this. I open
my mouth to him and his tongue expertly enters me while his hands squeeze my back closer. He moves his hand up to my neck and chills go down my spine causing me to moan louder. I pull slightly away for air and he rests his forehead on mine.
“That better for you?”
“Nope. Going to have to do it again,” I say breathless.
“You have other attractions at this carnival, not just me,” he laughs.
“I suppose I do,” I say pulling away and looking at him.
“Are all my awards kisses?”
“That’s the plan,” he says laughing.
“Then I better check out the other booths.”
When we reach the end of the booths, I hadn’t won anymore. But Damian still would kiss my cheek each time as a consolation prize. But it just makes me crave a kiss more and he knows it.
“This was sweet, Damian,” I say as we clean up.
“Oh, we’re not done,” he says. “Come on.”
I take his hand and he grabs Zeke’s lead and takes us to the back.
“Sit up here and close your eyes,” he says patting a counter. I sit and wait a few minutes. Hearing a machine go off.
“Open your mouth,” he says, and I shake my head.
“Never trust a guy that says that,” I say.
“Trust me, Fee,” he says as he puts that damn hand right back where it was on my thigh the other day, making me lose my train of thought.
“That hand is dangerous,” I say opening my mouth and he chuckles. I taste a sweetness. It is way too sweet and I shudder.
“You can’t go to a carnival without cotton candy. Plus, dessert was on the demands list,” he says.
“Apparently,” I say opening my eyes and taking my cone. It’s blue. I giggle and eat my dessert and he just watches me.
“Want some?” I ask.
“No, I just like watching you.”
“Weirdo,” I say taking a big piece of cotton candy, lifting it up and putting it in my mouth like a child would eat spaghetti.
“Is this hearts enough for you, foodie?” he asks walking over to me.
“Perfect,” I whisper taking his hand. He grabs Zeke and calls for an Uber.
As we head up to the apartment and into my room, we are giggling about the Uber driver’s near collision with a Honda Prius.
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