How is everyone doing this long weekend? Well, hopefully you're getting a long weekend :) I hope you're enjoying a barbecue, some friends, and maybe taking some time to remember what the day's all about. My hat's off to all those who serve, or have served, and I am deeply grateful for all that these men and women have done for our country.
On a blog-tour note, I'm hanging out on Sabrina Garie's blog today--stop by and join us :)
And if you are having a fun get-together, let me know so I can live by proxy, okay? Hubby and I have yet to meet a lot of people here and I would give a whole lot to actually get out of the house and do more than either work or go to the movies...
Okay, back to the story!
~I wasn’t sure what I was more nervous about: looking perfect for the date, or the list of questions I carefully wrote out and tucked into my purse.
Seeing as how I had been too nervous to ask where we’d be going, I had no idea what to wear. I ended up in a pair of bright peddle-pushers and a crisp button-up. I left my hair down, just pinned back at the sides, and wore lipstick in a bright shade I’d only seen Mary master.
James was right on time. I left before my parents could say anything.
“Shouldn’t I meet your father?” James asked as I hurried past him on my front porch.
“Do you actually want to go out anywhere?”
“Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”
I rolled my eyes. “Let’s just go. Should I drive?” I realized he didn’t have a car and briefly wondered how he’d walked here and still looked so good.
Giving in, James trailed me to the car, opening my door before settling into the passenger’s seat.
“Where are we heading?” I asked, trying to look busy starting the car so maybe he wouldn’t notice my shaking hands.
“The Dairy Queen, if that’s okay with you?”
I nodded, trying to not wince. There was no chance of avoiding being seen by at least half the school there. But, did I care? Sneaking a glance at him, at home in my tank of a car, I had to admit I really didn’t.
We didn’t talk much until we were sitting at one of the booths in the back of the noisy restaurant, me picking at my fries while he drank a Coke and looked around the room in curiosity at the tittering crowds of teens.
“Are you going to answer any of my questions?” I ventured, reaching into my purse for my list.
When he saw the paper, he laughed. “You made a list?”
I shrugged. “What, and forget any of my questions? Is there a problem with that?”
He shook his head and took the paper from my hands, scanning the list while wearing his little smirk-smile that both annoyed me and made me wonder if he knew better uses for his lips.
There was something different about his eyes when he looked up again. Once again, the barriers were gone. I swallowed hard and stared at him. No way was he getting out of this without giving me some answers.
He did answer my questions. He had explanations for them all. Even the silly one about holding his breath (he said something about training for swimming because he was so bored in class). All his answers were simple, like he was doing his level best to convince me I was stupid for even asking.
I didn’t believe a word he said.