“I cannot believe you brought me here like this,” Skyler says for the fifth time. She takes a sip of her wine and tries to sink lower into the booth.
“It’s just Bella’s,” I remind her, laughing. Bella’s is a small but very nice Italian restaurant not too far from the coast. It’s romantic, white lights hung above an open garden type setting. Mostly everyone here is dressed formally. Everyone but us, that is. “And you look exquisite, so stop. Don’t you feel more comfortable in those sweat pants than you did in that scrap of fabric you called a dress?”
“Well obviously, but you’re not supposed to wear sweat pants to a nice restaurant where there are other people dining. Or on a date. Or in public in general, really.”
“Says who?” I ask, topping off our wine glasses with the bottle I bought.
“Says,” she stutters, her hands gesturing to everyone around us. “Says everyone. It’s just not something you do.”
I smile and shake my head. “You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who cares what people think. That sounds like the old you, the you that didn’t fit in and played poker at home every weekend.”
She rolls up her straw wrapper and tosses it at my head, pegging me directly in the forehead. Bull’s-eye.
“I played poker at home on the weekends because I wanted to, thank you very much,” she says, laughing. “And yeah, maybe I do care what other people think. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that – perception is reality, right?”
“If you say so,” I say, still smiling as the waiter drops off our food. We eat and talk about everything and nothing, sipping from our glasses until the bottle is devoured. I stay away from deep topics, not wanting to dive back into that territory. It killed me hearing why she played poker, even though I know I needed to ask. I’m supposed to use it against her, to figure out what makes her tick and manipulate it to break her. But instead, when she told me, all I wanted to do was walk away. I wanted to tell her I was a complete asshole and she should stay away from me and then call my dad and tell him to fuck off. But I didn’t. I asked more questions, shit got deeper and deeper, and now I’m in this game that I’m not sure I can play.
While we wait for the check, Skyler’s knee bounces under the table and she keeps looking around like she’s afraid she’s going to see someone she knows. I take it as my cue and finish off the last bit of wine left in my glass before standing and straightening my wrinkled tank.
Skyler’s eyes shoot to mine, her knee halting. “What are you doing?”
I clear my throat and pull out the best Midwestern accent I can muster, drawing inspiration from the guys I used to hang out with in Kansas. They always said I talked funny, but I think they were on the wrong end of that sentence. “Ella Mae,” I say, grabbing Skyler’s hand. She’s looking at me like she would a flying purple turtle. “I know we’ve only been together for ‘bout a year now, but I feel like you’re my whole world. I wanna drive our RV all over ‘Merica and see everything with you. I can’t imagine sharin’ my pork rinds with anyone else. And, well, I guess what I’m sayin’ is…” I drop down to one knee, fishing in my pocket for the straw wrapper I’ve been tying under the table. At this point, everyone is watching us, some have even pulled out their camera phones, sensing what was about to happen. Skyler’s face is red – not pink, not flushed – but a deep, crimson red. I can’t tell if she’s more embarrassed or pissed, but I’m leaning toward the latter. I bite my lip and pretend to get a little teary eyed as I present her with the make-shift wrapper ring. “Will you marry me?”
I hear a few people gasp and a collective awww rings out. Skyler’s lips are pursed together in a hard line and her eyes are bulged wide. She’s trying to signal for me to get off the floor and call everything off, but I’m not done yet.
“I know it’s just a straw wrapper. Heck, I never have been able to give you the finer things in life. But I promise to buy you a real nice ring when we can afford it. I’ll buy you whatever ring you want! Just please make me the happiest man this side of the Mississippi river and say yes.”
Everyone waits, a few people whispering encouragements to Skyler as she stares down at me. I’m pretty sure she’s about to walk out, to smack me in the face and tell me to walk back to campus alone, but instead her free hand flies to her mouth and her eyes water. “Oh gosh, Tommy,” she says, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t spend my life with anyone else. Yes, a thousand times, yes!” She jumps off her chair and into my lap, throwing her arms around my neck. The restaurant erupts in cheers and we both laugh into each other’s shoulders.
“Nicely played, Ella Mae,” I whisper. She digs her knuckle into my rib and I let out a yelp before standing and pulling her with me.
“Kiss! Kiss!” Someone chants, and pretty soon a dozen others join in. The camera phones are recording and snapping away. I smile and turn to Skyler, who greets me with wide, shy eyes. Still grinning, I pull her in close and dip her in a dramatic fashion before pressing my lips to hers.
And for a moment, I forget this is fake.
When her mouth meets mine, that same magnetic charge from the first time we kissed flows through to my core, catching me by surprise. My fingers are splayed across her lower back where her tank top has risen a bit and I feel the chills race across her skin. I grip her a little tighter, my mouth eager, before I find control and pull her back up. Releasing her from my grasp, I offer a sideways smile and a shrug and she flushes deeper, more cameras flashing. I thank everyone in the crowd, leave enough cash to cover the bill and a nice tip on the table, and then grab Skyler’s hand and lead her out into the night.
For a few moments she doesn’t say anything, just lets me hold her hand as we wait for the cab I called. Maybe she wants to continue the show, or maybe she likes the way it feels to have her hand in mine. I’m fine with it, either way. When the cab finally shows and we dip inside, she waits until I close the door and then smacks me hard across the chest.
“What the hell, Kip?! What was that? Oh my God I could kill you right now. I’m in my sweat pants and you draw attention like that? And did you see everyone’s faces and all the cameras? And a paper ring? Seriously?” She starts off angry, but with every word I laugh harder until she gives up fighting the curve of her mouth and eventually ends up laughing with me. “You’re such a little prick.”
“Oh I have quite a large prick, actually,” I say, holding up a finger in correction. She shakes her head, still laughing, and I direct the cab to our next destination.
“The beach?” Skyler asks, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “I can’t walk on the beach in my sweats. They’ll get all sandy.”
“Roll up the pant legs.”
“What? No, that’s silly.”
“Who cares? You trying to impress someone?”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s not the point.”
“Give me your legs,” I say, motioning with my hand. I hold it out and wait as she stares at me, confused. “Seriously, give them to me.”
She goes to ask why and I get tired of waiting, so I reach down and grab her ankles, pulling them into my lap. Slowly, I begin rolling up her left pant leg, letting my fingers rub against her smooth skin more than they need to. She jerks back at first, but I grab her calves in protest and she gives in. As my fingers work, I imagine pulling her to straddle me so I can feel her thighs the same way I’m feeling her ankles. After that kiss, I can’t think about anything else but how close her body is to mine.
“This is stupid, I’m going to look ridiculous.”
“It won’t be that bad,” I say, finishing her other leg and dropping her feet back to the floorboard as I pull my own up onto the seat. “I’ll have mine rolled, too.”
She tucks her arms across her chest and looks out the window, mumbling. “How very comforting.”