I chuckle softly. Though I don’t doubt Elias could kick anyone’s ass, I also think Reese might have one or two cards up his sleeve when it comes to situations like that. The guy is tall, and surprisingly competent. He might not have the bulging muscles Elias does, but sheer muscles don’t always equal an automatic win.
When Reese’s car pulls into the driveway, I go to the front door, shrug on my coat, and say goodbye. I step out into the world of night and head straight for the car, right as Reese is starting to get out. He sees me and stops halfway, one foot on the driveway, and one still in his car.
“Oh,” he says with a dimpled grin. “I was going to come get you. Eager to get this thing started, I take it?”
I blush as I meet him at his car. “Oh, um, I guess I didn’t know—” I stop myself from saying that my old boyfriend never came to the door to get me when he was picking me up; he always waited in his car. I just thought that’s what guys did.
Not every guy, apparently.
He finishes getting out. “No worries, but here, let me get the door for you, at least.” He leaves his driver’s side door wide open as he walks with me around his vehicle, and then he pulls open the passenger door for me, waits until I’m properly seated, and closes it.
His car is nice and warm, almost too warm, given the jacket I wear, but I don’t say anything. My head is buzzing too much. I wasn’t aware guys opened doors for girls these days. Is Reese that unusual, or was my ex just that terrible? I never had anyone to compare Mike to, so maybe the relationship was never as great as I thought it was.
Not that I’m saying Ineeda man who opens doors for me, but it is kind of nice. Chivalrous.
Once Reese is back behind the wheel, he tosses me a glance and a grin. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”
“No,” I say. “No. I’m excited.” Is that a lame thing to admit before a date?
He doesn’t seem to mind, because he says, “Good. I’m excited, too.”
That makes me feel better. I smile to myself as I fiddle with my hands, and Reese backs the car up and gets us on the road. “Where are we going? You never told me.”
“It’s a newer restaurant in the area I’ve been meaning to try out. It’s not a super fancy place, if that’s what you’re wondering. I hope that’s not a deal breaker for you.”
“No, I don’t really do fancy.”
“I figured.”
We talk a little during the drive. He asks me how my week was, if I’m taking any classes that I think might give me trouble, to which I have to hold back a laugh. I’m still taking the common core courses, and they don’t make those ones difficult at all since everyone has to take them before they graduate.
“You’re still undecided?” he asks, pulling into a parking lot. I guess we’re here. It really wasn’t that far away from the house. Maybe ten or so minutes.
“Yeah. I don’t know. Everything kind of feels…” I don’t want to say hopeless and pointless, because I’ve never thought that in my life, but after last semester, the doubt has crept inside of me and never left. I can’t picture my future anymore.
He turns off his car and unbuckles before he turns toward me. “I get it. The future feels more uncertain than ever, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have hopes and dreams still. If there’s something you want to be, something you want to try for, now’s the time. Not saying it’ll be impossible to chase those dreams in twenty years, but things tend to get harder, from what I hear. More bills, more responsibilities. The older you get, the more the world throws at you.”
“You’d know all about that, huh?” I don’t know what came over me, but the retort is out of me before I can stop it. I hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way. I meant it jokingly.
Thankfully, Reese laughs. “Wait a second. Are you—are you calling me old, Wren?”
I’m slow in undoing my own seatbelt. “I mean, aren’t you?”
Again, he laughs. “Compared to you, maybe. Still, I don’t think twenty-nine is that old.”
A ten-year gap in our ages. To some people, that would be a major red flag. Then again, so would him being a professor and me a student, even if we don’t share any classes together anymore. This whole date night some people would judge and look down on, but I’m not one of those people.
We get out of the car and head to the door of the restaurant—looks like a new Italian place. He holds the door open for me again, and when we’re instantly greeted by a hostess, he tells her it’ll be just the two of us. We are escorted to a booth near the windows in the front, and as she sets down the menus, both Reese and I take off our jackets.
As he takes his off, I get a nice, long look at him. The man is well over six feet, not an ounce of fat on him. He wears black pants with a dark gray, button-up shirt, its sleeves down to his wrists. The dark colors suit him.
God, he really is attractive. What the heck is he doing on a date with me?
He folds and tosses his jacket onto the booth before he slides in, and I do the same. He says, “You look beautiful tonight.” The compliment just flows out of him like that, and his words make me blush.
“Thanks.” I hate how awkward I sound. “You look good, too.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but we’re interrupted by a waiter, who comes to take our drink order and ask if we’d like some bread—to which I want to say, duh. If there’s bread tobe had before the meal, you can bet your butt I’m going to fill up on that warm, buttery bread and regret it the moment my actual food comes.