Hooked 4 (Hooked #4)(11)

“You know. I’ve actually never been to this restaurant,” Drew began. “I remember when my mother and father used to go out for their anniversary, they used to go here.”

I swallowed, looking around me. What a beautiful place it truly was, and what joy it had held in this young man’s past life. “What a memory that must be.”

Drew nodded. “Yes, of course. I never was able to get a great sense for their love, you know. Just because back then, everything was very formal. And also, they were trying to just raise a son or whatever. They got married so young.”

“Which is why Mel is your aunt, for some reason,” I chimed in, smiling. “Yeah.”

The host came back with two wine glasses and poured a small amount into mine, allowing me to taste it and approve it first. I nodded subtly, remembering what I’d seen in the movies. And then he poured the rest of the wine for me. I drank the first drink too quickly, allowing it to coat my tongue. I grew embarrassed when I remembered that the wine was several years old; that it had taken much longer to make this wine than it took to make a baby.

I looked up, blinking at Drew. I tried to re-orient myself. This had been the one place where Drew’s parents had been able to be alone, to enjoy each other’s company. They were able to fall away from the chaos of family raising, of the city, of money problems in order to eat pasta and drink wine and love.

But it had only lasted so long.

The waiter came and spoke to us with great, elaborate strokes of his hand. He described the menu and what would pair best with the wine. He plopped a great plate of olive-oiled bread between us, and it took all my concentration not to inhale it immediately. I realized I was completely famished. I wondered if it was the deep fear that tonight would go wrong; I wondered if it was the deep fear that tonight would go completely right.

Drew ordered the chicken Parmesan, and I ordered the vegetarian lasagna. We ordered a few appetizers, as well. “I want it to be special,” Drew spoke shyly, smiling. His wide eyes met mine, and I felt oddly naked there in the restaurant.

I dipped a small piece of bread in the oil and ate it, closing my eyes.

“You know. It’s really sexy when you eat,” Drew whispered, leaning toward me.


I grinned, feeling my face grow warm. “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, trying to chew as politely as possible. As sexily as possible.

Drew grabbed a breadstick as well and started eating. “I don’t know. I just like doing normal things with you. Ordering pizza. Making fun of things. And all the other things, of course.” He winked at me.

I wasn’t sure what to say next. I placed my hands on the table and watched as the lights glittered off my nails. “I think I’m going to have another class tomorrow. The over-fifties are bringing a few of their friends in to try it out. I might have more clients. Which is really wonderful, given the fact that I need to start making rent money.” I smiled at him, trying to make a joke.

But suddenly, Drew’s businessman face took over. He frowned for a moment. “Are you really in over your head, Molly?” he asked me. I felt like I was being asked something horrific, like I had an STD or something.

I shook my head, frowning back to him. I started looking for our food. What was taking it so long? I cleared my throat. “I’m definitely all right. I can afford everything, I just need. You know. Not to have my place bought up before I can make something of myself.”

I knew I’d gone too far referencing this. Drew hadn’t known it was my dance studio, and I had a new dance studio—perhaps one I could make into a better one (over a period of many months, and several thousand dollars). “I mean. It’s fine,” I murmured, trying to make up for it. “I have everything I need, you know. I have a place. They come to me for me, not for—not for a nice-looking dance studio. And at least I’m in the neighborhood—“

Drew had placed his half-eaten breadstick on the plate before him. He chewed slowly, waiting. And then he spoke: “And the loan? How did you pay for it already?”

My jaw dropped, suddenly. My heart started beating hard in my chest. I felt like I was going to explode. “I’m sorry—” I whispered.

“The loan. How did you pay for it already?”

But I hadn’t told him about the loan being paid off. I hadn’t told anyone except Mel. I thought for a moment. If Drew hadn’t found out about my loan being paid through anyone else, that meant. That meant he paid for it. Himself. With his own charity money. My face started to burn as I thought about it. I thought about all the burritos he had Hector make every single week for the poor people of Chicago, and then I realized that I was one of those very poor people. He was helping me with my loan payments; he was giving me money for my dance studio.

I stood up abruptly, nearly toppling the table to the floor. This was supposed to have been a beautiful time together; this was supposed to be a beautiful date. But I felt so angry, so betrayed. “I have to go,” I whispered, not wanting to make any more of a scene than I already had. I scurried away from the table and out into the foyer. Instead of the entrance I’d take, I went out the other way, onto the beach. I began to walk tall, haughtily, through the sand. But my shoes couldn’t take it. It was slow-going.

I could hear him behind me, running. I could hear his heavy breathing, so familiar to his heavy breathing when we made love to each other. What a beautiful time that had been! But never again. It couldn’t be. Too much had happened.