Slammed(11)

"Wow, those are some intense questions." I take a deep breath as I soak in even more sage advice from her. "Were you able to answer yes to all of them? When you were with Dad?"

"Absolutely." She doesn't hesitate. "Every second I was with him."

I watch the sadness enter her eyes as she finishes her sentence. She loved my dad. I start to regret bringing it up. I put my arms around her and embrace her. It's been so long since I've hugged her, a twinge of guilt rises up inside me. She kisses my hair, then pulls away and smiles.

I stand up and run my hands down my shirt, smoothing out the folds.

"Well? How do I look?" I ask.

"Like a woman,” she sighs.

It's seven-thirty sharp so I go to the living room, grab the jacket Will insisted I borrow the day before and head to the window. He's coming out of his house so I walk outside and stand in my driveway. He looks up and notices me as he's opening his car door.

"You ready?" he yells.

"Yes!"

"Well, come on then!"

I don't move. I just stand there and fold my arms across my chest.

"What are you doing?" He throws his hand up in defeat and laughs.

"You said you would pick me up at seven-thirty! I'm waiting for you to pick me up!"

He grins as he gets in the car. He backs straight out of his driveway and into mine so that the passenger door is closest to me. He hops out of the car and runs around to open it. Before I get in I give him the onceover. He’s wearing loose fitted jeans and a black long sleeved shirt that outlines his arms. It's the defined arms that prompt me to return his jacket to him.

“That reminds me,” I say as I hand him his jacket. “I bought this for you.”



He grabs the jacket and slides his arms inside. “Wow, it even smells like me,” he laughs.

He waits until I've buckled up before he shuts the door. As he's walking around to his side, I notice the car smells like...cheese. Not old, stale cheese; but fresh cheese, cheddar maybe. My stomach growls. I'm curious where we're going to eat.

When Will gets in, he reaches into the backseat and grabs a sack. "We don't have time to eat, so I made us grilled cheese." He hands me a sandwich and a bottle of soda.

"Wow. This is a first," I say as I stare at the items in my hands. "And where exactly are we going in such a hurry?” I twist open my lid. "It's obviously not a restaurant."

He unwraps his sandwich and takes a bite. "It's a surprise," he says with a mouthful of bread. He navigates the steering wheel with his free hand as he simultaneously drives and eats. "I know a lot more about you than you know about me, so tonight I want to show you what I'm all about."

"Well, I'm intrigued," I say. I really am intrigued.

We both finish our sandwiches and I put the trash back in the bag and place it in the backseat. I try to think of something to say to break the silence, so I ask him about his family.

"What are your parents like?"

He takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. "I'm not big on small talk, Lake. We can figure all that out later. Let's make this drive interesting," he says as he relaxes further into his seat.

Driving, no talking, keeping it interesting. I'm repeating what he said in my head and hope I’m misunderstanding his intent. He laughs when he sees the hesitation on my face and it dawns on him that I've taken what he said out of context.

"Lake, No!" he laughs. "I just meant let’s talk about something besides what we’re expected to talk about."

I breathe a sigh of relief. I thought I had found his flaw. "Good," I laugh.

"I know a game we can play. It's called 'would you rather.' Have you played it before?"

I shake my head. "No, but I know I would rather you go first."

"Okay." He clears his throat and pauses for a few seconds. "Okay, would you rather spend the rest of your life with no arms; or would you rather spend the rest of your life with arms you couldn't control?"

What the hell? I can honestly say this date has definitely not started the way any of my previous dates have gone. It's pleasantly unexpected though.

"Well…" I hesitate. "I guess I would rather spend the rest of my life with arms I couldn't control?"

"What? Seriously? But you wouldn't be controlling them!" he says, flapping his arms around in the car. "They could be flailing around and you'd be constantly punching yourself in the face! Or worse, you might grab a knife and stab yourself!"