Diary of a Teenage Jewel Thief(25)
Will looks to me as if to ask if I need the waiter to tell me about the food, and I shake my head.
“No thank you, I think we’re ready to order,” he tells Tommy.
Tommy pulls a pen and order pad out of his apron and says, “Great! Go ahead when you’re ready.”
“Spaghetti?” Will asks me, and I confirm with a nod. He orders two plates of spaghetti with meatballs, and Tommy promises to have our order to us shortly. Then he ambles away to check on the couple at the table across the aisle.
“Is it weird that I ordered for you? I don’t want to be one of those guys, ya know? It just seemed easier, since we were ordering the same thing.” Will’s demeanor is different than what I’m used to seeing from him. He seems unsure of himself, and almost shy.
“No, it’s fine. I mean…I told you what I wanted, so it’s not like you were just ordering food willy-nilly.”
He chuckles at my choice of words, and then we lapse into silence. It’s not comfortable silence like when we walk to and from school together. The air between us is loaded with something I can’t quite put my finger on, some sort of new tension that didn’t exist before tonight.
“This is the first time I’ve ever been on a date on Valentine’s Day.” I say it to fill the void and maybe explain away some of my nervousness, but it’s not entirely true. I’ve never actually been out on a date. Period. But he doesn’t need to know that.
“Me, too. I’m not really sure how this is supposed to go.”
“What, you? Will ‘Casual’ Campbell? You don’t know what to do on a date?” I tease.
“Hey, a date is one thing. A casual dinner on Valentine’s Day is something else entirely.” He blushes that adorable shade of pink, and I take mercy on him and let the conversation drop.
“So, how are you doing with precalc? Is it getting any better for you?” He’s changing the subject to school. School is safe. This is a conversation I can get into. And I do.
All through dinner, we exist in that weird place between awkwardness and friendly banter. Will is a perfect gentleman, but maybe that’s the problem. I’m used to his lady-killer vibes, and tonight I’m getting something different, something altogether more wholesome. And infinitely appealing. Not only is he totally hot, but the longer this date goes on, the more I start to suspect that Will has a romantic soul that he hides with flirting and pickup lines. By the time he pays the check, I’m antsy to get outside and away from whatever is building between us.
“Well, flower, the night is still young. Wanna catch a movie or something?” Will asks me as we step out onto the sidewalk.
I consider the possibility for a moment, then shake my head. I’m not ready to leave his company, but I’m not in the mood to sit and stare at a screen and not talk to each other for the next two hours. “No movie. Wanna just walk for a bit?”
“Sure.” He reaches out and grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together, and we stroll away from the restaurant to nowhere in particular. And I’m content to just view the sights around us.
Chapter Eleven
The sidewalk is busier than I expected when we leave the restaurant, and every few yards, I have to squeeze closer to Will to avoid bumping passersby.
He doesn’t seem to mind, and after the fourth time, he slips his arm around my shoulders. “If you wanted to cuddle, all you had to do was say so.”
“Ha-ha. Aren’t you funny.”
“I’m hilarious; ask anyone.” He puffs his chest out in a mock show of pride.
“And humble, too, I see.”
“Come on. I want to show you something.” Will grabs my hand and veers off the sidewalk, lightly tugging me up the handful of stone steps leading to the front door of one of the brownstones. He already has a key in hand by the time we get to the door, and he has it unlocked and open before it registers in my brain that this is where he lives.
“This is your place?” I ask, even though I’ve already figured that out.
“Yeah, well, the building is split into apartments. I live on the second floor, but that’s not where we’re going.” Still holding my hand in his, he leads me into a long gallery with white-paneled walls and dark wood floors. About halfway down the long, wide hall, we stop in front of an elevator. It opens as soon as he calls it, having already been on the ground floor, and we step in.
Inside, the elevator is small, cramped in a way that would normally have made me uncomfortable to share with another person. But being in such tight quarters with Will has a different effect on me, like I’m waking up; I’m instantly so much more aware of him than I was just moments ago—the warmth of his body less than a foot away; his scent, like clean laundry and the barest hint of a woodsy cologne; the way he seems to take over the space, possess it, possess me.
He reaches for the button panel to the right of the door, and I visually track the movement, unable to take my eyes off him. The shiny brass panel frames buttons for five floors and a sixth button marked R. He presses that last button and settles casually against the back wall as the elevator lurches into motion.
Something about being alone with him in the tiny elevator reminds me of the night we danced together, of being close to him. Before we’re even halfway to our floor, I’m imagining Will leaning in to kiss me. I picture him covering me with his body, pressing me back into the elevator wall. And just like that, the area is uncomfortably warm for mid-February. I jump when the elevator chimes our arrival and the door slides open to spit us onto the roof.