Puddin'(78)

Callie nods her head. “Yeah, and if they had to deal with periods, you better believe tampons would be free.”

Inga nods toward Callie. “She gets it.”

Callie keeps a straight face, but I can tell that Inga’s slight approval has not gone unnoticed.

After I grab my check, Callie and I settle in behind the counter to see what’s left of the daily checklist.

Callie gasps.

I look up just in time to see Mitch pull the front door open. He’s not wearing workout clothes and he hasn’t got a gym bag with him.

“Uh, hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Callie and I say in unison.

I shrink back a little when I feel Callie tense up beside me.

Callie holds out the sign-in clipboard. “You can go ahead and sign in.”

Mitch clears his throat. “I’m, um, actually not here to work out today.”

“Okay,” says Callie.

Mitch nervously pops his knuckles until they won’t pop anymore.

I so desperately want to jump in and mediate the situation, but I do everything in my power to restrain myself.

“Could we maybe talk?” he asks.

“Totally!” I say.

They both look to me with raised brows.

I grin sheepishly.

Mitch turns back to Callie. “Maybe in private?”

That’s my cue. “I have so much to do,” I say, taking the checklist. Trying my best not to sound awkward, I turn to Callie and add, “Callie, could you watch the front desk while I work on my super-long to-do list?”

Her eyes are wide with panic, and her cheeks are turning pink, but she says, “Uh, yeah. You go do that.”

I skip around the gym, trying to make myself look busy. I don’t purposely eavesdrop, but it’s not like this place is very big.

After a while, I hear Mitch say, “What about Saturday?”

“Saturdays aren’t good,” says Callie.

“Saturday’s good!” I say before I can stop myself.

Callie twirls around to find me cleaning the mirrors above the hand weights. Our gazes meet in the reflection of the mirror. “I thought we had our thing,” she says through gritted teeth. “You know, our thing.”

I turn around and shrug. “It’s Easter Sunday weekend, so we’re skipping this weekend. Plus Hannah says Courtney is demanding a Saturday date night.”

“Sure, let me just plan my life around Hannah’s girlfriend,” she mumbles.

I smile and shrug.

She whirls around and throws her hands up a little but quickly lets them drop to her sides. “Okay then,” she says to Mitch. “I’m still grounded, so I’ll have to check with my mom, but maybe Saturday.”

Mitch’s rosy cheeks flare. “Maybe Saturday.”

Callie nods. “Maybe. But probably not. You should know I am definitely a glass-half-empty kind of person.”

Mitch thinks on that for a minute. “So it’s a glass-half-empty maybe then?” He holds his hand out awkwardly, like he means to shake Callie’s hand, but then just fist bumps her before leaving.

I wait for the door to shut entirely before I loudly say, “Is that a date?”

When Callie turns around, I expect to find her normally grumpy something-smells-bad expression, but it’s clear she’s brimming with excitement despite how hard she’s trying to keep a lid on it. “Maybe,” she says. “It’s a maybe date. Glass half empty, maybe.”

I rush to her and she meets me halfway, our hands clasped, as we squeal at approximately the same level of sound as a dog whistle.

After work and dropping off Callie, I sit in the driveway at home for a minute to check my text messages.

MALIK: Did you send your application in?

MILLIE: I did! Your directorial debut!

MALIK: Well, that calls for a celebration. Friday night?

MILLIE: It’s a date.

A tidal wave of excitement hits my stomach. A date! Not only does Callie have a date this weekend, but now so do I. What can I say? Love is in the air.

Inside, I find both my parents getting ready for dinner. Now, I think. This is the perfect time to tell them. With Dad here to ease the blow.

My mom spins around the kitchen island just as my dad plants a big, wet kiss on her cheek. “Your father brought home brisket, mac and cheese, green beans, dinner rolls, and peach cobbler from Melba B’s Barbecue, so I guess it’s cheat night for everyone.” She hums “Go Tell It on the Mountain” to herself as she runs back to the kitchen for a few serving spoons.

Melba B’s is my mother’s favorite—food so good she hums!—and if it’s up to her, it would undoubtedly be her last meal, but she so rarely eats it and my dad is usually the only person who can convince her otherwise.

A low sigh slips from me.

I can’t tell her I’m not going back to Daisy Ranch. Not right now. I won’t ruin this perfect night for her.

On Friday night, Malik picks me up for our date. Well, if you ask my parents, it’s a study date, and Malik is picking me up so we can go to Amanda’s, but that’s because I’m not sure what their opinion on dating is. If I had to guess, they’d prefer I just didn’t.

After much deliberation, I settled on a mint-green cotton dress with little daisy buttons sewn all around the collar—my own personal touch, obviously—and a pair of yellow flats.