The house is empty when I get home. I yell for Ali, desperate to unload some of my feelings about N'Sync, but then realise that she is probably still on her date with Nick. I sit down on the couch and rest my head against the soft back. Just what do I think about that? I really don’t know. I am hoping that by the end of my night with Brian, I just may have the answers. Or at least, some of them. I check my watch and find that it’s 6pm already. I just have time to shower and get changed before Brian arrives. I head into the bathroom.
After a long shower I stand in front of my closet for ages trying to decide what is appropriate first date clothing. In the end I decide on a deep purple halter-neck three-quarter length slash dress which shows off my dark complexion. Plus it is racy without breaking the speed limit twice over.
Right on time, I hear the doorbell and I open it to Brian. I catch my breath as I take him in. Damn he looks gorgeous. His reddish blonde hair is curly and slightly wet – I’ve always had a thing for wet guys. He’s wearing a midnight blue shirt which enhances his eyes perfectly and black slacks with boots. He smiles at me warmly as his eyes travel down my body and then back to my eyes again. He reaches out to take my hand.
“Wow,” he whispers.
I smile. “Wow yourself.”
He laughs. “You ready?”
I nod and he gently pulls me over the doorway to him. I shut the door, trying not to let his scent go straight to my head. We walk to his car. He lets go of my hand when we reach it and opens the door for me.
I mimic my mom’s deep Southern drawl, “Mah mammy always told me to date a real Southern gentleman.”
He laughs as he walks round to the other side and climbs in, “That’s me.” I smile at him. “Ok, I was thinkin’ Italian?”
“Mmm, my favourite.”
“Yeah? Excellent. I’ve been told about this private place so I’ll try find it.”
“Cool. I just love mystery tours.”
He chuckles and drives away. “I’m great at those. I get lost ALL the time.”
“Ditto. I’ve been known to read maps upside down and then try to follow them.”
He throws me an amused look. “Ok, you’re worse.”
I laugh. “Thanks.”
“But probably not as bad as Nick. He gets lost in his own house.”
I laugh. “That I can imagine.”
“Isn’t he out with Ali tonight?”
I shrug. “I guess.” The last thing I want to do is talk about Nick and Ali. “So, what’d you do today?”
“Not much. Kev had a barbecue so I went along. It was ok I guess. He’s having another one at the weekend and he asked me to invite you along.”
“A barbecue?”
“Yup. Kev’s barbecues are legendary! Well, in Backstreet camp anyways,” he grins. “This one at the weekend is just for us guys and our girls,” he glances across at me and blushes, worrying he’s said too much.
From any other guy, I’d be bristling with feminist indignation at being called his girl, but with Brian it is different. It is cute and it sends warm feelings shooting all over my body. I smile at him and he relaxes.
“So, will ya come?”
“Maybe,” I touch his leg softly. “Let’s just enjoy tonight.”
He smiles. “Sounds like a plan. So, how was your day?”
“Oh, don’t ask,” I roll my eyes and he chuckles.
“That bad?”
“Let’s just say – interview, N'Sync, wandering hands, JC - and leave it at that.”
Brian laughs. “Got the picture.”
“Nick,” I whisper, as he silently reads his menu.
He looks across the table at me. “Yeah?”
“I don’t understand this,” I grimace, pointing at the menu.
Smiling, he stands up and slides himself next to me in the booth. Putting one arm around me, he uses his other hand to point out the best foods.
“This means chicken, and that… I think that’s snails. We don’t want that. And this is…” he notices that I’m staring at him.
I turn away and blush. When I look back at him, he’s staring deeply into my eyes. He gently cups my chin in his hands, and pulls my face up to meet his. After his soft kiss, he turns away and his face turns slightly red.
“I’m sorry, I just had to do that.”
“I really didn’t mind,” I reply.
As we lean in to kiss again a waiter comes, interrupting us.
“Oh, I guess we’ll start out with a salad, then have…that,” he says, pointing to some foreign word on the menu.
“Excellent choice, monsieur,” the maitre’d says, taking our menus.
“I hate those menus!” I burst out, and Nick jumps a little.
“Why is that?”
“Because they don’t have the prices on my menu.”
“What do you mean? Why don’t they?” he asks, confused.
“They don’t have the prices on the girl’s menu so the girl won’t worry about how expensive her meal is, so she won’t feel guilty about it,” I explain.
“I like that,” he smiles.
That beautiful smile. I close my eyes, and become slightly dizzy. Then an old classical slow song started playing, as couples walked into the centre ballroom and began waltzing.
“Do you know how?” he asks, pointing to the couples.
“Of course. I had to take lessons in ballroom dancing after I started-” I cut myself off. “Can we go try it?”
He nods, giving me a funny look. I have just met this guy; I’m not about to get into my whole past right away. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He takes my hand and we walk down the steps to the dance floor. After several minutes, which barely felt like a couple of seconds, the waiter comes with our food and we head back to the table.
“Time to eat, I’m starved,” Nick says, rubbing his stomach.
“That was really delicious, Nick. Thanks,” I compliment, as I finish the last bite of my strawberry cheesecake.
“Don’t thank me, I didn’t make it. You’d know if Nick Carter made you dinner,” he says, cockily.
“Yeah, you’d be surrounded by smoke,” I say, half-joking. He cracks up laughing, spewing a mouthful of champagne out of his mouth. “Eww!” I shriek, jumping out of the way. Several people turn to stare at us, but we ignore them.
“Your bill, monsieur,” says the maitre’d, giving us odd looks.
Nick laughs, and as the man walks away I snatch the bill from Nick’s hand. Pulling it back toward me, Nick grabs my hand as I almost tip over a glass of water.
“We don’t need another replay of today, now do we?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear.
“Oh, ha ha.”
“Gimme that,” he reaches to get the check but I hold it out of his reach.
“Holy shit!” I whisper loudly as I read the amount, not wanting to cause any more attention. “I’m so going to pay as much as I can of this!”
“No you aren’t, give it to me.” I hand him the check and watch his face for a response. “What?” he asks, looking back up at me.
“Nothing.”
He smiles and takes out a few bills, then puts them on the table. “Ready Malady?” he asks in a sucky French accent.
“Don’t quit your day job,” I laugh, as he gets all sulky once again.