“I’m not saying worship me or bring me things. That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Rowan sighs. “If you are going to be that difficult, then I seriously have my work cut out for me. We might as well just call this whole thing off right now.”
Panic claws at my throat. I hate that I’m trapped between a rock and an asshole place at the moment, but there’s nothing I can do except endure it.
A young girl who is probably no more than sixteen—dressed in a bright pink mini dress type thing that looks like a collared shirt stretched down just enough to cover the essentials, and a frilly apron that is completely inappropriate as far as restaurant attire should go—comes to take our order then.
Rowan orders a club sandwich, salad instead of fries, and a slice of cherry pie to go. I order the burger and fries, which I’m informed, by said waitress, is a good choice. At least I got something right as far as this evening goes.
Rowan starts in on me again as soon as we’ve placed our orders, and our waitress saunters away. I can hear her yelling the orders in the kitchen a few seconds later, which for some reason, actually makes me smile.
“The car ride over here was thirty minutes. I chose that for a reason. I wanted to see what you would do with that time. You did nothing.”
I nearly wince. Jesus. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was a test.” Either this lady seriously hates me, or she’s a real tough ass. Maybe both. “You could have said something to start the conversation off. A normal person on a normal date would.”
“That’s not necessarily true.” Rowan toys with a strand of hair. I can’t tell if she’s bored or if I’m actually making her nervous. “A lot of people will be too intimidated to make the first move. You might be too—shy or nervous or whatever else—but if the silence is dragging on and getting weird, then you should definitely say something.”
“Well, the whole thing was a setup and bullshit right from the start. First of all, you told me no personal information was to be given out. I wouldn’t be picking anyone up from their house.”
“Maybe not, but you picked Amanda up from an arranged public place. That’s pretty much the same thing. We just tell people to keep their private information private to keep everyone safe. That wasn’t needed in this case.”
“No?” I arch a brow. “How do you know I’m not actually a stalker or something? You did say I was creepy.”
“Stop.” Rowan picks up her water and takes a sip. She doesn’t lose her composure. She doesn’t even look rattled, but her left eye twitches again. “I’m not getting into that. If you want to stalk me or creep me, you can deal with the law. I’ll take my chances. Anyway, that’s changing the subject, and I’m not going to let you do it. We are talking about you being the one to break the ice after just a few minutes of silence. If you get the conversation going, you’ll be surprised at how pleasant the drive could have been.”
“You could have said something.”
“I wanted to see what you would do.”
“Great. You know, most people don’t act how they normally would when they’re under extreme duress?”
“You consider this extreme duress? If that’s true, then you need to get out and experience more of life.”
“This whole thing is a test that you’ve already determined I’m going to fail, no matter what.”
Rowan sets her hand on the table and taps her short nails against the hard red top. She smiles at me, but her eyes flash with something pretty close to annoyance. For some reason, it’s strangely thrilling that I’ve managed to piss her off, even just a little. She’s beautiful as it is, but I bet she’d be insanely gorgeous when she’s all fired up with righteous dating wrath.
“That’s not true at all. It isn’t about passing or failing. It’s not a test. If you recall, I said it was a dry run for your future dates. I’m trying to help you succeed. I’m not judging you. I’m trying to provide constructive criticism, which is really just suggestions.” I think Rowan is done, but then she mutters something about entitlement under her breath and takes a gulp of water.
Yup. She hates me. She thinks I’m just some rich kid with the clichéd silver spoon stuck up my butt—oh wait, I think it’s supposed to be my mouth. Whatever. She can hate me if she wants. She’s clearly pissed that she could lose her job over this, and so far, I’ve done nothing but fuck it up. This isn’t actually about me. It’s about her. I’m about to call her on it too, but she reaches into her tote—which is tucked on the red vinyl bench seat beside her—and pulls out a set of books. She slides them across the table.
I glance at the three titles dispassionately.
“Relationship and self-help. As promised,” Rowan announces smugly. “A lot of times, for a relationship to be successful, people need to work on themselves first and foremost.”
“Uh, says the lady who is single.”
Surprisingly, Rowan’s cheeks flush. Her hand is still sitting on the table, and I’m struck by the most absurd urge to reach out and caress her fingers with mine, just to see how soft her skin is. I think it would be a little bit like caressing a combination of rose petals and fresh-cut grass. Amazingly soft and silky, and the smell would damn near make
