"I didn't want to cause mass confusion in the kitchen. I figured it would be easier if they just had to remember one crazy order twice." I get a Coke and lead her to a table. "Plus that, I'm not picky about food, and I have a feeling you know how to order a good meal."
"One of my many talents." She sits back in her chair and smoothes a piece of long, dark hair between her fingers. "I'm not sure we should be on this date. I'm not sure this is such a good idea."
"It's not." I watch her eyes and lips shift down.
She balls up her straw wrapper and flicks it across the table at me. "Why are we here then?"
"We met in court. I don't think we qualify as good decision makers."
I'm trying to keep things light, but she looks more and more restless, and I realize this date is still on serious probation, no matter how crazy-amazing our kiss was.
Before I can pull together something to show how our being together on this date makes sense, our number gets called and I bring our heaping piles of food back to Evan, who's wriggling with excitement like a little kid.
Lala, my ex, smoked and chewed a lot of gum, which tended to translate into her never being hungry. That was true for most of my exes, so I'm not really prepared for Evan's undisguised enjoyment of this monstrous burger. Or how much it turns me on.
She closes her eyes and chews slowly, moaning a little around her mouthful of food.
"Oh. Oh my sweet baby Jesus. Even if we never go on another date, I will always remember this burger fondly."
The way she relishes every bite of this food makes it hard for me to take my eyes off of her and pseudo distracts me from the fact that she maybe said we wouldn’t be going on any more dates.
"Seriously? All it takes is one burger to make a horrible date with me worth it?"
"It's an amazing burger. But I have a food history with them anyway." She points to the burger, gushing ketchup and mayo and all kinds of vegetables out of the bun, and shakes her head. "My dad has a gambling addiction. Whether his horses won or lost, he always took me out for a burger. At first, it would turn my stomach if it wasn't a win. But, after enough losses, I figured out that I'd tear my stomach to shreds if I worried like that. So all I concentrated on was the burger. Now it's one of those foods I can eat no matter how awful I feel."
She takes another huge bite and keeps her eyes on the napkins she has balled in her fist.
I imagine her wolfing down burgers as a kid, first all nervous, then with stubborn determination. A weird kind of pride jumps to life in me at the thought of her being that incredibly courageous in the face of what had to be a pretty shitty situation with her father. "Alright. I get that. In a screwed up way, it makes a lot of sense."
She leans her head to the side and narrows her eyes at me. "Really? Because I think it's kind of weird."
And, because I've fucked up so much on this date, I take a big step forward and loosen the disguise I wear for everyone else. Because she makes me want to strip away the stupid mask I hold up for everyone else and just be honest. Be myself.
For once.
"It's my thing to be cool," I start. She gasps out a laugh, biting her lower lip to stop it in its tracks. "Alright, smartass, not in front of you, obviously. But, generally, I keep my cool. I...handle things. When shit gets crazy, gets out of control, I step in and sort things out. So I get exactly what you're saying. Sometimes I gotta drink when I'm not thirsty or stay up when I want to sleep or laugh with a big group of idiots when I want to sit in a dark room and just think."
Saying it is like ripping the curtains down and throwing the windows open in some hidden, secret room I've been trapped in for years. My heart runs crazy laps around my chest.
"Are you a secret agent?" she demands, wiping a smear of ketchup from her mouth with a napkin and leaning across the table, close to me, her eyes laughing.
I think about how what I do was part of what made Lala and all the girls before her so hot for me. I wonder if it would turn Evan on if she understood more. Or if she'd run the other way as fast as she could.
I crumple up my hamburger wrapper. "Uh, no."
She dumps the fries out on a spread of napkins in front of us. "Super hero?"
"You met me in court." I drag a few fries through the ketchup and watch her chew and wonder.
"A misunderstood super hero?" she asks between bites. When I don't say anything, she presses, "Like Magneto?"
"You like the X Men?" I try to tone down my total shock.
I'm aware that there are tons of girls who do like the X Men, but none of my ex-girlfriends ever did. Evan is completely different than any other girl I’ve ever been with in every possible way, and I love it.
I’m shocked just how much I love it. I thought I knew exactly my type when it came to girls, but it winds up I had no idea. Or maybe I just don’t have a type; because I can’t imagine anyone else like her, and I can’t imagine wanting to be with anyone but her.
She looks legitimately surprised. "Of course. Everyone likes the X Men." I remember Lala whining through the last X Men movie we watched and choose to ignore Evan's inaccuracy and listen to her maniac explanation instead. "Magneto will never be
