The park isn’t far from my dorm room, a ten minute walk, but by the time I reach the park gates, I’ve talked myself in and out of the date idea so many times that my head is spinning. I don’t even notice Matt coming towards me until he’s right by my side.
He laughs when he sees my startled expression. “What? Did you expect me to stand you up?”
“No, but you might end up wishing you had.”
“And why would you think that? Don’t I strike you as the outdoors type?” Matt grins.
“Not exactly.” I let out a small chuckle, relaxing a little as I lead the way into the park. “But it’s not that. It’s — well, what we’re going to be doing isn’t going to be anything fancy.”
“You know, I’m starting to wish I’d had just taken you to McDonalds last night.” Matt smiles.
“Me too,” I admit.
“If it makes you feel any better, with my discount, the meal we had last night was about the same price as two Big Mac meals,” he says.
It shouldn’t matter, but his admission actually does make me feel better and I relax further. When Matt slips his fingers in between mine, I stop telling myself he’s going to hate the date and decide instead to just enjoy his company. If all else fails, I can always take him back to my dorm room and have my wicked way with him.
I lead Matt past a small duck pond and along a winding path through the flower beds. We pass a playing field full of young boys playing soccer, families picnicking together and couples walking dogs. It’s a beautiful spot, one I would normally consider a good place to sit and soak up the atmosphere and watch the world go by, but not today. Today, I want us to be somewhere a little more private. We keep walking until we come to a gated archway. I open the gate and we step through it into the vegetable garden. It’s quiet here, like I knew it would be. It’s where I come when I want to escape the noise of the city for a time, and I’m pleased it hasn’t let me down now. Matt and I make our way through the vegetable plot until we reach the other side of it where a solitary picnic bench sits.
“Here we are,” I say, gesturing to the bench.
I wish I had a picnic basket, but I don’t. What sort of student does? Instead, I pull the Prosecco and the strawberries from the shopping bag I’ve been holding. I go and put the bag in the trash and come back to the table. I pull a corkscrew out of my purse and hand it to Matt who grins at me. He shakes his head and opens the Prosecco with a flourish without taking the corkscrew. Of course. What was I thinking? Obviously, I was more nervous than I thought when I collected the things I thought we would need.
I watch as a thin spool of what looks like steam comes from the bottle’s neck. No foam spills out and I nod to Matt, impressed that he hasn’t wasted any.
“This isn’t my first rodeo Callie.” He laughs when he sees my approving expression.
I soon spot the first problem. Apparently, this is my first rodeo. Or at least it would seem that way as I bounce from issue to issue.
“I didn’t think to bring any glasses,” I say.
Matt shrugs and takes a swig from the bottle. He smiles and offers it to me. I laugh and take a sip. The bubbles tickle my mouth and throat and the warming effect as I swallow, calms me. Matt doesn’t seem to be judging me for my total lack of bottle opening knowledge and the lack of glassware isn’t bothering him, so why should I let it bother me? It’s actually kind of romantic in a way to share the bottle this way, my lips on the spot his occupied seconds before mine. We sit eating the strawberries, chatting about nothing in particular.
“You know Callie, you didn’t have to worry about this,” Matt says. “It’s perfect.”
“This is just the warm up,” I tell him.
He raises an eyebrow then winks suggestively, looking around him in an exaggerated manner. “Really? We’re going to do it in the shed?” He raises his eyebrows up and down.
I laugh. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I mean I have something else planned.”
“Do tell,” he says.
I pause. I wanted to keep it as a surprise, but I’m afraid if I give it too much build up, it won’t come even close to living up to the unintentional hype I’ll be creating. “I’ve booked us a cooking lesson. At the community center down the road.”
Matt grins and squeezes my knee beneath the table. “You know me so well,” he purrs.
I bite my tongue so I don’t blurt out what I’m thinking and ruin the mood. I don’t know him at all. Well, nothing except this one thing. Maybe though, when he sees me making an effort to plan things I know he’ll enjoy, he’ll open up and tell me more. “What can I say? It’s a skill.” I smile. “It’s called listening.”
Matt laughs and bites into another strawberry. What I wouldn’t give to be that strawberry right now. But we can’t do anything here. No matter how much I want to. This part of the park is quiet, but it’s still a public place. And despite Matt’s joke, there’s no way in hell I’m doing anything in a dusty, cobwebby shed.
We’re well over half way down the bottle of Prosecco and the strawberries are
