Terry comes scrambling out of one of the doorways. She looks nice, in flared jeans and a T-shirt that shows a sliver of her belly. What is it about that tiny sliver of belly that’s so damned sexy? Though the thought isn’t for Terry. I’m remembering what Kelly wore the night we had Lasagna with Buck and Aspen. Better yet…Kelly naked, her eyes wide, her nipples sticking out…
“Hi, Leif. I see you’ve met Shauna.”
I compose myself and take a look around the tiny apartment. “Yes, she was telling me that five of you live here together.”
“Pretty cramped, right? We all get along really well. And don’t worry. I can leave a sock on the bedroom door.” She lifts her eyebrows.
Oh, God…
Not the sock on the bedroom door thing.
Yeah, this’ll be an early night.
Plus the fact that—as pretty as Terry is, and as nice as she looks tonight—I can’t get the visual of naked Kelly out of my mind.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“I thought we’d get some dinner.”
Except…I didn’t make any reservations. Damn. But there is one place I know where I can always get in.
“How does pizza sound?”
“I’m a little sensitive to gluten. I’ll have to have gluten-free crust.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have celiac disease?”
She shakes her head. “Oh no. I just try to stay away from it. Wheat belly and all.”
Wheat belly? Is that a term I should know? I decide not to press the issue because I don’t really care.
“Well…I can see if they offer gluten-free crust.”
“I’m sure they do. Most places do these days.”
“Good enough.”
We leave her apartment building and grab a cab, and I give the cabbie the address to my favorite pizza place. It’s in a more rundown area, but I can always get in.
Terry chatters in my ear during the cab ride, asking inane questions about my life, and when we finally get there, I’m glad for the reprieve. Service is quick here at Gianni’s Pizza, and once we get food, I’ll eat and I won’t have to talk.
“Leif!” Gianni’s brother, Mikey, greets me. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I’ve been in California,” I say, “but I’m back on a job now.”
“And who is this lovely lady?”
“This is Terry. Terry, this is Mikey. He’s the owner’s brother.”
“Your favorite table happens to be available,” Mikey says. “Follow me.”
My favorite table is in the back, out of the commotion. Gianni’s stays busy, but they always have a table available, especially for Buck and me. Most of their business is delivery and takeout.
The table is dark and secluded, with a candle burning in the center. It screams romance, and I’m not looking for that kind of evening.
I pull Mikey aside. “Can you give me a little light tonight?”
“Sure.” He glances at Terry. “You certain about that?”
“Yeah. I’m totally certain.”
“Good enough.”
Mikey slides two menus onto the table, and I—always a gentleman despite what I said to Kelly in anger—hold out the chair for Terry.
I take a seat, and true to Mikey’s word, within a few minutes the lights are brighter over the table.
Terry looks up. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. This is an old building. Wiring issues probably.”
A little white lie never hurts.
I open my menu, hoping that there is a gluten-free option. If there’s not, I’m going to have to find somewhere else for us to eat, and since I don’t have reservations, that will be an issue.
I scan the menu. Yes! At the bottom is an asterisk with “gluten-free option available” next to it.
Thank God.
“They do have gluten-free crust,” I say to Terry.
“But that does present a problem,” she says, “because you don’t want gluten-free crust and I do.”
“That’s no problem. We’ll get separate pizzas.”
Her eyes widen, showcasing her thick mascaraed lashes. “My goodness, I can’t eat a whole pizza myself.”
“Sure you can. Get a ten-inch. And if you don’t eat it all, you can take it home.”
She smiles at me. “You’re so smart. That’s a great idea.”
Really. I’m smart because I suggested she get her own pizza and take the excess home.
Wait until she finds out what I know about geopolitics. I’ll be a fucking genius. Not that I think that subject will come up.
A busboy comes by with glasses of water and sets them in front of us. “Your waiter will be with you soon,” he says before he leaves.
“So what kind of pizza do you like?” I ask.
“Vegetarian. I don’t eat meat.”
“Are you vegan?”
“No. I eat cheese and eggs. Only cheese really. I don’t like eggs.”
“I see. They have a lot of good toppings here.”
“Yeah…” She glances at her menu. “Since I’m getting my own gluten-free pizza, I think I’ll get artichoke hearts, black olives, and mushrooms.”
Ugh. That sounds awful. “Great. I’m getting pepperoni and sausage.”
“Such a man,” she gushes.
“I happen to know a lot of ladies who like pepperoni and sausage,” I counter.
“Yeah, but it’s kind of a man’s pizza, don’t you think?”
“No, not really.” I look down at my menu to have something to do. “Do you want a salad?”
“Yes, I think I’ll have a vegetable salad with oil and vinegar. Maybe a side of garlic bread.”
“That’s a lot of food.”
“But you said I could take it home.”
“True, I did. And you can.”
I hope she doesn’t think I’m being cheap. Then again, it doesn’t matter, because I really don’t care.
All I want is for this date to be over.
Because I’m a gentleman, I see Terry to the door of her apartment, and I carry her takeout container.
“I had a lovely time,” she says. “Thank you so much.”
“Yeah, it was fun.” I hand her the box holding her leftover pizza. “Good night.”
She smiles coyly. “Don’t you want to come in?”
I feign a yawn. “I can’t. Early day tomorrow.”
“Oh.” She looks down at the ground for moment.
I have no intention of seeing her again, but I don’t like hurting a woman’s feelings. I’m hoping she won’t push it.
“Anyway, good night,” I say again.
“Can we go out again?” she asks.
“I’ll call you,” I say.
“Okay. I look forward to hearing from you.”
But the tone of her voice says it all. She won’t be hearing from me, and she knows that.
I take her key from her, unlock the door, and give her a kiss on the cheek. “Good night.”
She nods simply and closes the door behind her.
I don’t like hurting a woman’s feelings. I shouldn’t have asked Terry out to begin with. Rather, I shouldn’t have accepted when she asked me. I’ve never gotten used to women asking men out. I’m kind of an old school Texan. I knew Terry and I weren’t right for each other, and I had a feeling she was too young for me—which turned out to be very true. She talked a lot about bands I’ve never heard of and how she and four roommates have pajama parties and pillow fights. Not my scene for sure.