Walking into the restaurant, I half expect for Dylan to not be here. We decided to meet at Cracker Barrel, a popular restaurant where there are always a few people. You can never be too safe.
I head inside, and look around for Dylan.
“Table for one?” the woman at the front asks.
“No, I’m meeting someone. For two, please.”
She picks up two menus, and I follow her while keeping an eye out in case Dylan’s already here. I should’ve told him I’d meet him outside.
A few moments pass, and I begin to worry when he doesn’t arrive. I check the time on my phone, and frown. He’s only five minutes late, I say to myself.
Tapping my fingers, I look around Cracker Barrel. There are families and couples all sitting and enjoying their meals. I feel self-conscious being the only person sitting on their own.
I check my phone again. He’s ten minutes late.
It makes me feel better to know Tina and Preston are only a couple of streets away and can be here in a moment.
Rejection takes over from the worry, and I’m feeling hurt and abandoned. I wish Zhen was here with me. He’d put his head on my lap, and the hurt would instantly melt away.
Twelve minutes late.
I’m not going to sit here like a fool. I’ll give him three more minutes, and then I’ll delete his number and block his ass.
I look up and see Dylan standing at the hostess counter. He looks around, sees me, says something to the waitress, and walks toward me.
Right away I see a black smudge on his face. And then the same black is on the front of his jeans too.
I’m not sure what to think. Why’s he so dirty?
He approaches the table, sets his phone and car keys down on it and says, “I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll explain when I get back. I’m so sorry I’m late.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. He dashes off behind me, leaving only his belongings on the table. I don’t feel rejected now, but I have no idea what’s happening.
Am I being punked? I look around the restaurant in case I see a camera inconspicuously placed somewhere.
I look over the menu, but my mind is traveling so fast, I can’t concentrate on it. I’m in a whirlwind of emotions.
“I’m sorry,” Dylan says as he slides into the chair opposite me. His face now clear of the black smudge. “I was trying to get here earlier, so I’d be waiting for you. But on the way, my car had a flat tire and I had to change it.”
“Oh,” I say. “Explains the black marks down the front of your jeans.”
“I couldn’t go home to change. Well, I could, but you would’ve been sitting here for another fifteen minutes. And I didn’t want that.”
“Right.” I look down at the menu. I fidget with my hands under the table.
“I’m really happy you agreed to come to dinner with me.” I smile, but don’t say anything.
My stomach is going nuts, and my pulse is hammering through my veins. How awkward. I’m such a mess. I want to say something, but I have no idea what to say.
“Tell me about what’s been happening. Last night you said you’ve had an eventful few days. What’s happening?” he asks. “Other than your eighteenth birthday.” He says eighteenth in a strained way, almost like he’s embarrassed way.
“Okay, let’s do this,” I say. He looks at me questioningly. “You’re still hung up about my age. So, how old are you?”
He gives me a small smile. “I’ll be turning twenty-seven soon.”
“Ew,” I say and scrunch up my nose. “I really shouldn’t be having dinner with such an old man.”
“I’m not that old,” he snaps.
“Then why are you hell bent on having an issue with my age, when you just said, ‘I’m not that old’?”
“You know, you’re nothing like anyone I’ve ever met before, Molly.”
“Good, because everyone else you’ve ever met hasn’t lasted.”
“How do you know?” he asks, defensively.
“Because you wouldn’t be sitting here with me now.”
Dylan says nothing, instead he stares at me. Looking hard into my eyes. I keep his gaze, refusing to back away. It takes him to the count of fourteen before he says, “You’re remarkable.”
“Yes, I am,” I agree.
He gives me another smile. This one tells me something else. It tells me the whole age gap thing isn’t going to be a problem for him for long. Hopefully.
“I know you turned eighteen. And I know you said you were adopted. What else can you tell me?”
I half shrug. “What do you want to know?”
“When were you adopted?”
“I was seven when I came to live with Thomas and Paris, but I call them Mom and Dad. They’re the only real parents I’ve ever known. What about you? You introduced me to your father. Where’s your mom?”
“She’s somewhere, with someone and her new family. By “new,” I mean I think I have two half-brothers. But I have no idea. She couldn’t handle being a mom, so she left.”
“And started a new family?” Dylan nods. “Ouch, that’s got to hurt.”
“It did when she left. But after a lot of therapy, and Dad stepping up and being not only my Dad but my Mom, too. I think I turned out okay.”
“Jury’s still out,” I say in a small voice. Dylan chuckles. “And you decided to be a security analyst? How did that happen?”
“I fell into the job. And thankfully, I love doing it. What do you want to do when you graduate? What college are you wanting to get into?”
“I’m not going to college, yet.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m taking a gap year.”
“What are you going to do? Travel? See the world?”
“I don’t do well if I’m out of my comfort zone, so no travel for me. I’m going to work. I teach yoga one day a week at one of the gyms’ to kids under sixteen.”
“You like yoga? That’s cool.”
“Yeah, I find it keeps me grounded.”
“Do you like movies?”
“I prefer music to movies. I fall asleep watching them. I also have two dogs. Zhen, he’s my Labrador. And as of very recent, I have another dog, Zorro.”
“Zhen and Zorro. What type of dog is Zorro?”
“The vet said he’s a Boxer cross with who knows what.”
“What about where you got him from? They couldn’t tell you what breed he is?”
“Yeah, that’s a story in itself.”
“Hi, welcome to Cracker Barrel. Are you ready to order?” the waitress asks.
“I’ll have the Barrel Cheeseburger, and a side order of fries, please.” I hand her the menu once I’ve ordered.
“And I’ll have the grilled sirloin steak with house salad and fries. I’ll have my steak well-done, please.”
The waitress takes the menus and leaves.
“You were telling me about Zorro.”
I recap what happened at the dog park. I watch as Dylan’s jaw tightens, and his brows furrow together. When I finish, he clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Are you okay?” I ask.