Ten
1604 Words
Leah texted me on Thursday afternoon.
Food at 7. Don’t be annoying.
I smiled at my phone and tried to act normal. I failed. I typed a reply, deleted it, typed again, then settled on something simple.
Okay. Where.
Her reply came fast.
Mall. By the place with the good chips.
I got there early. I told myself I was early because parking could be a problem. Parking was not a problem. I walked around the mall like I had somewhere to be, then circled back to the spot she mentioned and waited.
At 6:58 I saw her.
She walked straight toward me like she knew exactly where I would be. Jeans, a plain top, glasses on, hair tied back. Cardigan folded over her arm instead of worn. That alone felt like effort.
“You’re early,” she said.
“So are you,” I replied.
“I’m on time,” she corrected.
“Okay,” I said. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she replied. Then she looked at my face and added, “Don’t smile like that.”
I tried to stop smiling. I did not.
“I’m just happy you came,” I said.
Leah’s eyes narrowed. “I told you to come.”
“That’s still you choosing me,” I said.
She sighed like she didn’t want to deal with my logic, then turned and started walking. I followed.
We walked past a few places and she didn’t hesitate. She stopped at a simple restaurant with normal lighting and normal prices. It was busy but not loud.
“This one,” she said.
I looked at the sign. “This is very normal.”
“It’s food,” she replied. “Food is normal.”
We walked in and got seated at a small table. Leah sat down and opened the menu immediately. I picked mine up too, but I kept looking at her.
She noticed.
“What,” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
“You’re doing it,” she replied.
“Doing what.”
“Looking at me like I’m going to run away,” she said.
I lowered my voice. “I’m not doing that.”
“You are,” she insisted.
“Okay,” I admitted. “I’ll stop.”
She nodded once, satisfied, then went back to the menu.
A waiter came and asked if we were ready. Leah asked a question about the sauce. Then she asked another question. The waiter answered politely. Leah nodded like she approved.
When the waiter left, I said, “You interview the menu.”
“I don’t like surprises,” she replied.
“It’s sauce.”
“It can ruin food,” she said.
“That’s true,” I admitted. “You’re serious about food.”
“I’m serious about money,” she corrected.
I smiled. “Also fair.”
I ordered something simple. Leah ordered something even simpler. When the waiter walked away, she looked at me.
“This is not a date,” she said.
I stared at her. “It is.”
“It’s food,” she replied.
“And you asked me to come,” I said.
“I told you to come,” she corrected again.
“That’s a date,” I said.
“It’s not,” she said.
“It is,” I repeated.
Leah leaned forward slightly and lowered her voice. “If you keep calling it that, I will regret coming.”
I leaned back. “Okay. It’s not a date.”
She nodded. “Good.”
Two minutes passed.
I couldn’t help myself. “So what is it.”
Leah looked at me like I was slow. “Eating.”
“With me,” I added.
She stared.
I held my hands up. “Okay. Eating.”
Our food arrived. Leah took one bite and nodded, quiet approval. That made me relax more than I wanted to admit. If Leah was happy with food, the whole evening had a better chance.
She pointed her fork at my plate. “Let me taste.”
“You’re not even asking,” I said.
“I’m asking,” she replied, then took a bite before I could answer.
“You stole,” I said.
“You offered,” she replied.
“I didn’t offer.”
“You were going to,” she said, like she knew my thoughts.
I laughed. “Leah, you are not innocent.”
“I never said I was,” she replied, then took another bite.
I watched her and shook my head. “So you came here for my food.”
She finally smiled properly. “Yes.”
“That hurts,” I said.
“It shouldn’t,” she replied.
We ate and talked in a normal way. School. Work. Small frustrations. Funny stories about people. She told me about a girl in her class who asked for notes every week and never shared anything back.
“I stopped giving her,” Leah said.
“Good,” I replied. “That’s growth.”
Leah’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”
I laughed. “Okay.”
I told her about a guy who used “as per” in every sentence like it was a personality.
Leah shook her head. “That is annoying.”
“That’s what I said,” I replied.
She took a sip of her drink. “You also talk too much.”
“Not today,” I said. “Today I’m behaving.”
Leah looked at me. “You’ve said ten sentences in the last minute.”
“That’s not too much,” I argued.
“It is,” she replied.
I smiled. “You still came.”
She didn’t respond to that. But she didn’t look annoyed either.
Halfway through eating, I noticed she had relaxed. Her shoulders were lower. Her face wasn’t tight. She was present, not guarded. It didn’t mean everything was fixed, but it meant this moment was good.
I tried not to ruin it.
I lasted two minutes.
“You look nice,” I said again, quietly.
Leah froze for a second like she hadn’t expected it a second time.
“Don’t start,” she said, but her voice was softer than earlier.
“I’m not starting,” I replied. “I mean it.”
She looked down at her plate. “Thank you.”
I smiled but kept quiet.
When we finished eating, I offered to pay.
“No,” Leah said instantly.
“Leah,” I replied. “Let me.”
“No,” she repeated.
I tried a different approach. “I invited myself.”
She looked at me. “That’s true.”
“So I pay,” I said.
She shook her head. “I asked you to come. I pay.”
I sighed and leaned back. “Okay.”
Leah reached for her bag, pulled out her card, and handed it to the waiter before I could argue again.
After the waiter left, I said, “Next time I pay.”
Leah paused. “Next time.”
I smiled. “So there will be a next time.”
She stared at me, then said, “Don’t make it a big thing.”
“I’m not,” I replied.
“You are,” she said.
“I’m just happy,” I admitted.
Leah looked away. “Be happy quietly.”
“I will try,” I said.
She raised her eyebrows.
“I will be happy quietly,” I corrected.
Leah nodded like that was acceptable.
We left the restaurant and walked through the mall slowly. Leah didn’t rush to her car. That was new. We passed shops, people, noise, music. She stayed close to me. Not touching, but close enough that I could feel she wanted the closeness without making it obvious.
I didn’t grab her hand. I waited.
At one point she stopped at a shop window and looked at something small and random, a mug with a quote on it. It was cheesy.
She pointed at it. “That’s stupid.”
“It is,” I agreed.
She kept staring. “It’s also kind of funny.”
“You want it,” I said.
“No,” she replied too quickly.
“You do,” I said.
Leah turned to me. “If you buy it, I will not accept it.”
“Okay,” I said. “I won’t.”
She nodded and kept walking.
Outside, the air was cooler. Leah put her cardigan on. We walked to her car. When we got there, she stopped and faced me.
“This was okay,” she said.
“That is high praise from you,” I replied.
“It was fine,” she said.
“It was more than fine,” I replied, then caught myself. “Okay. It was fine.”
Leah looked satisfied. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” I replied.
She hesitated, then stepped forward and kissed me quickly. It was short, but it wasn’t rushed. She meant it.
Then she pulled back and said, “Don’t smile like that.”
“I can’t help it,” I admitted.
She narrowed her eyes. “Go.”
I took one step back, then stopped. “Leah.”
“What,” she asked.
“Thank you for coming,” I said.
Her face tightened like she didn’t want to feel too much about it. “Okay.”
Then she got into her car and drove off.
I walked home smiling anyway, because she could tell me to stop all she wanted, but she still kissed me first.
That mattered.
- Writer
