The Truth About That Summer

forty

I hop into Ryan's truck, taking in his suntan and pretty eyes. The tan makes the color pop even more.

He's cute, it's a shame I'm not taking this date seriously.

"Cat got your tongue?" I quip, smirking at his gaze locked on my bra-less chest.

Adam's apple bobbing, Ryan quickly meets my stare. "You look... good." He gulps. "Really good."

Turning to put on my seatbelt, I roll my eyes out the window. "Glad I impress. So where are you taking me, Ryan?"

"Well, Dylan." He finally backs out of Grams driveway, "I thought we could go for dinner. I've heard the best place for surf-in-turf is right by the pier-"

"Harry's?" I scrunch my nose. "I don't like seafood."

Ryan's face falls as he stops at the intersection that will bring us to the pier. "You live by the ocean and you don't eat fish?"

"I know," I sigh. "I'm a conundrum."

"Okay, well that's fine." Ryan sounds unsure. "Where do you recommend, then? You know the good spots better than me, I'm sure."

I think for a second, trying to recall places we'd frequent without bringing certain faces to mind.

"Do you like burgers?"

"Who doesn't?" He replies easily.

"Great." I lean back, sticking my hand out the open window. "Take a right."

***

"And that," Ryan pulls a Cherry-stem from his mouth, "is how it's done."

His smirk is proud.

Silly boy.

Seductively slipping my tongue through my lips, I pluck my stem with my thumb and index finger. Holding it out so he can see it clearly, I reveal not one, but two perfectly tied knots.

"No, Ryan." I lap sweet cherry juice from my lips, "That is how it's done."

"How'd you do that?" His eyes shift from the stem to my mouth.

"Practice." A half-lie. Practice and Luke Henson as a teacher. He doesn't need to know that, though.

With a large gulp, he rasps. "Okay, you win."

Shoving my empty sundae dish to the center of the table, atop our empty burger and fry baskets, beside the couple of empty margarita glasses, I cross my arms over my chest.

"What do I win, exactly?" I ask, emboldened by my tipsyness.

Ryan smirks, reaching across the table to grab my wrist. Lacing his fingers through mine, he murmurs, "How about a kiss?"

Pulling my hand away, I stifle a chuckle. "Corny. And I'm pretty sure you were hoping to give me one of those anyway."

I lean forward, eyes teasing him as I bat my lashes.

Maybe I shouldn't, but at the moment, I'm having fun. My gaze trails down his strong jaw, his tan neck, down the straight line of his shoulders, the muscles straining beneath the cotton fabric of his tee.

Maybe having fun for one night wouldn't be so bad.

"Maybe you're right." Ryan laughs, beckoning our waiter to the table. "Are you ready to get going?"