The Tourist Trap

Chapter 14

I sat in my chair at Raimundo's and watched Jared over top the menu. Ever since we were ushered to our table, he had been scanning the room -sizing it up.

Probably comparing it to all of the fancy restaurants and cool hangouts he frequented in the city.

I glanced around and tried to see what he was seeing as if for the first time.

The white tablecloths. The dark walls. The votive candles flickering on the table.  Was it as elegant to him as it was to me? Or was it all so "five minutes ago?"

"So? What do you think?" I asked him, closing my menu and setting it aside.

"It's nice," he said with a thoughtful frown."

"Not what you're used to, though. Right?" I asked.

"Oh no. I mean, there are millions of places like this in the city," he said.

The upstate girl in me immediately took this as an insult.

Raimndo's was the nicest restaurant we had for miles, but to him it was a dime to a million.

I took a deep breath and told myself to chill. After all, he wasn't trying to be critical. He was just from a whole different world. 

"The food does smell amazing," he said, taking a deep breath and smiling.

Okay, he was forgiven. And, damn, did he look good by candlelight. 

The waiter came over and took our order -chicken parmigiana for me and mussels marinara for Jared with an antipasto appetizer- and then we fell into an awkward silence.

He looked at me. I smiled and quickly glanced away.

I looked at him. He cleared his throat and stared at his water glass, running his fingers up and down its sides to clear the condensation. 

Hushed conversations and light laughter continued all around us and I felt like it was mocking me. Everyone else had something to talk about.

Why not us?

Alright, just say something, I willed myself. This is Jared Kent. There is probably a zillion and one things you could ask him.

"So, what would you do right now if you were in the city?" I asked him, leaning my elbows on the table. If there was one thing I even knew about boys, it was that they LOVED to talk about themselves.

Jared sat up a little straighter. "What would I be doing...?" he said, narrowing his eyes and rubbing his hands together. "Actually, my night probably wouldn't get started for at least another hour."

"Really? You guys eat late, huh?" I said.

"Yeah. Me and my friends would probably hit one of the restaurants on the East Side and have some food. Hang out for a while if there's a game on or if there's a scene," he said, clearly warming to his subject. "Then we'd probably-"

"I'm sorry. Go back for a sec. What qualifies as a 'scene'?"

"Oh, you know, it depends on whether there are any hot wo-" 

Jared looked at me and flushed. I flushed right back.

"Not that I pick up a lot of women or anything," Jared said quickly. "I don't. Not like my friends do. But having girls with you makes it easier to get into clubs." He cleared his throat again, looking sheepish.

I laughed. "Wait a minute, wait a minute. You, Jared Kent, have trouble getting into clubs?"

He bit his bottom lip. "No, actually. We're on VIP lists pretty much everywhere." He leaned forward, forearms on the table and laid some serious puppy dog eyes on me. "Listen, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I'm not a womanizer or something. My friends and I just like to have fun."