Hi there!  This is a continuation of my short story, “Second Date”.  If you haven’t read the first part, you can read it here “Second Date”.  If you’re unfamiliar with the short stories I’ve written so far and you want to start from the very beginning, you’ll want to read Blind Date, Part One and Blind Date, Part Two before you start “Second Date”.

Vanessa Monroe

Monday, July 3

I ponder over what’s ahead of me while I sit in the museum parking lot. My friends and my sister gave me their opinions, but at the end of the day, I need to do what’s best for me. I’m no better than Kento if I make a decision based on what everyone else thinks.

They didn’t feel the electricity that flowed through my body every time he touched me. They weren’t there for the date or the aftermath. At this point, it’s best I share as little as possible with anyone. I can’t afford to have their opinions cloud my judgment. Besides, I want to see what happens next.

I drive over to the local market to pick up some ingredients to make a vegetable lasagna. I pass by moms pushing strollers, a couple of bicyclists, and hipsters talking on their cell phones. I park in an empty space half a block from the market.

The store is loaded with people, but I won’t be here long. I pick up a box of whole wheat lasagna noodles. I remember I need zucchini, so I trek over to the produce section. I examine several stalks, trying to select the one that’s just right.

“Vanessa?” I stop mid-inspection. I know that suave voice. My name still sounds the same coming from his mouth.

“I thought that was you,” he says as I turn to brace myself for the onslaught of emotions.

“Hi, Brandon,” I say calmly to my ex-fiancé. My heart pumps anger through my bloodstream, but I manage to put a pleasant smile on my face.

“How’ve you been?” he asks, like we don’t share a tempestuous history.

“I’m doing well.” I don’t bother asking how he’s doing. Frankly, I don’t care, and I can’t bring myself to.

“I still think about you from time to time.” His brown eyes seem sincere, as does his toothy smile. “I thought about calling you.”

My eyebrows knit together as my eyes narrow. “Why?”

He stammers, “Ju- just to see how you’re doing. I’m sorry for how things turned out, but I really did love you. I still do.”

Just like that, memories of our past course through my mind. I remember the good times, when he was attentive. As soon as a good memory pops up, it’s immediately replaced by a bad one. The times he stood me up for work. Oh, how quickly his job took my place. Well, it wasn’t his job, it was his co-worker, Karen, a mediocre-looking redhead. She took my spot, and he was happy to let her do it.

I hope I’m not repeating the same cycle with Kento. He doesn’t seem like the cheating type, but neither did Brandon. They never do when you first meet them. It’s only after the chase is over, when they get bored with you and move on to something fresh and new.

“Brandon,” I interrupt. “It was nice seeing you, but I’ve moved on with my life. You should, too.”

He leans back, blinking rapidly. The smile he used to give me when he wanted something disappears. I face the row of vegetables, giving him an excellent view of my ass. He’s still standing behind me as I select the longest zucchini I can find. Then I stroll toward the checkout, switching my hips. He’s going to love me forever.

 

 

Mark and I are back at the museum, wrapping up for the day. We’re both pleased with ourselves. It’s been a long week, and I’m exhausted.

“That went well,” Mark says, snapping his briefcase shut.

“Yeah, better than I expected.” I catch a glimpse of my cell phone and notice a missed call. “I hope we get their support. This artist really needs it, and it would boost patronage at the museum.”

“Vanessa, it was really nice working with you on this project,” he says. “Would you like to grab a drink to celebrate?”

This is unexpected. Mark seemed so antisocial when I first met him. Now, when I look at him, his shoulders are no longer tight. His face is more relaxed, smoothing the edges in his square jaw. His gray eyes are brighter. He’s actually quite handsome. If it were another time, maybe another place, I’d take him up on his offer.

“Thanks, Mark. It was a pleasure working with you, as well,” I smile, “but I really need to head home. I have some unfinished business I need to resolve.”

“Well, maybe next time.” His kind smile reveals a dimple in his left cheek. He really is attractive, but he’s not Kento.

“Maybe.” I grab my bags and head for the door.

I walk quickly through the lobby. The driver the museum hired is waiting outside. I wave when he looks in my direction. He takes my bags, opening the door for me. I get in anxious to return home.

 

 

Monday, July 3

My cell vibrates across the dining room table while I purée the butternut squash for the filling. Wiping my hands, I reach for the phone and see Kento’s number flash across the screen. I have yet to program his number. I’m waiting to see if he’s worth a place in my contacts list.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Hey, Vanessa.” It’s been several days since I’ve heard his low-pitched voice.

“Hi, Kento. I had been meaning to call you today. Thank you for the flowers.” I brought them home and set them in the middle of my kitchen table. I lean over and inhale their fragrance for the umpteenth time today. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome.” I sense him smiling on the other end. “I hope you like them.”

“I do. They’re my favorite.” I lay my apron on the table as I take a seat. “How did you know?”

“When I was in your office last week, I saw a photo of you holding them. It was sitting on the small bookshelf below the window.”

“You noticed that?” I ask. “I forgot about that photo. It was a candid shot the photographer took of me at my sister’s wedding.”

When Nate and Alicia were married, she let her maid of honor and bridesmaids pick our own bouquets. I chose burgundy roses.

“It’s a beautiful photo of you,” he says softly.

This is different from the Kento I met at Mancini’s. Last week, that voice was responsible for some hurtful comments. However, from the moment he apologized, he’s been able to turn my insides to mush by saying the simplest things in the sexiest way. How does he do that?

I cross my legs as my body responds to the memory of his tender kisses. I quickly dismiss the fantasy of his full lips kissing other parts of my body. I want to be mad at him, but he makes it so damn hard.

He clears his throat. “I wanted to make sure we’re still on for Saturday.”

Here we are, the moment of truth. I agreed to give him a chance to make things up to me when he came by my job last Thursday. Since then, I’ve been wondering if this is the right thing to do. My sister and friends’ input hasn’t made things any easier.

“Are you having doubts?” he asks when I don’t answer.

“I’m not sure what I’m feeling.”

“If you want to cancel, I’ll understand,” he says sincerely. “But I hope you don’t.”

“I don’t want to cancel.” The tension in my body disappears as soon as the words leave my mouth. “You never did say what we’re doing.”

He perks up as he says, “It’s a surprise.”

I shut my eyes and rest my forehead on the back of my hand. “Oh no, Kento. I’m not in the mood for surprises.”

“I’m sure you’re not, but I want to take you someplace special.”

I assume we’re going to dinner or a play. “Should I wear a formal dress?”

“No,” he chuckles. “Wear a t-shirt or tank top with jeans or exercise pants and sneakers.”

He rattles it off like he didn’t just throw a curveball my way. I stare at my reflection in the sliding glass door. Tension returns to my neck and shoulders. My back is ramrod straight. My eyes are wide, worried, and tired. I’m beginning to hate surprises.

“What are we doing?”

He hesitates. “I know it may be too much to ask, but can you trust me?”

 

 

Just like earlier today, traffic is backed up. Sam, my driver, has the windshield wipers on full speed. The storm has brought everything to a halt. I can’t afford anymore delays. I check my phone, but there are no bars.

I feel Sam’s stare. “I know a few shortcuts.”

“You do? Can you take them, please?” I glance at him. “I want to get home as fast as I can.”

“Long day?”

“Long week,” I laugh. “I’m just anxious to see a familiar face.”

I look at the picture I took of Kento last Saturday when he wasn’t looking. He’s staring off into the distance. His ripped shoulders glisten in the sun. The tank top clings to his chest. His dark brown eyes are euphoric, like he’s in heaven. He’s beaming after what we just accomplished. I took several pictures that day, but this one’s my favorite because his guard is down and he looks so happy.

“Sounds like you have someone special waiting for you,” he says.

“I hope so.”

 

 

Saturday, July 8
Early morning

The sun is shining and the birds are chirping. The meteorologist promises today will be a hot one. Really, Mr. Weatherman? When is it not hot in L.A.?

Kento gave some obscure dress code, but it’s too hot for jeans. I wish he’d just tell me what we’re doing.

I’m so glad I got my hair braided. I don’t have to do anything to it or worry about the heat drying it out. My scalp isn’t as sore as it was a few days ago, but I still don’t want to put it up in a ponytail. I’ll take a hair tie just in case.

I decide on a yellow, loose tank top, black racerback sports bra, black yoga pants, and yellow sneakers. Hopefully it’s sufficient. I grab a light jacket. This outfit makes me feel like I’m going to the gym. We better not be going to the gym. I perk up when the idea of zip lining or hiking comes to mind. Neither of those activities are typical dates, but I’d love to go zip lining.

Since it’s going to be hot, and I get the feeling we’re doing some sort of outdoor activity, I don’t bother putting on a lot of makeup. When I first went out with Kento, I had on a full face, thanks to Tabitha. I prefer my makeup to be as natural-looking as possible. I hope he’s okay with my moderate approach today. I put on black waterproof mascara and a dark red matte lip gloss. I finish off the look with a pair of small, gold hoop earrings.

I pose in front of the mirror, trying to get an idea of how good I look at every angle. I’m probably showing more skin than what’s allowed on a second date, but he practically told me to wear exercise clothing. Worse case, I’ll put on the jacket and suffer through the heat.

The doorbell rings, causing Cairo to stir. He barks under his breath and trots ahead of me. As usual, he gets to the door before me. I unlock it while holding him back with my leg.

“Hi,” I say while trying to keep my dog at bay.

Kento’s six foot two muscular frame fills the doorway. He’s wearing a white tank top and beige cargo shorts with a green baseball cap on backwards. He looks delicious. Good lord, what are you doing to me? Something’s different about him. Before I can figure out what, Cairo starts howling.

“Come in!” I pull my dog away.

I shush Cairo, but he’s not having it. His singing fills the entire house.

Kento winces and covers his ears. “What is that?”

“His bark.”

“Your dog howls? That’s different.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about this.” I snap my fingers at Cairo, but he ignores my command for him to sit. “I should’ve put him outside. He tends to act this way around unfamiliar people.”

“It’s okay.” Kento sticks his arm out toward the noisy pooch.

Cairo stops yodeling long enough to sniff his hand. If Kento turns out to be the dog whisperer, then no matter what happens today, I’m definitely keeping him around.

As soon as I get my hopes up, Cairo starts yodeling again. Then he lets Kento pet him, which is oddly amazing. Cairo doesn’t let anyone touch him when he first meets them. Just when I think he’s warming up to Kento, he backs away and stands between us.

Kento scans my living room. “This is a really nice home.”

“How do you know?” I smile. “I haven’t shown you around yet.”

Laughing, he says, “I love how it’s decorated. Is burgundy your favorite color?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Eh, just a little,” he chuckles.

I watch him scan the living room. Everything that’s deep red stands out more than ever. The throw pillows on the cream sofa. The ceramic vases I made a couple of years ago. The small blanket folded over the back of the arm chair. I have an obsession with burgundy. I try not to have too much of it in my home, but it’s not hard to guess it’s my favorite color. Oddly, it took my ex-fiancé almost a month to figure it out.

Kento walks over to the fireplace with his hands in his pockets. He stares at the black and white photos along the mantle. The informal photos are of Alicia and me through the years. We’re laughing in every single one of them. That’s the epitome of our relationship.

“Is that your sister?”

“Yeah, that’s Alicia.” I stand beside him.

He inhales deeply, then asks, “Does she know about what happened?”

So that’s why he’s giving special attention to these photos. He’s worried about Alicia.

“Mmhmm.”

He closes his eyes, biting his bottom lip. “I have my work cut out for me.”

“Yes, you do,” I smirk.

As he takes it all in, I notice what’s so different about him.

“You shaved off your goatee,” I blurt out.

“Uh, yeah.” He runs his hand across his smooth, angular jaw. “It’s been really hot lately, and I didn’t want to deal with the hassle.”

Where the goatee made him look mature and sexy, the absence of it makes him look younger and cuter. He’s still sexy, though. I fight the urge to touch his face. His eyes meet mine, and I smile.

“Is this okay for what we’re doing today?” My mood has picked up. Whatever apprehension I had before has faded away.

Slowly, he pulls his attention from my eyes to look at my clothes. Only I don’t think he’s actually looking at what I have on. There’s a long pause as his brown eyes trail from my chest to my hips, then my legs. A feeling of deja vu sweeps over me.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he clears his throat.

I really do like him without the goatee. The green ball cap gives him a charming, boyish appeal. I want to kiss him, but I don’t. It’s time for him to make the first move. Alicia’s right about one thing. Kissing him first made me look desperate.

“Okay, I’ll get my things then we can go,” I smile.

I pick up my purse, sitting on the chair, while Kento scratches Cairo behind the ears. Clearly, Cairo is torn between protecting me and giving into a total stranger who’s showing him affection. He never warmed up to Brandon. Maybe if I had followed the dog’s lead, I could’ve avoided another broken heart.

“I’m going to make sure everything is locked up first,” I say as I go into the kitchen.

Cairo doesn’t follow me. Yep, my dog has turned on me. When I walk back to the living room, Kento and my pooch are still playing.

Kento’s tall and solid as a rock from head to toe. His chest and arms beckon me to come closer, but I don’t. I’m not desperate. Horny, maybe, but not desperate.

My eyes travel down his torso to the front of his cargo shorts. I’m curious about what’s hidden beneath those shorts. Just as I’m about to get an idea, Kento looks up at me.

“Ready to go?”

I blush and avert my eyes. God, I hope he didn’t catch me. More importantly, God, I hope he’s packing.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

I lock up the house, leaving my traitor dog to his own devices. Kento walks ahead of me, exuding confidence with each step. He opens the front passenger door and I slide into the leather seat. I expected him to have a nice ride, but I didn’t expect a Lexus.

The charcoal gray exterior is immaculate, and the interior is so spotless I could eat off the floor. There are no signs an artist owns this car. This shouldn’t surprise me. Kento doesn’t seem like the type to leave anything out of place.

He sits in the driver’s seat, his long legs stretching out in front of him. He starts the car, backs out of my driveway, then speeds down the residential street. His arm brushes against mine as he places it on the arm rest.

I’m prepared to enjoy myself as I settle back in the seat, then I remember I have no idea where we’re going.

“So, you got me in your car.” I look at his profile. “My friends and family know I’m with you. You might as well tell me where we’re going.”

He grins, “You’ll see soon enough.”

I wonder if I should’ve just met him there. It’s not that I don’t feel safe, but after the last time, I’m not too fond of all the suspense.

He glances my way with that boyish smile and winks at me. I laugh, not at his response, but at how such a small act can soothe my fears.

I put my window down. The sedan zips in and out of lanes, going around slower moving vehicles. He handles the speed and the turns with ease. We make small talk along the way. He relaxes while we talk about our week. He tells me about his colleagues and students. He’s actually funny. I hear the excitement in his voice. Wherever we’re going must mean a lot to him.

We’ve been driving for over forty minutes before we turn off the main road. I look around to see if anything stands out as a possible date location. All I see are trees with huge rocks and mountains in the distance. Then we turn down a two lane road when I notice signs for camping. There are some other signs, but we zoom by so fast that I’m unable to read them.

“Where are we?”

“We’re almost there,” he assures me.

We must be going hiking. My sneakers won’t do if that’s the case. We pull into a parking lot. I look up at the sign to see the name of the establishment, and my jaw drops. I see people walking around with harnesses, ropes, and helmets. My mouth goes dry while my breathing intensifies. My heart beats out of my chest like a jackhammer.

“Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

To be continued…

 

Come back next Tuesday to find out what Kento has planned 😉.