A Nightmare's Fate

It's a Date

Chapter Thirty-seven: It's a Date

After visiting Kenton, I left the cemetery and went straight to the house to get the car and go off to Shaulls; Errik’s restaurant. As I get out and walk inside, the same host that acquainted me before, stands and says, “He’s in the kitchen.” No matter how many times he speaks, his Boston accent always gives me shocked expressions like I have never heard of anyone speak in an accent before.

            Nodding, I pace my way through the black curtains and into the dining area as the sound of the piano playing bursts into my ears. A gorgeous sound it is, it makes my smile grow even wider than it already is. As my eyes scan the accommodation, people dressed up in fancy clothing or somewhat extravagant fabric, are all over the room and their conversations mix with the piano.

            Walking towards the back where the kitchen is, my hearts pounds within my chest and I can’t stop myself from grinning; but I don’t want to stop. That’s the problem. Why can’t my smile discontinue? Because you’re ready to move on, the voice in my mind says. You’re recovered, Raven.

            Opening the door, men and women in chef and cooking outfits dash around the area in a hurry to get the orders done. Walking through, I hope to not get in the way of everyone and their work, so I stay in one spot and try to identify Errik. But all I see are his colleagues. “Hey Rave,” says Hannah, one of the cooks. “If you’re looking for the chef, he’s in the fridge.” With a nod and smile, I mumble thanks to her and we both go in separate directions.

            Opening the entry way, I slide through and close it behind me. With an awkward grin, I wave to him and say, “Hello . . .”

            Standing up to hug me, he asks, “What are you doing here?”

            “I visited Kenton’s grave . . .” I answer honestly. “I wanted to say goodbye.” The words come to me easily, and for what purpose? I don’t know. Originally, I would act so sad and now, I’m so nonchalant and it feels strange to admit that to myself. “I want to move on, and I want to do it with you by my side.”

            Kissing me, his palms touch my neck as my arms wraps around his own. After a few moments, he let goes and we stare at each other for a while. “So . . .” he begins, his brows arching but our eye contact doesn’t break.

            “Would you like to go out with me?” I finally ask, and he chuckles.

            “I though the male was supposed to ask that?” he says, kissing me once more, and the feeling of our lips grazing against one another’s is like nothing that really happened to Kenton and me.

            “Not all the time,” I announce, standing on my tiptoes and kissing the side of his eye for no apparent reason.

            Giggling, he answers, “Of course I will.”

            “Then it’s a date—” He cuts me off by another kiss.

            Letting go, he says, “I will pick you up at twelve, since the restaurant doesn’t close until eleven thirty; is that okay?”

            “Yes it is. I’ll be ready by then; don’t be late.” With that, I leave the accommodation and head back to the car.

            Sitting inside, my mind goes back to the gravestone and at first, I shudder, but after thinking of the state I used to be in because of his death, I smile. It is time to move on and Errik has really helped me throughout the year. I believe that he came at the right time and I really love how he has stuck around; how he hasn’t judged me and has cared about me. I love him. I truly do.