Today I Met The Girl I'm Going To Marry | jensoo

Chapter 30

Rosé arrives to clear our dinner plates and before she goes back to the staging area as Jennie called it, she turns to me. "Did you like your meal?" she asks in her Swedish accent that to be honest has lost some of its flair throughout the evening.

I blame the alcohol.

I can smell it on her breath and the fact that she's slurring a bit lets me know that her and Bobby are definitely doing more then just sampling the wine.

"I liked it a lot," I reply with a smile. I turn my head to look at my dinner companion and then I coyly add, "My compliments to the chef."

That's right, not only did Jennie plan this whole magical night just for me, but she also cooked all the food herself.

That's reason four hundred and fifty six that leads me to believe she's utterly perfect.

She made my favorite meal too.

Spaghetti and meatballs.

For me.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around that concept.

All this, the entire night, for me.

I want to ask her why.

Why she went through all this trouble just for me.

I want to ask her, but I don't.

I don't because I'm not really sure I'm ready to know the answer either way.

If it's purely out of friendship, that will probably disappoint me, and if she answers something else, an answer that implies something deeper, I'm not sure how I'd handle that.

All through the meal, our eyes have stayed on each other pretty much the whole time. Our looks seem to be more lingering, our words hiding other messages and there's an undercurrent of something I can't name quite yet.

My body tingles every time she gives me a compliment, my pulse quickens with every new revelation on how much effort went in to throwing me a prom and my nerves intensify as each second passes.

It's like we're building towards something.

A moment, a touch, a kiss.

Something.

It's hanging in the air above our heads but neither one of us addresses it.

I still believe there's a chance I'm seeing things that aren't there, but that belief is faltering slightly as our night progresses.

Whether it's wishful thinking or not, it feels like a change is happening between Jennie and me.

A change I'm not sure either one of us is ready for.

I don't want to be misunderstood-I'm having a blast, an utterly good time that I never want to end. All nights must end I know, how it ends is what provides the little anxiety that I acknowledge I'm feeling.

I don't want to do anything clumsy, I don't want to mess things up by reading too much into Jennie's actions and I don't want the happiness that's rushing through me to stop.

Jennie reaches for her glass and then she takes a big sip before addressing me. "How are you enjoying your night so far?"

I beam with happiness,. "I'm having such a good time."

I really am.

I want to make time stand still so I can bask in this night for as long as possible.

"What about you?" I ask.

"How could I not have a good time with you?" Jennie replies.

She really knows how to make me warm and fuzzy like no one else.