We had exchanged numbers after that first lab, knowing we’d need to get in touch with each other for assignments and stuff. I figured since they used to live in this town, if anyone would know where to find me it would be Levi. Plus, I didn’t really have any other options.
It didn’t take long before a Black Subaru Forester pulled up near me. I waited since I couldn’t see through the car’s tinted windows and I didn’t want to accidentally get into a car with a complete stranger, but Levi got out right away. He walked over to me but stopped about three feet away.
“I guess you could say you told me so,” I said, giving him a wan smile.
He didn’t say anything, but his look was sympathetic as he opened the car door for me and I got in. He walked around back to his side, slid in and started the car. The radio was set to some rock station but he turned it off. He drove for about three minutes before asking, “So where am I taking you?”
I hadn’t really thought about that. It was only nine-thirty. If I showed up home now my mother would know that something went wrong and she’d give me the third degree and I so did not want that.
“I don’t know,” I said.
I frowned, thinking of the fake date that Asher had planned. It might have been corny but it certainly would have been preferable to this mess.
“I didn’t know this was what he had planned. Asher told my mom we were going to go see the Grease sing-along and then we were going to get ice cream.”
To his credit, Levi didn’t laugh. He just looked at me and said, “Well then let’s go get some ice cream.”
He looked at me expectantly and I nodded. After fifteen minutes we were back in our town on Franklin Street. He pulled up in front of Maguire’s, an old-fashioned ice cream parlor, parked and ushered me in.
It was a cute place. I hadn’t been here in years since they only sold actual ice cream and my mother was more of the frozen yogurt type. They had a counter with red vinyl barstools and red vinyl booths, and the waiters and waitresses wore red and white pinstriped shirts with those dorky, white paper hats that you saw in old-time movies where someone had a soda shop.
We sat ourselves in a booth and a tired-looking waitress who must have been in her early sixties came over and put two menus on the table.
They served burgers and other types of diner food too, but I decided on ice cream. Considering this was the only date I’d ever been on, and it was terrible, it seemed appropriate to drown my sorrows in a big bowl of cold, creamy fat and sugar.
Levi didn’t say anything. We just looked at our menus until the waitress came back.
“I’ll have the banana split with one scoop of dark chocolate, one scoop of double chocolate and one scoop of chocolate heaven. No whipped cream, please. Extra chocolate syrup. And no banana unless it’s really ripe. Thanks. Oh, and a glass of water please.”
Levi looked at me in surprise for a second before placing his own order. “I’ll just have a decaf cappuccino made with low-fat milk please. And a glass of water for me, too. Thanks.”
We handed our menus to the waitress and I looked at him. “Cappuccino? No, wait, decaf cappuccino? Made with low-fat milk? That’s the best you can do in an ice cream parlor? Live a little, why don’t you?”
