I laughed. “It’s all right. Free food is good food.”
“So you’re not eating with me because you think I’m hot?”
I shook my head, grinning in spite of myself. Stranger or not, Caleb was Caleb.
“Tell me about yourself,” he said. “What’s your name?”
I shook my head. “No names.”
“Mysterious girl.” He clucked his tongue. He slid a plate in front of me and placed two pieces of pizza on it. “Eat.”
It was fascinating the way Caleb ate—savoring each bite like it was fine French cuisine rather than local pizza. Sure, he ate like a guy, taking way-too-big bites, but at least he chewed with his mouth closed.
Perfect table manners must have been instilled in him at an early age, I realized.
“So, tell me, Mysterious Girl,” he started, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “What makes you feel special?”
I bit my lip, thinking. Should I answer honestly?
“I guess when someone takes care of me. Giving me rides to school, buying me green tea…cooking me pancakes.”
He was quiet for a moment, a smile playing on his lips as he took another bite and chewed quietly. He swallowed before asking, “Are you allergic to anything?”
“No, not really.” I paused. “Are you?”
He chuckled, nodding. “Peanut butter.”
My eyes widened in horror. “Oh my God, Caleb, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know—” I stammered, breaking role. My favorite food was peanut butter. It was a staple for me, and it was currently sitting in his fridge.
He shook his head, laughing. “It’s all right, Red. I can have it in the house. It’s only a mild allergy, and only if I eat it. So don’t kiss me after you eat it.”
I shook my head, incredulous that he hadn’t told me this before.
“So,” he began. “Granny panties, boy shorts, or thong?”
And he was back. We went on asking each other questions, sometimes serious, sometimes ridiculous. He asked a lot of inappropriate questions, but in his own goofy way.
I felt full after the pizza, but Caleb insisted we try the ice cream. He bought us strawberry ice-cream cones dipped in chocolate, and we ate them as we walked in the park.
We couldn’t finish them and ended up throwing them out.
It was late, but both of us were in no hurry to go home yet. He reached for my hand and dragged me
down with him on the grass.
“I’m so stuffed I feel like a hippopotamus that ate an elephant.” He patted his flat stomach.
I laughed, trying to picture that. How could he eat so much and still have sexy abs? “Hippos are normally herbivores,” I told him. “But there have been reports of them actually eating meat. So fine, you are a hippo that ate an elephant.”
“My smarty-pants Red. Your brain is so sexy, such a turn-on.”
I laughed. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed this much. We grew quiet. We lay on the grass for a long time, comfortable in our silence, just holding hands and looking up at the dark, velvet sky.
Away from the city, the stars decorated the heavens, complementing the romantic radiance of the moon. The air was just beginning to cool down from the heat of the day. I smelled the grass, sharp and fresh. Wild lavender and dandelions were deemed weeds in the city, but in this place, they were special—magical even.
That was how Caleb made me feel. I was nothing but a normal girl to other people, a weed, but to Caleb I was magical and special, just like the flowers that spread with abandon on the ground.
Turning onto my side so I was facing him, I whispered, “Thank you for this night, Caleb.”