Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 54

"I'm glad you decided to come out with me, Julianna," he says with a smile. I smile back and reply, "Tell me about yourself then."

"I'm in my fourth year at Brown, studying early modern history," I tell him, and he smiles.

"What do you want to do after your fourth year?" he asks, and I just shrug.

"I plan to keep researching. Ideally, I'd like to do it at Brown and get my master's degree," I explain. "Then, maybe go to graduate school for a PhD or become a museum curator."

"That sounds like a good idea," I say with a smile, and he nods.

Looking at the menu, I see steak with fries. That's what I want, so I can use utensils and not look messy. I'm starving.

"Tell me about your job," he asks. I put my hands on my knees.

I've never been to this restaurant before, but it has white tablecloths, soft jazz, and candles on each table. It's expensive, and there are no prices on the menu. Lord help me.

"I told you I'm a software developer. After college, I worked at Google but wasn't appreciated or paid enough. So I asked my dad to help me get a job at AT&T."

"Wow," I mumble, impressed, and he nods. "Was your dad in software too?"

"No, he wasn't. Now he's retiring, and he just has many friends," he says, and I agree.

My parents had boring jobs, and I didn't have connections to get easy jobs.

"How do you like your job?" I ask, changing the subject.

"It's quieter. I'm starting to like it more," he says, smiling at me, making my cheeks turn red.

"Good evening," I hear, and a waiter appears at our table.

"Hi, how are you?" I ask politely, and the man smiles and nods.

"Very well, thank you."

"Ma'am? I am 21 years old."

"Two glasses of the house pinot noir," Dane says, barely looking at the menu. "I'll have the halibut, and we'll share oysters first, then the main dishes." Before I can speak, he surprises me. "She'll have the salmon with quinoa salad," the waiter says. Then he tells the waiter, "Take our menus."

I start to feel cold and clear my throat, gathering the courage to speak up. That was so old-fashioned and rude.

"No," I say firmly as the waiter takes Dane's menu back.

"What? I promise the salmon here is delicious."

"Seafood makes me sick," I tell the waiter, glaring at Dane. "I'd like a medium-rare steak with fries and a green salad, please," I say, folding my hands on the menu. "You might want to cancel those oysters unless you plan to eat them all."

"Okay, no oysters. Instead, we'll have pancetta," Dane says, trying to fix his mistake quickly. I give him a stiff nod. This whole thing has been messed up, and now I'm just mad.

"Very good," the waiter says as he leaves quickly, and I chew the inside of my cheek.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a seafood allergy?" He asks, and I blink at him. He thinks that's what went wrong?

"You're kidding, right?" I ask, and his mouth hangs open. "It's not my job to tell you about my food allergies; it's your job to let me order what I want without interference."

"I didn't—"

"I need to use the toilet," I say, grabbing my purse from the table and standing up.

I walk away, weaving through the tables until I locate the women's restroom. I just needed a moment to calm down because I was getting angry in the restaurant, and I didn't want to lose my temper. I wanted to discuss it like adults.

I check my phone briefly. Abby has already texted me twice, asking about my date. There's a bunch of spam emails on the screen, so I start swiping them away. Then I notice a message from Kent below them.

KYLE [7:51 PM]

"You look good, enjoy yourself"

He's so strange. He never texts me about anything except our apartment. Now he's commenting on how I look? Maybe he realized that Mark and Kyle had said something he hadn't.

I decide to do nothing for now and contemplate leaving. This feels like a significant red flag for me. I didn't appreciate having to discuss my allergies when he was ordering dinner for me. But I should give him a chance to make things right.

I exit the bathroom and head back to the table. Dane looks very nervous, and even though he had his back to me, I can see his knee shaking. Guys always do that. I lived with three guys, and when they were nervous or focused, the whole house would shake.

I take a deep breath and sit down, but he starts talking before I can get comfortable.

"God, I thought you weren't coming back," he says, and I clear my throat when he sighs. "I'm sorry, Julianna, but I was taught to order for a woman on a date." He pauses and adds, "I should have asked you instead of assuming." I take a deep breath and place my hands on the table.

"I don't mind that you wanted to order for me," I say, though deep down, I did mind a little. "But instead of guessing, you could have just asked me."

"I understand. I apologize," he pleads, and I look down at the table, nodding. "You're not the only one who's out of practice. I'm a bit rusty too. I haven't been on a date since I broke up with my boyfriend." He shrugs quietly, and I raise my eyes.

"You were engaged?" I ask, feeling a bit lost, and he chuckles.

"You know, when you're confused, you get this little crease between your eyebrows," he remarks, trying to make me smile. I suppress a grin by pressing my lips together. I haven't forgiven him completely yet, and I don't want to let my guard down.

"How old are you?" I ask because I'm genuinely curious.

"I'm 26 years old," he replies, and I blink. I thought he'd be a bit younger. "Our parents pushed us both to go to college, and that's where we met. I wasn't ready, and I didn't want to be there anymore, so I ended it and moved here."

"I had a feeling something was going on because no one moves to Providence for no reason," I tease, and he laughs. "Am I your second chance?"

"If it happened more than a year ago, I don't think it's a rebound," he mentions, and I simply shrug. "When we used to go out to eat, I'd always order for her because she couldn't decide. I know it's not a good reason, especially when I'm with you, but I'm not smooth or good at dating. I just wanted to show you how much I like you tonight."

This is so different from what I assumed about him. I thought he was a suave guy who could always impress girls and show them a good time. In reality, he's a lot like me: not used to this and making things up as he goes.

"Look, I'm not upset," I reassure him. "But you should know I'm a simple girl who appreciates simple things, so this wouldn't have impressed me. Anything would have made me happy."

"Really?"

"Of course, why not?" I chuckle. "I'm a student, and I think it's pretty cool that we're having dinner."

"So, if I had left groceries and a Starbucks gift card at your door..."

"Oh, come on! Just thinking about it gets me excited," I tease him, mimicking blowing on my face, and he laughs. "You're quite smooth, and that's how you break a twenty-one-year-old's heart."

"Free food," he chuckles. "Would you like to join us for dinner? We can cancel the order and try something else."

"No, I want my steak," she insists. He laughs when I tell him, "Why don't we start fresh? Tell me more about how software is developed." I tease her when I notice the glass of wine to her right. I must have missed it when I was in the bathroom. I pick it up and take a sip, trying not to smile. I wonder at what age I'll start liking wine.

The rest of the date goes much better. I'm not nearly as nervous, and whatever barrier he had up that made him come across as a jerk has disappeared. I'm surprised at how well we get along, but one thought keeps nagging at me.

Twenty-six.

I hope that won't be a problem.