5. Sara

Chapter five

Sara

"It's just one date. Not like it'll be anything serious," I tell Katie.

"That's what they all say, but I know you're going to have a wonderful time," she gushes.

I close my eyes, letting her do the final touches to my hair.

"Okay . . . look now!"

My eyes flutter open, and I stare in the mirror. Instinctively, my hands meet my lips.

"No way!"

I've never seen myself look this good before. Katie touches a curl that drapes down behind my ear, tugging it back slightly.

"I've wanted to do this to your hair for so long, girl."

"Well, now you have."

"Yeah, you have never let me doll you up in the past! I'm milking this for all it's worth."

I take a moment to look at myself. Katie's a wizard or something. What she did to my hair isn't earthly.

"I look . . . beautiful."

"Honey, you are beautiful," Katie says, resting her hands on my shoulders. "And you're going to rock his socks tonight."

I take a moment to drink in my appearance. My brown hair, which I normally put in a messy ponytail just to get it out of the way, sits in a high updo. There's a ton of hairspray here, but thick, draped curls cascade down each side. On my neck is a tiny aquamarine necklace, that matches the color of the dress I'm wearing. I stand up, and it drapes down to my knees. On my feet are black kitten heels. I brace myself against vanity.

"Woah!"

"Easy there, girl," Katie replies, holding me up. I catch my balance and look in the mirror.

My makeup is different, more than I've ever worn. I can't help but enjoy it. It looks beautiful, and I am so grateful to Katie.

"I love it," I gasp and wrap my arms around Katie in a massive hug.

"I knew you would. Trust me, you're going to make his day. So, where are you meeting?"

"The coffee shop."

"I'll drive you."

"You don't have to do that, Katie—"

"Yes, I do! I'm your best friend, and I want to meet the hunk that gave you his number," she replies with a wink.

I know that there's no way for me to fight this one. "Okay. Let's just not make it awkward, though."

"Sara, you know that's my middle name."

We laugh, and after doing the final touches, I grab the blue clutch bag holding my essentials. It was Katie's decision for me to borrow this bag, and I like it. Katie's got weird rich aunts who give her interesting things like this. She hates them because they're so small, and she prefers her huge, clunky purse, but she actually keeps them for me to use every now and then.

I never thought I'd use this for a real date.

We head to Katie's car, a small Jetta. As we slip inside, she places her phone in the center console.

"And he said eight, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's seven now. Better earlier than later."

"Right."

She starts the car after two cranks and we drive over to the coffee shop. As we approach, I see a slick Tesla sitting in the center parking space.

"That your guy?"

"I . . . think so?" I reply. She stops the car and I step out. Katie follows suit but doesn't approach the car.

The door to the Tesla opens, and Robert steps out. Our eyes meet, and for a moment I get lost in his blue orbs. They're more piercing than ever, shining in the moonlight like two brilliant sapphires.

"Sara. There you are."

"Sorry I'm late—"

"You're not late. Good to see you."

I stand there, nervous as can be. My palms sweat, and I clutch my purse like a lifeline. I look over at Katie, who gives me a thumbs-up. I nod slightly. She fires up the Jetta and then backs out, driving down the street. After a minute, the light turns green and she dashes off into the distance.

"Your friend?"

"Yeah. She, uh, wanted to make sure you were legit."

"She thinks I'm some serial killer or something?" he asks, affronted by my response.

"No, not at all!" I reply, raising my hand. "She's just kind of like that, you know . . . protective."

"I see."

We stand there, the awkward tension building like a festering wound. I run my hand through my hair.

"Sara you look beautiful, really gorgeous tonight." As I see her blush, I figure I need to get moving before we are both stammering. "Ready to get out of here? I have reservations at the Ruxton for us."

"The Ruxton? That's five-star dining!" Sara gasps.

"I wanted to make up for what I did, and I felt like taking you somewhere special."

"But why?" I ask, flummoxed by his words. Why would a guy who has only met me once take me to one of the nicest places in town?

He shrugs and then walks to the car. "Because I want to."

Without another word, he grabs my door and I slide in, taking in the expensive leather interior. A big monitor sits there and classical music plays through the interior.

He jumps in, buckles up, and revs up the motor. He turns, nodding slightly.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah," I reply, flushing crimson.

As we drive, neither of us says a word. I don't know where to start, and this all feels almost surreal. When we finally get there, I step out of the car as the valet gives me his hand. Robert follows, nodding to the valet. "This is the place."

I've never been to the Ruxton before, but I've driven by here plenty of times. The place is for rich people, with five-course menus. It's the type of place that you go to maybe for dinner, especially if it's for something fancy.

Walking up the steps, I admire the large fountain with a giant sculpture of an angel sitting above it.

"That's so pretty," and I fear my mouth may be gaping.

"It is," he replies and smiles at my obvious enjoyment.

We head inside, and once we're there, a man in a suit and tie greets us.

"Two for Harrington."

"Right this way."

He motions for us to follow him upstairs. I hold the banister, taking in the sight. This place is more surprising than I imagined. I'd heard that only the richest of all rich go to this restaurant, and they're not kidding.

People in Gucci, Versace, Vera Wang, the whole nine yards sit at these tables and converse. The women have similar black dresses, and the men are in Armani suits, with Tom Fords on their feet.

"Your seat is in the back here, miss."

"Oh, right!" I reply, following him to where Robert stands. He sees me frown a bit as I slide into the seat, placing my purse on the side.

"Something the matter?"

"No, I just noticed there's a lot of people here. It's a unique type of place," I explain.

He glances at the menu, and for a moment, I struggle to figure out where to begin. There are so many things that I want to say, but I have no clue how to put them.

"Anyway . . . what do you recommend here."

"I'm thinking about the lobster, myself."

I look down at it and then at the price. Holy moly, that's a lot of zeroes. I look back up, confused by his words.

"But that's a lot of money and—"

"Don't worry about it. I can pay for it."

"I don't want to be greedy or anything," I insist. "I've never had food that expensive. "

"Then try it. It's my treat. Do you drink?"

I shake my head. "Not really. I mean, I'm twenty-two, and I've had a few glasses of wine now and then, but—"

"Let me get something. I want you to try it," he says.

This guy is crazy. First, he takes me here, and now he wants to feed me the most expensive food I've ever eaten.

"I'm not a charity case, Robert," I insist.

"Never intended that."

"So then, why are you—"

He places the menu down, lowering his gaze.

"Do you always overthink, Sara?"

I sit there, taking in his words. I mean, I tend to a lot, but that's beside the point.

"I mean . . . kind of."

He shakes his head and I think I glimpse a little grin on his face.

"Then stop thinking. Enjoy the moment. Don't set yourself up to feel guilty. This is my treat. And I want to do this."

"Right. Sure. Thank you."

"You're very welcome," he replies, the purr in his voice making me heat up. My stomach seems to unexpectedly contain a horde of butterflies.

The waiter appears and Robert orders for us like he comes here daily. The server nods and then disappears, leaving the two of us alone once more.

I rest my hands on the table, trying to figure out what to say. I don't even know where to begin.

"I'm sorry if I'm quiet. It's just overwhelming."

"Take your time. I want to be here with you," he admits.

"You do?"

He nods. "Sure do."

"Why, though?"

"You intrigue me, Sara," he reasons. "I like that."

"I see," I finally say, taking a deep breath. My whole body feels on fire, and I try to put on a smile. But I never expected this.

He still hasn't said much, and all of his words are a bit biting. But in truth, I kind of like it.

"So . . . ."

"Sara," he begins. I look up at him as he narrows his gaze.

"Yes?" I squeak out.

"There's a few questions that I want to ask you, if that's okay."

What kind of questions does he have? Are they serious questions? Or just ice breakers? My hands tap on the tablecloth. He reaches for one, holding it.

"Just relax."

"Okay," I reply, putting my hand down. I look into his eyes and see the little crease along his forehead. He's frowning, but he stares with intent, like he cares about the answers.

"I want to ask you a little bit about you if that's okay."

I nod a little bit.

"Sure, ask away."