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He had felt stupid. When Amber had texted him that she would pick the place for this date, he had thought that she must have something actually fancy in her mind. Maybe something super cool and trendy and what the fuck did someone wear to places like that? Someone who probably didn't even belong to those places, what did someone like that wear? Apparently, someone like that wore a button down, some pants that could have used some ironing and an old jacket, the only real jacket he had.
He had felt shabby when he went to pick her up and had to remind himself how to breathe after she had opened the door. The short black dress looked elegant, expensive, like she got it tailored so it would fit her like a glove and make her look like the most beautiful person on this planet, put on this earth to leave him speechless and with a desire so intense he wished they would ditch the whole date thing and take every damn piece of clothing off.
It hadn't helped that she wouldn't stop looking at him the whole way in the car with those huge brown eyes. He nearly had asked her if she wanted him to change. He would have changed for her, no doubt about that, but this was already him trying to make a good impression. He had wondered what the other cooks would say about him now. Ruby would tell him that she had been right, Nico would probably laugh and Pickles, well, Pickles would just be confused as always.
She had carefully explained the directions to him and he had followed them, nervously, arguing with the cooks in his head.
And then they had arrived at the establishment.
“I hope you like it.” Amber moved the plastic fork around on her white paper plate and watched a little red tomato roll around on it.
She had been excited for this night. She loved the little food truck, the cosy feeling to it, she loved how quiet it usually was in the corner there and how effortlessly intimate it was. She had been excited to share this place with Joey and see whether he would like it too, maybe he would jokingly mock her, that had been an option that she hadn’t hated at all, but he had been silent during the ride there and the heavy feeling in her chest hadn’t left her since getting into the car with him.
It hadn’t helped that she couldn’t stop looking at him. Handsome was an understatement. She wanted to put her hands into his dark hair and feel his hands everywhere on her body. He looked different than at work, chic without even trying.
Stop looking at him. She was probably making him uncomfortable with her staring.
“They make everything themselves,” she explained enthusiastically. “It’s a family business. They are known for their falafel bowls and that’s how I found them. I love them. I come here all the time. It’s okay if you don’t like it, though. We can go back to your choice next time.” If this wasn’t the end of this. It had just started and she had already messed it up. Maybe she shouldn’t have said all of that and implied how eager she already was for more. Maybe she was already boring him. Maybe she was overwhelming him. Maybe she wasn’t enough.
The heavy feeling in her heart got even worse, moved along to her stomach, all her appetite was gone at this point.
Amber looked up from her plate, dreading to see the look on his face.
“I guess it's just not what I expected.” His eyes were fixed on the plate in front of him.
Of course. He was disappointed. Amber took a deep breath. That’s what she was good at: being a disappointment.
“I just thought you would pick something fancy. Hell, when I saw you at your door,” he looked up and directly at her now, the dark eyes wandering, “looking like that, I thought that I might not even have a chance to get a foot into wherever we were going tonight.”
“You… I… What?” Amber couldn’t help the laugh escaping her mouth. “Is that why you were so quiet the whole time?”
Fuck. He had really been awfully silent. Way to mess things up. Get yourself together.
He cleared his throat. “The food is delicious.” It really was. Her face lit up now and he couldn’t help but laugh as well. “I am actually relieved you picked this,” he looked around and then back at her again, “place. Guess we got lucky that one of the two tables were free and that you seem to be known here.”
She shrugged, a slight blush spreading on her gorgeous face. One of his favourite sights.
“They knew you by name. I definitely noticed that. You bring all your dates here?”
Amber laughed again. “No. I don’t usually pick the places, actually.” And she would hate to have the comfort of it ruined by some bad memory. She wanted it to still stay something special.
Joey reached for one of the sauces in front of her and brushed against her naked arm with his hand causing immediate goose bumps on her skin.
He frowned with worry in his eyes. “Are you cold?”
“No, no! I’m fine!”
Joey had already gotten up and in the same move smoothly taken off his jacket.
“You should have brought a jacket,” he said seriously and gently put his own around her shoulders.
“I really should have,” she whispered and held her breath until he was sitting in his chair across from her again. It smelled like leather and him and it felt like a hug. The second best thing to actually being held by him for now. “Tell me if you get cold and need it back.”
He shook his head and watched her, still with that serious look on his face. “I don’t think I’ll ever want it back, seeing how much better it looks on you.”
Amber looked down to the jacket and tried hiding her bright smile, a futile attempt. “I don’t know, to me you look very sexy in it,” she murmured.
He cleared his throat again and, the way his face felt too warm, he was glad that it was dark out here. The only light source was the food truck’s dim lights shining over to them. “My son says it’s time for a new one,” he started talking and watched her look up to him, listening attentively. “Not everything that’s old is also vintage, that’s what he told me.”
She laughed a polite laugh, but really got suddenly overly aware of the new topic.
“He’d like it here,” he continued talking. “He’d like the food. Finally, something actually good or however that one joke goes. Sometimes he sends me those memes. He didn’t get my good humour. He’d like you.” The last part he said very quietly, his gaze set on the nearly empty plate.
“Maybe somewhen we can come here again. The three of us.” She matched his tone. Everything about this felt like a risky confession.
She watched him smile slightly, lost in thought for a moment. “Maybe. He is annoying, though. And will probably hit on you. He also loves to complain about most things. He did get some things from me, I’m afraid.”
“Nothing wrong about that.”
Joey frowned again. “I see myself in him in some ways that scare me and I wish that I could change it.” He shook his head. Why was he talking about this? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.” But exactly that you did, idiot.
“You didn’t!” she hurried to assure him. “I just don’t think it’s fair to say that. I know you have a lot of great, amazing qualities.”
He laughed a dry and bitter laugh. “I don’t know about that…”
“But I do.” She wondered how red her face looked in the dim lights. His gaze was so fierce she wanted to look away, but continued to hold it, managed a smile even. “If you can’t believe yourself, maybe you can believe me?”
“You decided to go out with me again, Amber, and that after the first date was at the bistro. Don’t know how trustworthy you are when it comes to judging someone’s character.” He actually had never stopped wondering why she had agreed to another one. Not only agreed, no, she had asked him for another one.
“Terry was so done with us that day.”
They both laughed.
“I think that everyone was done with us that day.”
“I think it was sweet,” she confessed, “but I like not being watched tonight. It feels nice, just the two of us.”
“I have seen one of the cooks from there,” he nodded into the direction of the open window, “glance over here a few times now.”
Amber grinned. “Are you jealous?”
It had been a joke, but he nodded and sincerely added: “I’m the worst when it comes to that.”
“Makes two of us then,” she admitted in a surprisingly low tone that nearly made him gasp for air.
“Why does it feel so easy to confess things to you?” When had the last time been that he had talked this openly about how he felt about such personal things with someone that he was trying to impress? Actually, had anyone ever made him do this?
“What else do you have to confess?”
Too many things. Impulsive and cheesy and dirty and soft and horrible and bad and sad things. “You want to hear everything?”
She nodded eagerly, her brown eyes so focused on him, it made him forget how to coherently form a sentence for a bit.
“Some of those will definitely have to wait until we are not in public anymore,” he whispered and the grin on his lips made her giggle.
“I can wait,” she promised. She herself had some confessions ready on her tongue.
“What about you? Any wild confessions?” he asked.
Her eyes widened for a moment.
“Also too wild to be confessed in public?”
“Some of it.”
“Don’t tell me you have some fucked up favourite ice-cream flavour like bubble gum?”
She shook her head.
“Strawberry is the best,” they said in unison.
“That’s my girl. The only right answer. If we are already talking about places to visit next, we should add this cafe in Italy where my grandpa used to bring me as a little boy on summer holidays. They serve the best ice-cream I ever had. Impossible not to love it”
She placed her chin on her hand, her wide smile impossible to get off of her lips. “We are booking tickets to Italy for the third date then?” She wanted to laugh about the harsh contrast of his first suggestion being their workplace and his second one being on another continent, but she was too caught up in his eyes and the passion she found in them.
“Would you go with me?” Say yes.
Everywhere. “I’d love to.”
“Terry would never allow us both to leave at the same time for longer than a day.” He felt like a lovesick teenager talking about running away with his crush, a silly smile on his lips and his heart raced like they were already running on open fields.
“Are we suddenly supposed to start listening to Terry now?”
“Come to think of it, the place I have in mind would also make a great honeymoon destination.” This woman really made him say anything that went through his head (or the tame enough versions that he thought were acceptable enough to say out loud in this corner).
Amber felt her palm getting sweaty under her face. Take me then, take me now. Let’s book the tickets right now. She moved the tip of her pointy high heel to touch his leg under the table, watched him straighten up in his chair, his leg not moving away. “You make it sound lovely. I can’t wait to see it.”
“The sea, the food, the heat. You don’t mind the heat, do you?”
She shook her head, her mouth felt dry and she wanted to move closer to him, throw away the plates, the bottled sauces, jump over the table. “I love it.”
The smile he gave her made her feel like she was already standing somewhere in the burning sun.
“Perfect.” She made him dream of things he had forgotten he could dream of.
Behind them the cooks called for the last round.
Amber felt like someone had woken her up from a wonderful fever dream. Somehow she managed to say: “If you are in the mood for something sweet, they have some delicious Pistachio Baklava on the dessert menu.”
“I definitely crave something sweet. Can we take it to go?” In the car, her place, his. Behind the truck there.
“My place or yours?” She wouldn’t mind either.
“You decide, baby.” He wouldn’t be able to make a decision right now anyway.
Wherever, just as long as it’s with you.