Inside My Head

the literary rantings of Angie Frissore

Date Night with The Coworker

I paced the living room nervously, unable to keep myself from glancing at the clock every few seconds.  I had agonized over what to wear, finally settling on a slimming, grey scoop-neck sweater and jeans, and was still at risk of a last-minute-mad-dash to the closet for another emergency change.  The key was to not go upstairs.

Staring at my phone, I began to grow restless as it got later and later into the evening.  I knew The Coworker was on his way, but I couldn’t, for the life of me, imagine how it could possibly take that long to get to my house.   Taco paced around my feet, wondering what was making me so nervous. Finally, the phone rang.

“Abby,” he stated, in his deep, sultry voice that didn’t quite seem to fit his body.  “I’m just coming off the highway.  Where am I going again?”

I coached him through the mile and a half of back roads, and hung up the phone to do one last once-over for good measure.  Another ten minutes passed before I saw headlights creep by the driveway, stop, and suddenly back up.  I stepped out onto the front porch and waved him up the driveway, trying to hide my slight annoyance at the delay.

He was better looking than I had remembered, but he had cut his hair.  As he stepped out of the car, I playfully tussled his now-short hair and smiled.

“What happened to your shaggy hair?” I asked.  “That was so….sexy.”

“My mother said I looked like a drug dealer,” he laughed, opening the car door for me.

I suggested a local steak house for dinner, and we were soon on our way downtown.   I couldn’t help but remark on his car, which was a relatively new Dodge Charger.

“This is a great car,” I said, taking a look in the back seat.  “I’ve always wanted to drive in one of these.”

“Thanks…” he trailed off.  “It’s a rental.”

“A rental?”

“Yeah.  My car isn’t really, uh, date-worthy.”

“How so?” I asked, laughing slightly.

“Well, you do want to make it home this evening, correct?” he asked, grinning.  I was torn between being impressed by his chivalry in renting an adequate mode of transportation for the evening, and being slightly horrified at the prospect of dating a man with an unreliable car.
“Well,” I said, coyly, “I guess that all depends on how the date goes.”

The restaurant was remarkably empty when we arrived, despite it being a Friday night.  The dining room was dotted with elderly couples and the occasional bus boy.  The hostess led us to a corner table, where The Coworker took his seat next to me, rather than across from me.  This guy was good.

We struggled to make small talk throughout dinner, until I finally could no longer contain myself and burst into giggles.  Before long, both of us erupted in laughter.

“I feel like a science experiment in here,” I said, leaning in closer to him.  “Is this as sketchy to you as it is to me?”

“I bet that’s a two-way mirror,” he laughed, pointing across the room.  “We’re being studied!”

We finished our meals, and having broken the ice with what seemed like a twisted sociological experiment in the abandoned restaurant, got to know each other slightly better.  I still couldn’t quite put him together though – there was something mysterious about him, a quiet, understated confidence that led me to imagine what lied beneath his Romanesque features and sly smile.

As we pulled into the driveway, I tried to think of a way of inviting him inside without giving him the impression that he was going to get any sort of action.  I wasn’t ready for the date to be over.

“It really sucks that you have to get up so early,” The Coworker said as he parked the car.  “What time is your flight?”

“Six,” I said.  “But it’s okay.  I’d already planned on just getting in a cat nap tonight.  I never sleep well before I fly, as if I’m afraid I won’t wake up.”

“I definitely would not get up,” he joked.   “So listen, I know you need to get some rest, but I have some weed if you wanna hang for just a little bit longer?”  Smitten, I tried to keep myself from grinning ear to ear.

“I think I can afford a bit more time,” I said, smiling.  “But no funny business.”

“Scout’s honor.”

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November 21, 2008 - Posted by | No Messages - Excerpts from the Draft | , ,

2 Comments »

  1. “I have some weed if (you) wanna hang for just a little bit longer”

    But me likey.

    Comment by Mike | December 13, 2008 | Reply

  2. Nice catch Mikey 😉 Thanks….

    Comment by Angela Frissore | December 13, 2008 | Reply


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