Eternal Youth (7 page)

“We haven’t even
been
to Antarctica, Callie Bishoff. Quit being facetious.” Her mother’s tone was playful. Then, her eyes went unfocused, and she murmured, “Although—”

Callie rolled her eyes. “
No
, Mother. No Antarctica.”

Her mom just waggled her eyebrows.

“You know what I mean,” Callie went on with a chuckle, tossing another shirt on the floor with a huff.

Neither Emma nor Callie had bothered getting out of their pajamas that day. They’d spent most of the afternoon watching old Disney movies and eating junk food. As a result, her mother had happy crow’s feet at the edges of her eyes, and Callie was feeling lighthearted.

Emma perched on the edge of Callie’s bed and surveyed the disaster zone. Clothes were draped haphazardly across every available surface—sweaters over the bed posts, blue jeans hung from the vanity chair, and an assortment of tanks, tees, and skirts littered the carpet. “Was this necessary?”

“
Mom
.”

Emma lifted her hands in defeat and chuckled. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“Just help. Please?”

Her mother stood and stepped gingerly across the room, eyeing the various pieces of clothes. “Did you get that one nice sweater dress out of storage? The one we got at Macy’s?”

“The green one?”

“Yeah, that one.”

Callie put a finger to her lips as she thought back to the day they’d gotten home from Guatemala. “Um. I don’t think so. I didn’t think I’d need it.”

“What about those leggings with the see-through swirly pattern?”

“I didn’t get any leggings.”

“Black ankle boots?”

Callie crossed her eyes and collapsed onto the bed. “You’re killin’ me, Smalls.”

Her mother’s tinkly laugh filled the room. “Alright, throw a jacket on. We’re going to the storage unit.”

Her mom was right.

The sweater dress was emerald green and hung just past her bottom. It clung to the few curves she had and emphasized the color of her eyes. The leggings looked great on her legs, especially after she stepped into the ankle boots. A big black belt around her waist completed the outfit, and Callie felt like a million bucks.

“Thanks for doing my make-up,” she told her mom as they said goodbye at the front door. “And for letting me take the car.”

Emma shrugged and leaned against the door with a smile. “You look gorgeous, baby.”

Callie blushed and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind an ear.

Her mom touched her cheek. “When did you grow up?”

“Sometime between Papua New Guinea and Sri Lanka,” Callie quipped, and danced away as her mom swatted her on the arm.

“Take your attitude elsewhere, missy!”

“Love you, Mom.” As she said it, Callie realized it had been a long time since the last time she’d said so.

Emma paused, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Love you too, baby. Have a good time. Call if you need me, okay?”

Callie nodded. “Bye.”

Her mom waited at the door as Callie climbed into the Beemer and backed out of the driveway. Callie waved before she headed for the highway.

They had decided on a movie first, and then dinner after, which Callie should have realized was a sign of things to come. It seemed out of order to her—dinner should come first for talking and getting to know one another, then the movie.

She let Jonathan convince her otherwise.

He was waiting outside the theater with his hands shoved in the pockets of his black jeans. The generic band T-shirt he wore just barely reached the top of his pants and was tight across his lanky torso. His dark hair fell into his eyes in such a charming way that Callie could forgive him for doing the date out of order.

“Hey,” he said as she clicked up to him on her boots. “You look great.”

“Thanks. So do you.” Callie smiled, fighting the blush that wanted to rise in her cheeks.
Squash the nerdy
, she threatened herself.

He gestured to the theater marquee with his head. “You like Sci-Fi? If not, we can go to the new Tom Cruise.”

“Um…” Callie shrugged. She didn’t care for Sci-Fi, but she didn’t want to step on his toes either. “I guess Tom Cruise?”

“Sure.”

Callie followed him to the window, where a slight girl with a sweet face printed their tickets and took Jonathan’s money.
Score one for paying
, Callie thought as he thanked the attendant.

He gave her a boyish grin, and her knees wobbled.
He’s so cute it should be illegal.

“Would you like anything to eat or drink?” Jonathan asked, holding the door for her to pass through.

“Definitely! Popcorn and a soft drink are both necessary at the movies.” It was something her dad had always said; she felt a twinge at the memory.

“I agree.”

The movie theater was a holdover from a more classical time. The ceilings in the lobby were low, and the overall “theme” was maroon and gold. Potted palms hid walls that could have used a paint job.

They hit the concession stand just inside the doors, and he paid again, which turned Callie into a Jonathan fan. He even carried her drink and popcorn into the theater.

After they had settled into the red velvet seats and put their drinks in the cup holders, Jonathan turned in his seat to eye her. “So, Callie Bishoff. Tell me all about yourself. Where you from?”

“From here, actually. Born and raised,” she said, turning to face him.
Maybe we can actually get some conversation in before the movie starts
, Callie thought hopefully.

But, the lights dimmed and the speakers clicked on as the previews started, and Callie realized she’d spoke too soon.

“We’ll talk at dinner,” Jonathan whispered. He glanced around, and then put an arm over the back of her seat and balanced his popcorn on one knee.

Callie wondered what he was looking for, but shrugged it off. She turned her eyes to the screen and melted against his warmth.

She wasn’t able to focus on the movie even though it was as action-packed as usual. All she could think of was the feeling of Jonathan’s arm around her shoulders; she kept sneaking peeks at him from the corner of her eye, admiring his angular profile and the way his face reacted to events on the screen.

Callie couldn’t believe she was on a date. In all the years she’d traveled with her mother, she’d had numerous crushes: the tall, blond boy in Sweden, and the stocky, dark-skinned Italian teen who had held her hand outside the Vatican. But a date?

She snuggled against Jonathan’s side and smiled to herself. Things were
definitely
looking up.

As they left the theater, Jonathan said, “I wanted to take you to one of my favorite restaurants. It’s just outside of town, so it’s kind of a drive. Is that okay?”

Callie glanced at her watch—it was already seven-thirty. It was a little odd that he would want to go out of town to eat when there were tons of great restaurants nearby.
Maybe he just wants to spend more time with me
, she told herself. The thought brought a smile to her face. “Sure, I’ll just text my mom and tell her I’ll be home late.”

“Awesome. I’ll drive.”

She followed him down the sidewalk and past her mom’s BMW. Callie glanced at his face as she hurried to keep up with his long-legged gait; his eyes were darting around as if he were noticing everything. In a rush of bravery, Callie reached for his hand…

Just as he tucked both hands into his pants pockets.

He didn’t acknowledge that he’d seen her reach for him, so Callie tried to not let it bother her.

When they reached his small-sized pickup truck, Jonathan held open the door so Callie could slide into the cab. She pushed aside a black duffel bag so she could fit on the seat and kicked at floorboard debris to make room for her feet.

“Sorry.” Jonathan flashed her a wolfish grin. “I should have cleaned it out. I just don’t have a lot of free time between work, sports, and school.”

Callie was never really into organized sports, mainly because she sucked at them. She waited until he got in on his side before she asked, “What sports do you play?”

“Soccer and basketball. I used to wrestle when I was younger, but I got bored of that.”

“Are you any good?”

Jonathan shrugged. “I’m not bad. Because our school doesn’t do so hot in sports, I got a scholarship. That’s how my parents can afford for me to go to the private school. I’m on the varsity teams. Not that it’s anything to brag about if you saw our record.”

Callie laughed. She liked that he could joke about himself and still seem modest. So far, he was turning out even better than she had hoped.
Of course, I have to leave in a few days. Figures, I finally meet someone I like and I have to leave.

“I’m sure you guys aren’t
that
bad.”

He laughed. “Go ahead and come to a game. You’ll see.”

His statement made Callie glow. Even for a girl who’d never dated before, she was almost positive it was a good sign when the guy started talking about future dates.

Callie glanced out the window and wondered where they were going. They were already so far outside the limits of the city that there were no streetlights on the highway.
I didn’t even know there was a place to eat out this way.
Granted, it wasn’t like she was in or around San Diego on a regular basis, but they were passing
farmland
. She didn’t want to break the mood, so she just sat back and relaxed.

Jonathan finally pulled off the highway and turned right on an empty road. They began passing small mom-‘n-pop stores and strip malls. Not civilization, but better than the boonies.

He took a gravel driveway beneath a large, flashing red sign that said “Best Pulled Pork in Town,” and found a space right by the front door of a nondescript box of a building. The front was nothing but a wall of windows, illuminated by the warm glow of lights inside.

Now we’re talking
, Callie thought with a big grin. She loved southern home cooking, and it was hard to find in California.

Jonathan cut the engine and jumped from the truck, hurrying around to open Callie’s door. “This place has killer barbeque, and even better mashed potatoes,” he said, offering her a hand.

“That’s great!” Callie said brightly, and let him help her from the car; it made her feel feminine. After he closed the door, he didn’t let go of her, and it made Callie’s heart skip a beat.

“How’d you know I love southern food?” Callie said, nudging him with her elbow as they walked towards the front door.

“Just lucky.” Jonathan winked.

They walked through the beat-up screen door and were assaulted by the most amazing combination of smells: part beer, part grill smoke, and part barbeque sauce. On smell alone, Callie knew the food had to be amazing.

The floor was barbeque-splattered concrete, and the “chairs” lining the bar were old whiskey barrels still labeled with brand names and dates. Red-and-white checked tablecloths covered the picnic tables, and the benches were so worn there were white butt-prints in the mauve paint.

“How have I never heard of this place before?” Callie let go of his hand to gesture to the large, open room before she shrugged from her jacket.

“My mom used to bring me and my brother here when I was a kid,” Jonathan answered, motioning for her to slide onto the bench. After she was settled, he took her coat and hung it on a wall peg nearby before taking a seat across from her.

Callie was charmed by the waitress with her bleach-blonde hair in a beehive style, and her fitted blue-jean dress complete with frilly white apron. The woman took their drink order—a Coke for Callie and a sweet tea for Jonathan—and returned with a basket of rolls.

Callie decided to go big and get the special: pulled pork with maple and brown sugar barbeque sauce, potato salad, and corn bread. Jonathan asked for a loaded pork potato that looked so delicious she almost regretted her own choice of meal.

Until she took her first bite of pork. “Ohmigod,” Callie groaned. She finished chewing as her date chuckled. “This is the best I’ve ever had. The sauce should be illegal!”

Jonathan laughed and reached across the table to wipe barbeque from her chin. “The sign isn’t wrong, definitely. I like that not many people know about this place. Makes it special.”

“Well, thanks for sharing it with me.” Callie blushed as she met his eyes across the table. Her heart skipped a beat—he was so gorgeous. She wanted to reach over and move his hair out of his eyes.
Too awkward
, she told herself. She could just imagine trying to reach across the wide picnic table. Instead, she just grinned.

Callie watched out the car window as Jonathan navigated the empty street and came to a stop beside her mother’s BMW where it was parked at the meter on the side of the road. She nervously pulled at the edge of her sweater dress. The night had been perfect; she didn’t want it to end.
What if he doesn’t want to see me again?

Turning the key in the ignition, Jonathan turned off the car. They sat for a moment—double-parked in front of the movie theater—as the engine ticked.

“Well,” Jonathan murmured. He touched Callie’s knee until she caught his eye.

“Well,” she answered shyly.

“I’ll walk you to your door.”

“You really don’t have to, it’s just right there,” Callie answered, motioning out her window.

“Don’t be silly.” He winked.

For the fourth time that night, Jonathan stepped from the car and rushed around to open her door. Callie’s heart pounded at the easy smile on his face as he pulled her from the car and slid a strong arm around her waist.

He guided her the three feet to her car door and swept his free arm out to the vehicle. “Mademoiselle—your car.”

Callie giggled, slightly drunk on his presence. “Thank you, kind sir.”

They turned to face one another, and Callie shivered in the chill night air. Jonathan noticed and pulled her closer.

A blush crept up her cheeks. “I had a good time.”

“Me too.” He brushed her hair back with one hand, his other pressed gently to her lower back.

Callie’s breath caught in her throat as he leaned down and softly pressed his lips to hers.