Paige Torn (27 page)

Ever. Ever. Ever.

But considering he has asked me like twelve times, I figure this is maybe just an overdue response to one of those.

“Dinner, huh?” Tyler drawls, and I hear the smile in his voice.

“Dinner. At California Pizza Kitchen.”

“Tonight?”

“Right now.”

He laughs. “Well. Pizza sounds a lot better than the instant macaroni and cheese I was about to make.”

“Is that a yes?” I fold the skirt up and try not to read too much into how excited I am.

“Yes ma'am. It's a definite yes. I'll even pick you up so you don't have the chance to change your mind.”

I grin.

Tyler knocks on my door twenty minutes later, just as I am sliding my dangle earrings through my ears. I changed out of the yoga pants and into jeans, ballet flats, a white lacy cami, and a gray cardigan with three-quarter-length sleeves. I feel like I look cute in an unassuming kind of way.

Unassuming is always a good look to go for when you are the one asking the guy out. I think. Like I said, I don't have a lot of experience with it.

I open the door and Tyler grins at me. “Wow,” he says, eyebrows going up. “You look great!”

“Thanks.” I feel myself blushing.

“No seriously. You look …” He studies me for a minute, and the blush just gets deeper into the marrow of my cheekbones. “I don't know. Happy?” He nods to my hair. “I didn't realize your hair was so long.”

Which is probably another way of saying, “Gosh, you've had your hair in a sloppy bun for most of the time I've known you.”

“I had a good day,” I tell him.

“Yeah? What did you do?”

I grin. “Nothing.” And it is actually the honest-to-goodness truth.

We get to the restaurant, which is in an outdoor mall, park in the huge parking lot, walk inside, and discover that there is a thirty-minute wait. “On a Monday?” I ask the hostess, shocked.

She sighs at me, looking frazzled. “You're telling me. I have midterms in two weeks. I was planning on an easy shift and then studying the rest of the night.”

“I'm sorry.” I look at Tyler. “Want to go somewhere else?”

He shakes his head. “How far does this buzzer thing reach?” He points to the round black disc I hold.

She shrugs. “I don't know. Pretty far.”

“We'll be outside then,” he says.

We walk back outside. It is cooling off, but in Dallas, that means it's still seventy degrees and about 60 percent humidity. I look up at him. “Well. What do you want to do?”

He points to a bench. “We can just sit there, if you want.”

I sit. The bench is facing the parking lot, and it's right between two planters filled with mini trees and flowers. There is music playing and it sounds like Michael Bublé, though I don't recognize the song.

Tyler sits down and smiles at me. “So. Nothing? You didn't do anything all day?”

“I got to work this morning and got sent home.”

He squints at me. “You're not sick, right?” He scoots a couple of inches away.

“Relax. I just got a little overwhelmed, that's all.”

He looks at me and a strange expression crosses his face, then he blinks it away and smiles. “Well. I won't say I told you so.”

“Go ahead and say it.”

“I told you so.”

“You know, for not knowing me very long, you sure seem to be comfortable telling me exactly what you're thinking,” I say, rolling my eyes.

He grins. “So, what do you plan on doing to prevent days like today from happening again?”

“Days like today? Absolutely nothing. Today was great!” I wave my hands as I talk. “I finally finished that wreath I've been trying to finish for the past six weeks. I watched HGTV. I did my makeup. Tyler, I took a
nap
.” I grab his forearm. “For like two
hours
.” I pull away, shaking my head. “I can't even remember the last time I sat down to watch TV, much less the last time I curled my hair.”

“Your hair does look very nice.” He grins at me.

“Thank you.” I nod. “This is what I used to look like.”

“Before what? The Munchkins invaded?”

“You're a dork.”

“Speaking of saying exactly what you're thinking.” He grins again.

I ignore him. “No, before life got all crazy. Up until today, I thought that God's plan was for me to spend my singleness serving Him with every spare minute of my time.”

“And now you don't?” Tyler frowns.

“No, now I just have a different idea of what serving really means.”

The buzzer goes off in my hands before Tyler can respond. We walk inside and hand it to the hostess, who then grabs a couple of menus and leads us to the far back corner of the restaurant. “Is this table okay?” She points to a booth in the corner.

“Great, thank you,” Tyler tells her.

I sit down and take my menu from the hostess. I love California Pizza Kitchen and I'm not entirely sure why. It's loud, the baby two tables across from us is screaming while his frazzled mother scrambles around trying to get him to stop, there is what seems like a lady and her adult son debating some political policy next to us, and the whole place smells vaguely of pepperoni and yeast.

Even so. I always ask to come here every year on my birthday when Mom and Dad come into town.

I barely glance at the menu before closing it.

“Already know what you're getting?” Tyler asks.

“Yep.” I get the same thing every single time I come. Pear and Gorgonzola Pizza, mango iced tea, and if I'm still hungry or feel like having pizza for lunch the next day, tiramisu for dessert.

It is delicious.

Tyler wrinkles his nose when I tell him what I'm ordering. “Pears on pizza?”

“What? People put dead, canned, salty fish on pizza. I ask you, which one is weirder?”

“Whatever. I'm getting the meat lovers.” He folds his menu and sets it on the table in front of him. “So, what did you mean by you have a new idea of what serving God looks like?”

I sigh, trying to think of the right way to put what I am feeling into words. I see why the Bible mentions that the Holy Spirit prays for us when words just won't work. Words lack a lot.

The waitress comes by then, which gives me another couple of minutes to figure out how to phrase it. We order, she nods and takes our menus with her.

Tyler looks over at me, waiting.

“It's just …” I spread my hands out, thinking. “So, before yesterday, I would have said that I am serving God by everything I'm doing.”

“Okay,” Tyler says.

I tell him about reading the story of Jairus and his daughter. The waitress brings our drinks, and I play with my straw wrapper while I talk. “So, Jesus didn't even rush when it was something like that,” I say.

Tyler nods. “I've actually noticed that before. Jesus knew He only had thirty-three years here, but He didn't hurry around. He taught, He spent time with His disciples, and He spent time with God.”

“Right.” I take a sip of my delicious mango tea and nod. “So, I've basically decided my priorities need to be worked on a little bit.”

“Good.” Tyler grins at me. “And I'm stoked to see that California Pizza Kitchen with me made the priority list.” He reaches across the table and picks up my fingers, rubbing his thumb along my knuckles.

I feel myself blushing, and I hope the poor restaurant lighting is working in my favor. I like Tyler. I think he is funny, and he seems to have a good head on his shoulders.

But goodness knows I'm not ready for a real relationship right now.

I need to get my other serious relationship up and running normally again first.

Thankfully, the waitress shows up with our pizzas right then. Tyler ducks his head and squeezes his eyes shut when she leaves, still holding my hand.

“Lord, thank You for this time with Paige, thank You for this delicious dinner, and please just continue to guide Paige in the right way. Amen.” He smiles at me and lets go of my hand.

“Amen,” I echo, pulling a slice of pizza off the plate.

“So, are you excited for the next couple of weeks?” Tyler asks, after he swallows a bite of his pizza. “Isn't Layla's parents' thing this weekend?”

I nod. I need to call Layla when I leave here and make sure she doesn't need anything.

Then I catch myself. If Layla needs something, she will call me.

“Yeah.” I chew a bite of delectableness and swallow. “She wants me to spend the night in the park with Peter and her on Friday to save the space for the party.”

“Sounds good and awkward,” Tyler says.

“See? Thank you. I knew I wasn't the only one who thought so.”

“I've got an idea,” he says a few seconds later. “How about Peter and I stay the night in the park and make sure no one takes it the next morning? You and Layla can join us for a picnic or something there that night and then just bring us breakfast in the morning.”

“Really?” I try not to get too excited at the prospect of not having to spend the night in the park. Not only was I going to be sleeping between my best friend and her fiancé, the idea of staying the night someplace so badly lit and so close to bugs and all sorts of nature doesn't sound like a great night of sleep to me.

“As long as you bring coffee,” Tyler says. Then he takes a deep breath, looking at a slice of pizza. “Lots and lots of coffee.”

“Wow, Tyler, I don't know what to say.”

“You'd better just go ahead and say yes. I've even got camping supplies. It'll be like a bonding thing with Peter.”

“Yes, well, good luck with that,” I say quietly and then immediately regret it. “Sorry.”

Tyler grins. “Maybe he's just more of a quiet guy. I mean, come on, all I saw growing up was how the girls always fawned over the silent, stoic types.” He rolls his eyes at me. “Needless to say, I wasn't either one.”

I nod. Tyler is not very quiet, that is a fact.

“Well, it's the whole Mr. Darcy image that's killing you,” I tell him. “No one does silent and stoic better than him.”

“I'll take your word for it.”

“You don't have to just take my word. I actually own the movie. You can watch it.” I grin. “I even own both the five-hour version and the two-hour version.”

“There is a
five-hour
version?” Tyler shakes his head. “Seriously. Who has five hours to watch a movie?”

“I think we'll have more than five hours at the park on Friday. I'll bring my laptop and we can watch the whole thing.”

“Or,” Tyler says, overannunciating the word, “we can do something fun.”

“What is more fun than five hours of Mr. Darcy?”

“Oh, let me think,” Tyler says sarcastically.

“See? It's hard to even think of more fun ideas.”

“That is not the problem. The problem is so many ideas are better that I'm having trouble narrowing them down.”

I laugh.

He drops me off at my apartment two hours later. I am stuffed to the top of my scalp, and I even have a box with half my pizza left over. Tyler talked me into saving the rest of the pizza for tomorrow and splitting the tiramisu with him tonight.

It was a good decision.

“Thanks for dinner,” I say for the twelfth time as we stand at the base of my stairs. “I really didn't mean for you to pay.”

Somehow, he talked the waitress into giving him the check while I was in the restroom, even though I specifically told her when I ordered that dinner was on me.

Tyler grins at me, and I can kind of see how he managed to coerce the waitress into doing what he asked. He has a really nice smile. And the subtle look in his blue eyes is making my stomach feel squirrely.

I clear my throat and look away. “Well, thanks again.” I try to sound nonchalant. I hope he is picking up my vibes about this not really being a date as much as just two friends hanging out.

“Sure thing,” he says. “So, I'll see you on Wednesday night at youth group. Rick says we're meeting early again.”

“Of course we are.” I nod.

“And I'll get in touch with Peter about Friday, if you'll let Layla know.”

I nod again. “Will do. Have a good night, Tyler.”

“You too, Paige. Thanks for letting me join you for dinner.”

Tyler waits until I've climbed the stairs and unlocked my door before he waves and walks back to his truck in the parking lot. I close and lock the door behind me.

I can't even remember the last time I had such a great day.

T
he week passes by in a blur of phone calls from Layla with last-minute favors, last-minute work on the banquet, and quiet nights at home. Other than Wednesday night, I spend every night at my apartment, either working on things for Layla while movies play in the background or quietly eating my dinner while reading my Bible.

It is a relaxing but fast week.