Slammed #4 (The Slammed Romance Series - Book #4) (4 page)

I kept up my end of the conversation as we drove
from the theater to the restaurant, telling Derick about the time that I had
seen Hot
Hot
Heat play live and how I’d managed to
talk myself into a quick meeting with the band. Derick peppered me with
questions about it—how I’d convinced the roadies and the security people, what
I had talked to the different band members about.

“Well,” I said, smiling slightly, “I had a press
pass from the high school newspaper, and I basically just sort of…pressed my
point with the security guy, saying that even though it was a high school
paper, I was a very professional type of person, and that I really wanted to write
an article for the school rag about the concert and the band.” I shrugged.

“And they actually bought that?” I laughed.

“Well it was partly true anyway; I did want to do an
article. But I think it was mostly that I just stood there not being rude or
fan girl-like, persistently arguing the point. The guy just eventually gave up
and led me back to where the band was hanging out in their green room.”

It was one of the more daring stunts I had ever done
in my life—the sort of thing that, looking back on it, was more the inspiration
of the moment than something I could have planned. If I had tried to plan an
attack to get backstage, it would have failed miserably from me overthinking
it. But because I had just had the idea and acted on it, I’d pulled it off.

The restaurant that Derick pulled up to was
obviously expensive; there were Mercedes, BMWs, and a few higher-end sports cars
parked among Priuses in the parking lot, and the red, brick building had an
understated sort of comfortable luxury appeal. Quietly elegant piano music
filtered through the outdoor speakers, and when Derick opened the door, the
smell of delicious things wafted out to greet us. When the hostess asked if we
wanted to sit inside or on the terrace, Derick looked at me for my preference.

 
“Let’s sit
outside,” I suggested; I hadn’t missed the braziers stationed around the
patio—it would be comfortable enough even with the autumn chill.

We sat down and I looked at the menu; for a long
moment I was both pleased and appalled. There wasn’t a single entrée under $25,
and most of them were closer to $40. Derick was definitely pulling out the
stops to impress me, and I was guaranteed a good meal—something that I would
probably be able to remember long after my memory of my date had muddled itself
into near-nothingness. I talked to Derick about the different items, trying to
feel out just how much he was willing to spend—but he insisted that I should
order whatever appealed to me the most, without worrying about price.

“If I had to worry about what your dinner would
cost, I wouldn’t have brought you here,” he said, smiling at me happily. “I
just really want you to have a good time, so please, anything that seems to be
the most interesting or tasty—feel free to order it.”

It was a hard decision even if I tried to take the
concern of money off of my mind. There were so many things that sounded so
delicious, and I was so hungry, that I couldn’t even remotely make up my mind.
I was a little surprised when the waiter came and took our drink order, not
batting an eyelash as Derick ordered wine for both of us and not carding either
of us. I supposed that if you went to such an expensive place, they didn’t
really think that anyone under a certain age would be among their clientele.

I finally settled on my selections from the menu,
giving into Derick’s insistence that I have one of each course: appetizer,
salad, entrée, and dessert. It would make for a long dinner, but
at least, I thought, there would be a good meal in my stomach and
apparently wine to help lubricate the awkwardness between us
. I tried to
take an interest in Derick’s detailed explanations about the differences
between several of the presidents and their policies, but I really couldn’t
make myself do more than just nod and occasionally make comments about a
particular president’s interaction with the press of their era and what it had
done to contribute to current affairs.

When the appetizers arrived, I was absolutely
relieved. Derick might be a perfectly nice guy, but he was tedious—and I
couldn’t feel any kind of spark of interest in him. Our conversation lagged as
we both tucked into our separate first courses; Derick had ordered oysters
Rockefeller, while I’d taken seared scallops with a kind of crouton. It was
delicious, and I savored every bite, taking only the few opportunities to talk
to Derick that I had to—when he asked how I liked my food, if I’d ever had
scallops before.

I sipped my wine and looked around idly; we were
clearly the youngest people at the restaurant, and I wondered again at the fact
that the waiter hadn’t been the slightest bit suspicious of the fact that two
college freshmen were in the restaurant ordering wine. But I decided abruptly
that it was just as well that no one had questioned it; it was easier to
tolerate my boredom with Derick with the help of the wine and the excellent
food. The salad came quickly and I used the excuse of more delight than I
really felt at the dressed mixture of bitter salad greens, sweet citrus and crunchy
nuts to keep my mouth full so I could avoid answering more questions about how
much I liked the food.

Derick seemed to have settled in by the time the
entrée arrived; at his goading, I had ordered filet mignon with pommes Anna,
grilled asparagus, and hollandaise sauce. Derick had ordered swordfish with
some kind of roasted tomato side and couscous, and seemed to be enjoying it
quite a bit. I was definitely looking forward to dessert—not only because of
the fact that I was excited for the crème
brulée
, but
also because once we had finished dessert the night would be nearly over.

Be
nice,
Evie
,
I told myself firmly.
It isn’t his fault that you find him boring.
One of these days, if the universe is fair, he’ll find some girl who thinks his
smarts and interest in economics and politics are absolutely charming.

The waiter came and removed the entrée plates, and I
tried to rack my brain for something to talk about next. I wondered to myself
if Derick was finding the date as hopeless as I was—if he was certain there
would be no second date, or if that decision had only been made by me. I was
spared the need to come up with something to talk about, however.

Before the dessert could come out, Derick and I were
interrupted by someone who rushed up to the table, looking barely dressed
enough to even be allowed into the restaurant at all. As the figure approached,
I thought there was something familiar about it—and then all at once I realized
it was Zack. I nearly dropped my wine glass in surprise at the sight of the man
I least expected to show up to interrupt my date.

Oh
god,
I thought with dread.
I thought his name
too many times.
It was actually as if I had summoned him with nothing more
than my thoughts. I took a deep breath as Zack came up to the table, stopping
short and looking from me to Derick.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him, setting down
my wine glass as carefully as I could. My hands were shaking slightly at the
sight of him.

“
Evie
, you’re making a big
mistake,” Zack said, crossing his arms and looking Derick over.

“I don’t happen to think so—and besides, what
business is it of yours?” Derick looked desperately uncomfortable and I
couldn’t blame him; for the first time in the entire night I could actually
sympathize with him.

“I went to your room to try and talk to you about
this whole stupid mess we’re in, but your roommate told me you were on a date.”
Zack scowled at me, his arms crossed over his chest and his dark eyes full of
brittle anger.

“We broke up Zack,” I said, trying to keep my voice
calm and level. “I didn’t see you chasing after me when it happened, and you
haven’t exactly seemed interested in trying to fix anything. So it’s none of
your business who I go on a date with.”

“Yeah, well, Jess obviously thought it was my
business because she told me you’d be here with this guy.” Zack gestured
dismissively towards Derick. “No offense, dude, but you are not the kind of guy
that
Evie
should be dating.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re a fine one to talk about
who I should be dating! Why do you even care? I’m sure there’s some sorority
sister just looking to hop into your bed and help you keep it warm.”

Zack let out a sound like a growl, his hands
clenching briefly into fists as he looked from Derick to me.

“This is a big mistake you’re making,
Evie
. I could really make you happy but you’re never going
to look past your own stupid insecurities to even listen to me.”

I shook my head. “The only person making a mistake
here is you. What the hell did you think it would accomplish to barge in on me
in the middle of a date? You know what, don’t answer.” Derick was frozen in his
seat, humiliated, obviously unwilling or unable to stick up for himself.
“You’re wasting your time and a stunt like this is not even remotely the way to
get me back.”

Zack stared at me for a long moment and exhaled
sharply, stepping back from the table.

“You’re making a big mistake,
Evie
,”
he said, turning to go. “But it’s obvious you don’t even want to believe me.”

I let out a sigh of relief as he stalked away from
the patio, out into the darkness of the parking lot beyond. I covered my eyes
with my hand.

“I’m really sorry, Derick,” I said, smiling wryly.
“I had no idea that he was going to do that—he and I aren’t even in a
relationship anymore.”

Derick shakily reached out and lifted his wine
glass, taking a sip. “You handled him well. I was starting to think we’d have
to call the waiter over to boot him.”

I smiled weakly. All I wanted was to finish my
dessert and get home, get out of the uncomfortable shoes, and take a long
shower before throwing myself into bed. Fortunately, everything seemed to
settle down once more as the waiter brought our desserts; I didn’t even put up
a token resistance when Derick took the check the moment it landed on the
table—I knew that I couldn’t even afford to pay for my half of the meal, or
possibly even the tip.

I let Derick walk me to my room, and even let him
put his arm around my waist, feeling shaken and frustrated and depressed by
Zack’s appearance at the date, even if I hadn’t particularly enjoyed Derick’s
company. I still had no intention of going on another date with Derick, but I
did let him kiss me good night at my door; I kept it as chaste as possible and
made the excuse that I was exhausted when I could tell that he wanted to be
invited in.

Jess was waiting for me on the couch. The moment I
had the door closed behind me, I kicked off my shoes and handed them to her.
“Well, that was a disaster of epic proportions,” I said, sinking down on the
closer chair and pulling my hair down and out of the style she had woven it
into
.

“Was Derick like a total jerk or something?”

I shook my head. “No, he was polite as could be. But
Zack decided to barge in just before dessert and humiliate me in front of an
entire restaurant full of people.”

Jess cringed. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her
head. “He came in here and demanded to know where you were, and I told him I’d
set you up on a date with one of my classmates in exchange for homework help.
He got the restaurant out of me and I told him like five times not to go—that
it would be stupid and you’d hate it—but I guess he decided that I had no idea
what I was talking about.”

I leaned back, closing my eyes for a moment.

“Yeah, he came right up to the table and told me I
was making a huge mistake, blah
blah
blah…it was
awful. And Derick had about as much spine as an overcooked spaghetti noodle.”
Jess grimaced again. “I will not be going out on a second date with him. If you
need more Econ help, go to the library and get a regular tutor.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Jess said. “The food was
good at least, right?”

“It was great. Now let’s see if I can make it to bed
without hurling it all up.”

CHAPTER
FOUR

It surprised me to realize that a month had passed
since I had broken things off with Zack and since the disastrous date with
Jess’ classmate. She did get the help that she had bartered a date with me for,
and she was confident in finishing up the semester with a good grade that would
let her go on to other more interesting classes. I had managed to put Zack more
or less out of my mind, and to prevent Jess from sending me on any more dates,
or even trying to make me go out with her to party; in fact, getting closer and
closer to finals, she was cutting back on partying on her own.

It had been a good break, and I was finally starting
to really and truly relax into life once more. After a week or two, I stopped
trying to hide out in my room and started to actually get involved in campus
life a little more. It helped that in the time since the final game of the
football season, the campus newspaper had put me onto covering the basketball
team. The first game I went to, when I interviewed a few of the players
afterward, one of them ventured the opinion that he had been proud of the way
I’d stood up for myself with Zack, that I was an impressive woman.