Layce Gardner - More Than a Kiss

"No, it's the suddenness of it that startled me."

"We could do it tomorrow. Or next week. Or some evening."

Amy shook her head, saying, "We can't do it in the evening."

"Um, okay, I understand. You already have plans and…”

Amy interrupted her, "No, I mean you wrote 'lunch' so we can't do lunch in the evening."

Jordan quickly wrote in the next book: Or dinner?

Amy read it and laughed. "What are you going to write in the third book?"

Jordan shrugged. "Depends on how well lunch goes. When would you like to go?"

"Now?"

"Right now?"

"Isn't that what you said? You wanted to do it right now?"

Jordan shook her head. "I'm confused. Are we still talking about lunch?"

Amy giggled. Jordan liked it when Amy giggled.

"How about if I meet you out front in five minutes?"

"That'd be great," Jordan said. “See you then!” She hurried into the hall and headed to the elevator. She felt like skipping. She felt like skipping and singing and laughing all at the same time.

Three’s Company

Jordan exited the sliding glass doors of the hospital and did a touchdown victory dance that looked a cross between clogging and disco.

"Does this mean the date is on?"

Jordan jumped. "My God! Don't sneak up behind me like that!"

"I didn't sneak. I walked like a normal person,” Edison said. “If you weren't so busy spazzing out, you'd have seen me," Edison said.

Jordan went back to her jubilant state, hopping from foot to foot. "She said yes. She said yes. She said yes!"

"So when’s the big day?"

"Today. Now.”

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now. She's meeting me out here in a few minutes."

Edison looked at her watch. "Okay. I guess I can do lunch."

"Not you," Jordan said. "It's a date. That usually means only two people. You know, the whole ‘three’s a crowd’ saying."

“I thought it was ‘three’s company.’”

“That was the TV show, not the saying.”

“I liked that show. I had a crush on the brunette. What was her name?”

“Maryanne, I think.”

“No, that was the brunette on Gilligan’s Island .”

“Aha! I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to divert my attention so you can go on my date with me. But it won’t work because her name was Janet,” Jordan said.

"I'll drive you, that's all. I won't sit at your table or anything."

"You're going to stare at us. I know you. You're going to sit and stare and eavesdrop. I won't be able to concentrate."

"I will not! Besides, it's my car. I drove you here. How will you get home if I don't go and take you home after? And you don’t want her to see where you live until the house is finished. Your house will make you seem like you never finish a project. I read a book once that had this psychological test where people went into dorm rooms and did a personality profile on the person based on what they saw. It was spot on. That’s why if you’re checking out a person you should go to their place and see what it looks like, then you’ll know if you want to date them."

Jordan was horrified. “The state of the house is your fault.”

“Ah, but you let me do it,” Edison said.

Amy appeared behind them. "I'm ready."

Edison and Jordan jumped. Edison said, "My God! Don't sneak up on us like that!"

Amy laughed. "Yep, that's me. Miss Sneaky Pants."

“Edison is going to be our chauffeur. She'll be driving us to lunch. If that’s all right."

"Great!" Amy said. “I left my car at the dealer.”

“Is something wrong with it?” Edison asked, her I-can-fix-it-myself proclivity quivering with anticipation.

Jordan was certain if Edison ever got hold of Amy’s car it would end up being Chitty Chitty Bang Bang – except it wouldn’t be able to float or fly. Or even drive.

“No, they’re giving it the once over so I can pick up my new car after work.”

“New car?” Jordan asked. “What kind?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Are you going to show me the surprise sometime or will I always have to wonder?” Jordan asked.

“We’ll see how lunch goes,” Amy said, smiling mischievously.

"I'll go get my car," Edison said, giving Jordan the evil eye as she walked to the parking lot.

Jordan watched her go, thinking having Edison as a best friend was like having a cold sore – she never went away and as long as she was around, Jordan would never get kissed.

Date or Date-Date?

As Jordan sat scrunched in the back seat, listening to Edison and Amy chatter, she began to wonder if this was a real date in the conventional sense that the word “date” implied. Meaning: two people sharing a meal, a couple of hours together, with romantic intentions. Maybe Amy didn't know it was a date. Maybe she thought it was friends going to lunch together. Maybe she thought they were going to talk about girl things and tandem eat sandwiches. How could Jordan let Amy know that she considered their mutual sandwich eating a date-date and not just a date without scaring her off? Then again, if it did scare Amy off didn't that mean she didn't want to date-date? And wouldn't it be better to find that out on the date before it became a date-date?

Jordan was working herself into a headache. This was exactly why she didn't date-date. Irma was so much easier. She wished she had taken Amy up on that Vicodin offer. Then she could pop one right now and relax.

Edison scored a parking spot right in front of The Original Dinerant, which was a miracle in itself. Jordan even had enough change to plug the parking meter for two hours. Another miracle. They got a table right away, a window seat – yet another miracle.

“Wow. This place is really cool. It’s like retro,” Amy said. She pointed to the staircase. Where does that go?”

Jordan and Edison looked around as if seeing it for the first time. They always ate here so they no longer realized the grooviness of the place.

“There’s a lounge upstairs with couches and a floating fireplace. It’s pretty awesome,” Edison said.

Edison led the way upstairs, giving a tour of the couches and floating fireplace like she was the owner of the place. Jordan sat at a table and studied the menu while Edison chatted up her date. She hoped Amy couldn’t see her seething behind the menu.

Ten minutes later, Jordan and Amy had both ordered a turkey sandwich with baked chips and extra pickles. Jordan took their turkey symbiosis to be an omen of their compatibility. She was silently pleased that Edison ordered breakfast.

Jordan caught Edison's eye and made head motions away from the table. Finally, Edison figured out what Jordan was trying to communicate in charades. She stood and said, "Well, ladies, if you'll excuse me now."

"Where are you going?" Amy asked.

"Um…" Edison said. "Um…"

Jordan jumped in with: "She likes to eat alone.”

“I do?” Edison said. She quickly changed her question to a statement, “Yes, I do.”

“I’ll tell our waitress to send your crème brulee French toast up to the lounge," Jordan said.

"Why?" Amy asked.

"She has an eating disorder. That’s why she’s having breakfast instead of lunch at lunchtime," Jordan said.

"Oh no, but lots of people order breakfast food for lunch," Amy said, concerned.

"Not an eating disorder per se," Edison said. "More like an eating… phobia."

"You're afraid to eat?" Amy asked.

"With other people," Jordan answered for her.

"It's called masticaphobia," Edison said.

"Never heard of it, but I’m not a psychologist," Amy said. "If it would make you more comfortable we can leave. I don't want you to feel like…"

Jordan interrupted, "Stay, Ed. Sit down and eat with us." She couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice. "Please."