I went through the house and stood at the front door, listening. Tiffany was still upstairs getting ready, and Dad was in his study. It was just me and Manning, and that wouldn’t be the case for long. It seemed unfair that even though I’d seen him first, even though he was my friend, I had to savor my time with Manning before it was stolen.
I opened the door to Manning standing on the top step in jeans and a black, collared button-down he wore open over a white t-shirt. He’d shaved and gelled his hair back. I’d half expected him to show up in his work boots, but I thought he might even be wearing cologne.
I held onto the door handle until my hand began to sweat. Manning’s dark eyes mostly stayed on my face, except for the second they flashed down, all the way to my ankles. Maybe men had some kind of radar for freshly shaven legs.
“Hi,” I said. Dumb. I wanted to tell him how nice he looked.
A cricket chirped out front as Manning white-knuckled a bouquet of pink tulips. “You look different.”
I straightened my shoulders a bit and tried not to smile. “So do you.”
“Are you wearing makeup?”
“A little.” I pointed my foot, showing him my leg. “I got a tan.”
He didn’t look. I moved aside so he could duck into the entryway. One of his tennis shoes could easily crush both my bare feet. I was nearly eye-level with the flowers. It was a good guess—my mom loved tulips.
“I hope you like steak? We should’ve checked with you first.”
“I’ll eat most anything. But yes, Tiffany already asked.”
That meant they’d spoken since the fair on Saturday. When? It shouldn’t have surprised me. Of course, she’d had to tell him when to be here, and maybe she’d also mentioned the tulips. It occurred to me that they might’ve even seen each other.
“She called,” Manning said, catching my eye. “Just about dinner and timing and stuff. That’s all.”
“Oh.” We both looked up when we heard footfalls upstairs. Finally, I closed the front door. “Come meet my mom. My dad’ll be out in a second. He usually works in his office until dinner starts.” I showed Manning into the kitchen.
Mom turned around, smiled widely, and came to us. “It’s so nice to meet you, Manning.”
“You too, Mrs. Kaplan.” He held out the flowers, but she went past them for a hug. He bent down to make it easier but was otherwise stiff. “These are for you.”
“You shouldn’t have.” She took the bouquet. Mom had twisted her hair back from her face, and as she inhaled, a few strands fell forward. “My favorite. Thank you.”
“Thank you for having me. Dinner smells great.”
“I’ve been in here all evening, so even if you don’t like the steak, say you do.” Mom laughed. Nobody ever disliked her food, but she said that a lot. “Lake helped,” she said, and as an afterthought, added, “Tiffany, too. She’s great in the kitchen.”
“She is not,” I said. “She wouldn’t even set the table.”
“Lake, honey.” Mom chuckled and passed me the bouquet. “Put these in water and get our guest something to drink.”
I frowned. I just wanted Manning to know I’d done my part of the cooking with him in mind. But when he nodded at me and patted his stomach, I understood—he did know.
“I put some wine out on the bar,” Mom told me. “You like wine, don’t you, Manning?”
He hesitated. “Sure.”
It didn’t sound convincing. “Dad has beer, too,” I said.
“It’s okay. Wine is great.”
I put the flowers in a vase, then went to Dad’s bar and carried two heavy bottles back into the kitchen. I’d never opened wine before, though I’d seen it done plenty of times. I set them on the island and went to find the screw-looking thing Mom used. I rifled through a couple drawers before picking out what I was pretty sure was the right utensil. I had no idea how it worked, though.
“Did you grow up here, Manning?” Mom asked.
“Pasadena.”
I assessed the bottle of wine. The sharp part went into the top, but the top had a wrapper around it. Did that come off first?
Manning took the thingie—a corkscrew, that’s what it was called!—out of my hand and peeled away the foil.
“I know how to do it,” I said under my breath.
“You shouldn’t. You’re only sixteen.”
I watched closely as he stuck the sharp, coiled end into the cork. Exactly what I would’ve done, but when he bore down to screw it in, I was pretty sure I would’ve messed it up somehow. “I don’t know how to do it,” I admitted.
That earned me his first smile of the night. His neck muscles strained and the cork slid out with a pop.
I turned around to find Mom watching us. She pulsed her eyebrows and mouthed, So handsome.
He was. It was like our first date, me bringing him home to meet my parents. Manning moved around me, looking for wine glasses. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him where they were, because I couldn’t speak. I just wanted to watch him. Manning was here, in my kitchen, where I’d made him steak, and it was going well.
As he pulled down two wine glasses, he glanced at me. “You okay?”
I nodded. Hard. “Yes.”
“Got some sun today, huh?” He winked. “Were you outside?”
“I went to the—”