She let go of his arm and turned to face him. “Having fun?”
He nodded forcefully, afraid she’d prod if he didn’t sound convincing. He couldn’t deal with any more serious discussions. Not now.
“I’m glad I’m here with you,” Cara said, and Gael wondered if maybe she’d had two shots when he wasn’t looking. It wasn’t exactly like her to be effusive.
A guy in a Jason mask stumbled past them, and for a second, he wistfully thought of Sammy, wondering where she was.
Cara shivered and started to rub her arms.
(Don’t do it, Gael. Do not do it.)
“You want my jacket?” Gael asked. She was wearing a long-sleeve white shirt that they’d stained with fake blood, but had left her jacket at the dorm, complaining that it didn’t go with her overall costume.
She shook her head. “I’m fine.” But her chin was shaking.
“Come on.” He started to unzip it.
“Uh uh,” she said. “Really, I’m fine.”
“Well, come here, then.” He put his arm around her, pulling her close to keep her warm.
It was nice. It helped to quiet all the crap running through his head. A gaggle of Angry Birds and evil piggies ran past them, and he realized, suddenly, that this was exactly what he’d wanted, just a couple of weeks ago. It was November tomorrow. He was free to pursue Cara now.
So why did he suddenly feel so hesitant?
Cara nuzzled closer to him. “Thanks,” she said. “Looks like I’m totally unprepared.”
“Looks like you are,” he said, a bit robotically.
He nodded to Cosmic, down the street. “You want to go get some nachos?” he asked. “Try to warm up a bit?”
Cara looked up at him and smiled. “That sounds perfect,” she said. “Just perfect.”
Cosmic Cantina was packed by the time they got to the front of the line, and it smelled like stale booze.
“Want to try and wrangle us a table?” Gael asked. “I can order the nachos. You want anything else?”
“Extra guac, please.” Cara smiled.
“You got it.”
Gael placed his order and stepped to the side, surveying the premises. At least half the diners were properly drunk, and the other half were well on their way there.
After Gael watched no fewer than three arguments break out and two bros fall to the ground, a guy in an apron whose forehead was beaded with sweat finally brought out the nachos. Gael’s eyes flitted around in search of hot sauce—the only bottle was being used by a Superman who could barely sit up straight. “You have any more hot sauce?” he asked.
“Only in the back,” the guy said.
“Okay,” Gael said. And when the guy didn’t move, Gael asked: “Can you get it?”
The guy looked at the crowd, then back at Gael. “I’m slammed, man.”
“Please?”
The guy rolled his eyes and headed to the back.
Gael opened the container and popped a chip into his mouth while he waited. He couldn’t help but think of the last time he’d had nachos, right before he’d kissed Cara. What had he been thinking, throwing himself at her like that?
He wondered again where Sammy was, then forced himself to stop.
“Here, man. Enjoy it,” the guy said sarcastically.
Gael smiled at the fresh bottle of hot sauce and threw an extra buck in the tip jar.
He grabbed the bottle and pushed his way to the back. “Sorry that took so long,” he said, as Cara sat up straight and brushed off the table with a napkin. “I had to ask them to get a fresh hot sauce out of the back.”
“Oh.” She tilted her head to the side, but she didn’t say anything, just looked at him. Finally: “You didn’t have to do that.”
Gael shrugged. “I know how you love your hot sauce. I didn’t want to disappoint.”
“Still,” she said. “I could have survived without it.”
Gael flipped the lid open and doused the chips with Valentina’s. “You could have, but you shouldn’t have to.”
She broke into a smile, one that was contagious. He smiled, too.
She didn’t touch the nachos, just looked at him. “You know,” she said. “It’s almost November. No real harm in . . . err . . . pretending it’s already here.”
Gael felt his heart beat faster, and he couldn’t tell if he was just nervous or what. Was it the shots? he wondered. Had she really had more than one after all? She was being so forward all of a sudden.
(Homegirl didn’t need alcohol to be forward. She was a Serial Monogamist. And her vow was almost up.) “Uhh,” he stalled.
“What?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t you rather say you made it the whole month?” He forced a smile.
Cara shrugged, popped a chip in her mouth. “Honestly, I don’t really care.”
He thought of what Sammy had said. A whole month without dating someone!
Wasn’t it just a tad ridiculous that she wasn’t even committed to going the whole month?
“I don’t want to be on your friends’ shitlist,” he stammered, trying to buy himself some time. “So how about we hang out on Friday?”
She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to deduce what he really meant. But Cara wasn’t the type to let a little hesitation on someone’s part hold her back. Serial Monogamists don’t really roll that way.
“All right,” she said. “It’s a date.”