“I just thought… maybe you could meet my family? And we could go to church together.”

Cold, bubbly Dr. Pepper almost shot out of my nose. I looked away and around the pizzeria. I put the bottle to my lips to hide my eyes. “I just thought we were taking things slow.”

“Yeah. We can. There’s no hurry. I really hope you get along with my sister most,” he was staring again, waiting on a reply. Fidgeting with his hoodie pockets. He said he last counted and he had forty hoodies.

“I don’t know,” I smiled, looked into my lap. Maybe there was something there that would keep me paused, locked on today, in the now.

He tugged at his oversized hoodie and mopped back his curly hair. Clearing his throat, still staring at me for some sort of response.

What is wrong with me?

“Sometime later. That’s too much for now.”

“My sister has a wedding in November… I’m going to need a plus one,” he’s crunching the water bottle now, turning it in circles, looking up through his lashes.

When we came in, the pizza man called me Boss Lady. I ordered for the both of us, tried to pay but he took Noah’s money instead. Noah complained that I hopped out of the truck before he could open the door. The man said his girl didn’t touch that door. She knew the rules. Tough chance, baller.

I picked the seats and we sat. I got our drinks and ignored his outstretched hand. I ate slow, only a slice and a half. I’d just lost thirty pounds and wasn’t risking any bit of it sliding back on. And I still have more to lose. We went and got a cookie at Janies- well, he did. And we sat outside and talked until it started getting late. I stayed nearly four hours with him that day. When I come home, my family was dying to know all about it.

Funny thing; I don’t even reach his shoulder, he’s over six foot. He takes longer strides than I do, so I run after him. He’s older than me, taller too. He brought me flowers, and opened all the doors. He helped me into his truck and asked if I was okay. He texts me goodnight and goodmorning. He likes my scuffed cowgirl boots and likes my dog, Churro. He wears dark shades like a superstar, and printed hats like a baseball player. He has brown curls that peek out of his hat, and a sharp jaw. He’s a small business owner like me and has five siblings. Unlike me.

He sung on the way to Sonic the other day. He listens to all the same music as me. He’s religious, and kind, and shy. His hands shake when he’s close to me. His smile is lopsided and goofy. He called me pretty and said he liked my hair. He said he knew I was the kind that knew she was pretty and didn’t have to be told. But he told me anyways. To remind me.

I didn’t hug him, or hold his hand. I didn’t kiss him, or touch him. I didn’t make eye contact a lot, or stare. Instead, I watched the train go by, his singing over the tires, and his hand on the big wheel. And I thought hard about what he said back at the pizza place.

We’re going somewhere this Saturday. I have to decide where. He wants sushi. I haven’t tried it, and the thought of raw fish wrapped in seaweed is dissatisfying. But he said it’s his favorite food— alongside rice— and I have to try it.

I don’t know what’s next, what to do, or how I can do it. I just know I don’t stay at home very often now. And I’m super busy between him, home, and my business.