The restaurant is crowded by the time we arrive ten minutes later.
“It looks like there is a wait. Should we go somewhere else?” Ash wonders.
“I’m fine with waiting,” I reply. I do not want to make him drive halfway across the country in search of food. By now, all of the restaurants are almost guaranteed to be packed.
“Sounds good to me. The food here is usually delicious,” Ash answers, getting out of the car. He opens the car door for me. I am suddenly reminded of romance books. Perhaps I will read a romance book when I get home. Now I feel like reading. I shove these thoughts to the back of my brain for the time being, reminding myself that there will be plenty of time later to catch up on reading.
As Ash opens the door to the restaurant, the noise hits us like a wave. There is definitely going to be a wait. That wait, as the hostess informs us, will be approximately twenty minutes. She lets us know that we can sit down on the benches lining the wall as we wait. She is wrong about that. The benches are all full.
After twenty five minutes of standing in a claustrophobic restaurant entryway, we are led to our seats. The seats are, of course, at high tables. Ash can’t help but laugh as he helps me onto the chair, which taller than I am.
“So, this is going well,” Ash jokes. He starts to say something else, but a loud wail interrupts him.
We both look at the family of six young children and two harassed-looking adults seated behind Ash. One of the children has decided that now is the perfect opportunity to throw a tantrum. Ash shrugs apologetically as he turns to face me.
“We could try asking for different seats,” he starts, leaning halfway across the table so I can hear him over the child.
“It’s fine,” I assure him. There aren’t any other seats available anyways.
“Argh!” Ash exclaims. I try not to giggle. One of the children at the table behind us has decided to pull his hair and shows no signs of letting go. The parents glare at Ash, as if he took the child’s hand and forced it into his hair.
The waiter arrives as Ash is trying to disentangle himself from the child’s grasp. He gives us a quizzical look, then asks if he should come later.
“I’m ready to order,” I tell him.
“Me too,” Ash adds, trying to tug his hair out of the kid’s hand. “Could I have a lemonade please?”
“I’d like a water,” I say, leaning across the table and trying to help Ash.
“Uh, would you please discipline your child?” the waiter hesitantly asks the parents of the hair fetish kid. He seems to have realized that the kid is not supposed to be yanking Ash’s hair.
“He’s not doing anything,” the mother responds stubbornly.
“Actually…”
“Fine,” the lady sighs, as if this is all a bother. “Jimmy, get off that stranger.”
“But mom, I don’t wanna!” the kid protests, but he finally releases Ash. Ash rubs his head, then scoots forward in his seat so the kid will not be able to reach him.
“I repeat: so this is going well,” he laughs.
“You’re hair just can’t catch a break today,” I tease.
“I’m going to be bald by the time this night is over!” Ash exclaims, rubbing his head again.
“I guess it could be worse,” I answer optimistically.
“How, exactly?”
“Well, we could be hiking,” I respond with a mischievous grin.
“That’s a good point,” Ash admits, smiling.
The family with the misbehaved children leaves while we are still waiting for our food. I am relieved at first, but what comes next is nearly as bad.
“What is that noise?” Ash wonders.
“The people behind you,” I reply with a grimace. They have been loudly making out since they sat down. I never knew that kissing involved so many smacking noises. It is incredibly disturbing and not at all romantic.
“Eww,” Ash says.
“I think they’re trying to consume each other’s faces,” I inform him.
The waiter arrives and dumps a ton of food and two drinks on our table. Ash and I glance down at the meal, then back at the waiter.
“We haven’t ordered yet,” I tell him. He shrugs and wanders off without a word. Ash and I turn back to each other.
“What exactly is this?” Ash asks, wrinkling his nose.
“From the smell of it, some form of skunk,” I answer, pinching my nose with my fingers.
“Probably a rotten one, topped with twenty pounds garlic” Ash says. His voice is squeaky, since he is now pinching his own nose.
“How do we get rid of it?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Ash responds. I am scanning the room around us for the waiter when Ash’s brown eyes suddenly widen.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Those are alcoholic beverages,” Ash tells me, motioning to the drinks in front of us.
“Yikes.”
“It gets worse,” Ash warns me, eyes widening further. “See those people staring at us?”
“Yeah,” I respond, following his gaze.
“Those are my parents’ friends.”
We watch silently as one of them takes out a cell phone and calls someone. We both know who the call is headed to.
“We need to get these away from us as soon as possible,” I tell Ash. This is much easier said than done. In fact, returning the drinks suddenly gets a whole lot harder.

“That’s our food. You stole it,” the extremely large, muscular man standing in front of our table informs us. His equally angered looking girlfriend is clinging to his side, obviously wanting their food so they can get back to slobbering on each other like affectionate newborn puppies.
“We did not mean to take it. It was delivered to the wrong table,” Ash explains. He is trying to sound calm, but he looks worried. I am also worried. Ash may be tall, but this guy is a foot taller and clearly athletic.
“Oh really?” the guy asks, folding his arms.

“Yeah. Uh, I guess you could say the salad got tossed...to the wrong table,” Ash jokes awkwardly. This just further infuriates the guy.
“This is all a joke to you, eh?” he asks.
“No, I, umm, make jokes when I’m nervous, and, uh, why am I telling you this? I’ll, uh, shut up now,” Ash stammers.
“Just…take your food,” I tell the couple. It takes all of my lacking courage to get this out. It sounds more like an intimidated squeak than an actual sentence.
“What was that?” the girl asks, raising an over-plucked eyebrow.
“I…I said take your food!” I order, my voice only slightly louder than before.
“We shouldn’t have to. You shouldn’t have stolen it. Now give us our food, or else.”
Seriously? The guy teaches us a lesson in manners, then threatens us? Not to mention the fact that he keeps refusing the food, then asking for it.
“We didn’t steal your food,” Ash repeats.
“What do we do?” I whisper to him.
“Uhh,” Ash stammers, eyeing the guy, who is now flexing his muscles. “Run!”
He grabs my hand and together we dart past the aggressive couple, out of the restaurant. Only once we are safely driving away do we dare to speak. By now, the sky has grown dark. It is raining.
“I feel a bit bad,” Ash admits.
“Why?”
“We didn’t pay for our food.”
“It wasn’t our food.”
“Good point.”
His phone rings. He glances down at it, then gives me a pained look. “My mother.”
I can hear her screaming from my seat beside Ash.
“Alcoholic drinks! Ash, you are in such big trouble when you get home-”
“Mom-”
“Oh, no, you’ll let me finish. When you get home-I just got a text from Frank. Sorry for the confusion, sweetie. I knew you weren’t the one who ordered those drinks! Bye, have fun on your date!”

Ash and I burst into laughter.
“So, now what?” I ask.
“You’ll see. I want it to be a surprise.”
The surprise is a beautiful library, about ten minutes away.
“This is gorgeous,” I tell Ash as he parks the car.
“Wait until you see the inside of it,” he responds.
We enter the library at a run. The slight drizzle of ten minutes ago is now a downpour. Ash gives me his coat, but I am still drenched and shivering when we get inside.
“Wow,” I breathe, gazing around me. I am surrounded by a forest of bookshelves. In front of me is a winding marble staircase, leading to the second floor of books. There is even a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. That is all I get a chance to see.
“Get out!”
Ash and I turn to face a furious woman, carrying a stack of books.
“What-”
“You think this is funny, you hoodlums? You are getting the floor wet! You’ll ruin the books! Out!” the woman shrieks.
“I’m sorry, there’s a rainstorm and-”
“Out!” the woman repeats, interrupting Ash a second time. We hurry away.
“I’m sorry. This really isn’t how I imagined our first date,” Ash apologizes as we return to the car.
“It’s not your fault,” I reassure him. “Hey, why don’t we go get coffee or something to warm up at the café nearby?”
“Sounds good,” Ash agrees.
When we get there, we find that it is karaoke night. Before we can order our drinks, a stranger herds us up onto the stage.

What’s going on?” I ask Ash nervously. “I can’t sing!”
“I’m not sure, but I guess we may as well go along with it. I can’t sing either, but what else can go wrong tonight?”
He has a point. When the music starts, we both burst into song, completely unembarrassed. It sounds like a piece of metal getting caught in a blender, in my opinion. The audience seems to feel the same way.
“What was that?” I ask over the ‘boo’s from the audience. Whatever the object was splatters on the wall behind me.
“A tomato,” Ash replies. “Wait, where did they get a tomato at a coffee place?”
“Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?”
“Good point.” Ash takes my hand and, for the second time tonight, we flee into the rain. At least the tomato will wash off from the downpour.
“Janice, I’m really sorry,” Ash apologize yet again as we drive to my house.
“Ash, stop apologizing. It isn’t your fault!” I exclaim.
“I know, I just pictured it so differently.”
“So did I, but this wasn’t too bad,” I tell him.
“So far, we’ve been threatened, screamed at, and pelted with fruit.”
“It could be worse. Other than the running, I had a pretty good time,” I say honestly. Ash and I actually had some interesting conversations.
“Me too. Do you think we could try this again sometime?”
“I’d love to,” I reply as Ash parks the car in front of my house. He opens the car door for me, then takes my hand.
“You have a birthmark on your finger,” I observe.
“I think that’s a tick.”

Ash and I burst into laughter.
“So, now what?” I ask.
“You’ll see. I want it to be a surprise.”
The surprise is a beautiful library, about ten minutes away.
“This is gorgeous,” I tell Ash as he parks the car.
“Wait until you see the inside of it,” he responds.
We enter the library at a run. The slight drizzle of ten minutes ago is now a downpour. Ash gives me his coat, but I am still drenched and shivering when we get inside.
“Wow,” I breathe, gazing around me. I am surrounded by a forest of bookshelves. In front of me is a winding marble staircase, leading to the second floor of books. There is even a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. That is all I get a chance to see.
“Get out!”
Ash and I turn to face a furious woman, carrying a stack of books.
“What-”
“You think this is funny, you hoodlums? You are getting the floor wet! You’ll ruin the books! Out!” the woman shrieks.
“I’m sorry, there’s a rainstorm and-”
“Out!” the woman repeats, interrupting Ash a second time. We hurry away.
“I’m sorry. This really isn’t how I imagined our first date,” Ash apologizes as we return to the car.
“It’s not your fault,” I reassure him. “Hey, why don’t we go get coffee or something to warm up at the café nearby?”
“Sounds good,” Ash agrees.
When we get there, we find that it is karaoke night. Before we can order our drinks, a stranger herds us up onto the stage.
“What’s going on?” I ask Ash nervously. “I can’t sing!”
“I’m not sure, but I guess we may as well go along with it. I can’t sing either, but what else can go wrong tonight?”
He has a point. When the music starts, we both burst into song, completely unembarrassed. It sounds like a piece of metal getting caught in a blender, in my opinion. The audience seems to feel the same way.
“What was that?” I ask over the ‘boo’s from the audience. Whatever the object was splatters on the wall behind me.
“A tomato,” Ash replies. “Wait, where did they get a tomato at a coffee place?”
“Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?”
“Good point.” Ash takes my hand and, for the second time tonight, we flee into the rain. At least the tomato will wash off from the downpour.
“Janice, I’m really sorry,” Ash apologize yet again as we drive to my house.
“Ash, stop apologizing. It isn’t your fault!” I exclaim.
“I know, I just pictured it so differently.”
“So did I, but this wasn’t too bad,” I tell him.
“So far, we’ve been threatened, screamed at, and pelted with fruit.”
“It could be worse. Other than the running, I had a pretty good time,” I say honestly. Ash and I actually had some interesting conversations.
“Me too. Do you think we could try this again sometime?”
“I’d love to,” I reply as Ash parks the car in front of my house. He opens the car door for me, then takes my hand.
“You have a birthmark on your finger,” I observe.
“I think that’s a tick.”