Curse of the Second Date by J.A. Marlow

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CURSE OF THE
SECOND DATE
    WHOEVER SAID FIRST dates were the hardest of
any new relationship was a moron.
    But then, so was Jack. Who really ran out of
gas on the way to a restaurant except losers trying something on
their poor dates? In this day and age? No one. Except him.
    Slammed the car door on his date's fingers?
No one. Except him.
    Spilled wine down his new girlfriend's new
blouse? No one. Except him.
    A wonderful new girlfriend, until this
horribly cursed second date. All hope now lost thanks to him. All
his fault. No one else to blame. He figured he had until he drove
up to her house before it all ended.
    "How is the ice working?" Jack asked. Then
cringed to himself. He shouldn't have reminded her.
    Millie shifted the ice pack on her poor
fingers. Such delicate lovely fingers, too. "They are much better
now, thank you. You didn't get them really hard."
    Jack didn't know if she said that to make
him feel better. Whatever. Tonight he would take what he could
get.
    "The dinner tasted great." Even though the
restaurant ran out of the first three dishes they tried to
order.
    "Oh yes. Very good," Millie said.
    Jack turned the car down her street, his
throat tight. He didn't know what else to say. What other
conversation to attempt. Not much good to talk about tonight.
    Jack's hands gripped the steering wheel so
tight the skin stretched white over the knuckles. Why? Their first
date went so well. Why couldn't this one? After two dates they
would have had a good chance of riding out one bad day.
    But right now? Only after the second? Millie
was history, and he really didn't want her to be. They had so much
in common.
    "The weather is supposed to improve by the
weekend. Have you thought of hiking the new trail up at the park?"
Jack asked.
    "Hmm. Thought about it."
    Oh no. Minimal answers. Not interested in
talking.
    Yep, Millie was history.
    His time also ran out. He slowed for her
driveway, and reluctantly pulled in. Why couldn't he have a few
more miles to come up with something else to talk about? FInd a way
to soothe over such a bad date? To kick his brain into gear to
think of something!
    The moment the car stopped, he was out the
door. Even though she was already opening her door, he opened it
the rest of the way and extended a hand to help her out. Instead,
she handed him the icepack, taking it back only once she was
out.
    "Thank you for the lovely evening," Millie
started to say.
    Jack's heart sank. The standard line at the
end of a date. No, he wasn't ready.
    She fished the key out of her bag and
promptly dropped it. He barely avoided hitting her head as he bent
to pick it up. With the key in hand he guided her hand to better
hold the ice pack. "Please. Allow me. It's the least I can do."
    "Oh, that's really not necessary," Millie
said as she followed him up the walk.
    "Yes, it is. You are the type of woman who
inspires me to do the little things. Like what I saw my grandfather
do for my grandmother. A real lady." The short little speech
sounded so corny, and yet he meant every word.
    "Your grandparents sound lovely," Millie
said.
    And he'd never talked to her about them. Why
not? But then, this was only their second date.
    "They are. You would love them. In their
eighties and still flirting with each other." How he would love to
have a relationship like theirs. To know the love of his life
shared his. Every day a delight with that special person by your
side. Up until Millie, he hadn't thought he'd ever have a chance at
it.
    The key slipped easily into the lock. With a
click, the doorknob rotated freely.
    "Oh, be careful of the cat. He keeps trying
to get out, even though he's too old to be running around outside,"
Millie said.
    With that warning, Jack only cracked open
the door. Sure enough, yellow slit-eyes peeked through, staring up
at him.
    "Was he once an outdoor cat?" Jack asked,
finding something about the staring eyes unusual. But then, weren't
most cats unusual? All the ones he'd had