The Happy Ever After Playlist - Abby Jimenez Page 0,30
“Come on.”
He took my hand as he led me to the register. He bought our desserts and my coffee, and he asked for twenty dollars’ worth of lottery scratchers.
Once we were back in the truck, Jason drove us around to the car wash. “Ready?” he asked, leaning out the window to punch a code into the kiosk.
“Ready for what?”
“The entertainment. Rainbow car wash.”
I laughed. “Oh my God, I love rainbow car washes! It’s been so long since I’ve done one!”
“You don’t wash your car?” he asked, driving in. Once the tires were taken over by the track, he leaned back in his seat and opened his ice cream.
I pulled the lid off of my sorbet and started poking at it with my spoon. “You haven’t seen my car.”
“The Corolla? I saw it in your garage when I was looking for the shop vac.”
“Well, then you understand why I don’t bother to wash it,” I said, looking up at the windshield as water started spraying over the truck. The long strips of fabric began slapping back and forth across the hood and the nostalgic citrus smell of the underbody wash drifted in through the vents.
“We need a soundtrack for this.” He fiddled with the radio. A mewing Lola Simone song came on and he quickly changed the channel. I hated her music too. Too Courtney Love for me.
He settled on KROQ, and when the foamy rainbow soap started to pour over the truck, we glanced at each other and smiled. We held the look for a long moment before staring back out through the glass.
I was so sensitive to him sitting there I could barely focus. It almost felt like neither of us was actually watching the car wash. Like our eyes were there, but our attention was on each other. At least mine was.
When the truck was done, Jason parked in front of the gas station and handed me ten dollars’ worth of scratchers. “If we win anything, we decide what to do with the money together,” he said, digging in his cup holder and producing a penny to give me.
“How do you think of this stuff?” I smiled, rubbing my penny on the scratcher. “I think this is the best date I’ve ever been on. First the guy saves me from a flood. Then he reveals he’s my favorite recording artist. He gives me an envelope full of money and buys me hardware, followed by a show and some gambling.”
“I could think of a few ways we could make it even better.” He gave me a devilish grin.
“Just so you know, I don’t even kiss on the first date,” I said, finishing my scratcher. I won two dollars and held the card up to show him with a smirk.
“And here I am, getting the upgraded car wash for nothing.”
I laughed.
I couldn’t believe what a good time I was having. I always figured my first date after Brandon would be a painful milestone. A Band-Aid to tear off. But it wasn’t. Jason made it easy.
Jason made it a lot of things.
“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked.
I smiled. “You want to see me again?”
“I don’t even want to drop you off at home tonight.”
I blushed. Again.
But then I remembered what day tomorrow was. It was the two-year anniversary of Brandon’s death. The day we’d taken him off life support. I had an agenda for tomorrow, a list of positive things I’d decided to do in his memory.
“I can’t. I have plans tomorrow. How about the day after?”
He looked slightly disappointed, but he nodded. “Okay, the day after, then. It’s a date.”
I didn’t object to him calling it a date, and he looked triumphantly back at the scratchers in his lap. He won five dollars.
“So what do we do with the money?” he asked.
I bit my lip, thinking. His eyes moved to my mouth again, and I smiled. “With seven dollars? How about we buy a chew toy for Tucker?”
“Great idea. We could take him to PetSmart on our next date.” He put the scratchers into the drink holder.
A guitar intro I recognized came through the speakers. “Oh, I love this song,” I said. “‘Name’ by the Goo Goo Dolls, right?”
He picked up my raspberry sorbet. “Yup. Can I try this?” he asked.
I nodded at his carton. “Give me yours.”
We sat listening to the music and eating each other’s ice cream. His was mint chocolate chip. We used each other’s spoons. Something about knowing that the little plastic utensil had been