Chapter 7
(tags: same as for Ch 1-4)
Zach had written — what? — five different versions of a text message to ask Lydia out before he trashed each text, thinking he could do better.
Should
do better.
"Hey Lydia. Wanna hang Saturday night?" was not even a thought that made it into his head. Hook-up culture was not even in his head. Friends with benefits was not even in his head.
Not a single damned thing that might convey that Zach was nonchalant about asking Lydia out made it into his head. He wanted to go out with her so badly that he was nervous and anxious about making the right impression with her — even though she already told him she was going to say yes!
"Fuck it," he muttered, tossing his cell phone on his bed next to him as he lay propped up against the headboard.
I should call her to ask her out
, he finally decided.
I'm different —
she's
different — and all the stuff that's happened between us to this point makes this
way
different from any kind of first date that's going to happen as a result of her saying yes to a text about getting together sometime soon.
He knew it was the right decision. Call her. Ask her out. Be a gentleman, have some class. Don't take for granted that Lydia Tanner is like other women. She's special, so stand up and treat her special!
He picked up the phone and swiped to Lydia's number. But he paused before tapping to call.
What's the best first date I can plan for us?
he thought.
If I'm going to talk to her, I need to ask her if she'd like to do what I've planned for a date.
Zach laid the phone down to think this through . . .
***
. . . and when he wiped away the cum he'd spurted onto his chest after masturbating to thoughts of being with Lydia, he dropped the towel onto the pile of workout clothes and underwear he was going to wash later that day and pulled on some clean sweat pants, grabbed his phone, and walked to his desk and laptop.
Let's see what's happening in the city on Saturday night
. He clicked on his favorite search engine, and began scrolling to find something special that he hoped Lydia would enjoy.
Hmm . . . a first date that she'll remember forever
, he mused. After trying a search term or two, "romantic restaurants" came to mind, and the search yielded multiple lists compiled by various sources. He'd been to several of the restaurants but decided he liked a new bistro on the east side of the city best: the pictures showed an elegant room tastefully lit, not too big, tables not too close together, warm wood and a fireplace. "Soft, smooth jazz" was listed as part of the ambiance. And the reviews were excellent.
Done
, he thought to himself, and he picked up his phone to call, ensuring he could get a reservation.
What time?
he asked himself before tapping in the restaurant's number.
Do I need to plan dinner around some other activity?
He lowered his phone.
Of course! What's going to go with dinner? And is dinner before or after?
It had been years since Zach had given so much thought to planning a date.
A comedy club with dinner after?
he wondered, but he quickly discarded the idea.
No guarantee the comics would be good, and their material might be too over-the-top for us to enjoy together before we know more about each other,
he thought.
The opera?
The scene from the movie "Pretty Woman" flashed in his mind. It was an intriguing idea, but he quickly discarded it.
Not for a first date — it would probably come across as too showy, too much like I'm trying to impress her.
But Zach
did
want to impress Lydia. He just wanted to do it in the right way.
This has to be a perfect date, one that will make Lydia certain that being with me outside of being my trainer is something she wants more of
, he thought, idly scratching his chin with the edge of his phone as he leaned back in the chair at his desk.
A play? A concert?
It took half an hour before Zach had assembled a date agenda he thought was best: First stop would be one of his favorite spots for winding down after work — they had an inventive array of appetizers and munchies along with a nice beer and wine selection. Then he and Lydia would go to a play at the local university where the Theatre Arts Department was performing a feel-good musical.
Then
they'd go to the restaurant for a late dinner.
Working out all the timings, Zach figured he needed to make the dinner reservation for 9:45 PM, and he called the restaurant to lock it in. Next was the online purchase of the tickets to the musical. Then he called Maxine's, his spot for an always-dependable wind-down after work. One of the hostesses answered, and he asked to speak with Maxine. Letting him know it might take a minute because she was in the kitchen, the hostess forwarded his call, putting him on hold.
"Well, Zach Brenner," Maxine's unique, silky voice came through the phone after a minute or so, "what can I do for one of our favorite customers?"
"Hi, Max," Zach replied, smiling at the mental picture of Maxine, her perfectly applied make-up a trademark on her pretty ebony face. She would, of course, be moving a bit slowly through the kitchen on her arthritic knee, phone to her ear, no doubt leaning in over something to pass judgment on the state of its preparation before sending it out to the dining room and bar. "Just making sure you and your fabulous establishment are going to be the normal top-notch experience for something special I have going on Saturday night."
Max paused before moving to check on the preparation of a charcuterie board at the hands of one of the chefs. "Mr. Brenner," she said, one hand on her hip, "don't be coy with me. What you really mean is 'some
ONE
special' — isn't that right?"