“You look gorgeous,” Justin gushed- yes, he gushed- when I reached the limo. “Sorry I couldn’t come to the door myself, but I didn’t want to intrude.”
I knew what he meant. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to see Britney either. Besides, had he come to the door, he would have seen me before I changed into the pale yellow Gucci dress I’d almost forgotten about in the back of my closet. I looked pretty good if I may say so myself.
Even though I felt completely comfortable around him, something in my mind wanted to question the whole thing. I took a deep breath and began thinking at a mile a minute. Should we really be going out? And so soon? I mean, we haven’t been friends that long, not to mention the break up and all. Oh my god, I can’t breathe.
I think my sudden need for air was noticeable, because Justin leaned over and placed his hand on my arm. “Breathe, Becca. Breathe.”
I slowly exhaled the breath I’d forgotten about.
We were somewhat silent for a while, which was to be expected. Less than 6 months ago, we’d only spoken in passing, and now we were on our first date. We eventually warmed up to each other and were back to our old antics. Once again, we amused ourselves with worthless, but interesting tidbits of information.
I found out that his 4th grade music teacher, Mr. Cuthbert, told him he croaked, rather than sang and refused to give him the lead in the Christmas pageant. (It’s amazing what deep wounds can stem from such ridicule.) I told him about growing up in New Orleans and my first Mardi Gras. In my defense, I was drunk, and I wanted the beads, but you don’t need any details.
Though I wasn’t really paying attention, the tires soon turned from the comfort of smooth, paved road and unto a gravel path. I felt the car come to a halt and the door was opened for us. The view it revealed was absolutely amazing.
“Looks like we’re here,” he smiled brightly.
“Where exactly is here?” I took in the beach and rolling sea stretched out in front of us. The tide was pretty low, but every once in awhile, a wave would crash on the shore, sometimes breaking on a jagged rock. The air was clear and the stars sparkled in the night sky.
He cleared his throat and put on a thick French accent. “‘Zis is our own private beach tonight. And to ‘elp us enjoy our dining experience...” He clapped his hands twice and Eric and Mike smiled back at us.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Sure, it was corny and a little overdone, but his effort had to be commended.
Being the gentleman that he is, Justin pulled out my chair and sat across from me. Somehow, he’d managed to coerce Mike and Eric (though I have a feeling it didn’t take a lot of convincing) into acting as waiters for our personal table for two. The façade was complete with two candles and Mike picking at a little guitar. He had no idea what he was doing. He even had to keep himself from laughing when one of the poor, overworked strings popped.
Eric brought out the wine and poured it without spilling…well, without spilling too much of it.
“What is this place?”
“This is my own little secret. Whenever I’m having a bad day and I can’t reach you, I come here and just try to clear my mind. I’ve never brought anyone besides those two here before. But that’s only because they’re convinced I’m gonna’ be mobbed by sea urchins.” He said this part a little louder so one of the ‘waiters’ might hear his complaint. “It’s something really special, you know? Too special to bring just anyone here.”
Reaching over the table, our hands connected. Our fingers instantly laced together, more so out of comfort than conscience.
The rest of the conversation flowed smoothly and naturally. He had experienced so much already in life; things I could only dream of one day experiencing. Plus, his voice was so smooth, I could’ve listened to him speak forever. Even better was the fact that he was truly interested in me and what I had to say.
I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d felt so comfortable with in such a long time. Honestly, I didn’t want to find anyone else. I liked sharing this connection with only one person and Justin Timberlake certainly wasn’t a bad pick.
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