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Chapter Nine

Elle

“And that’s when, after years of waiting, my molars finally came in. Can you believe that? Four years later than the national average! Too bad my parents knew I didn’t believe in the tooth fairy anymore by then, because I wanted to get that money, you know?” Zeke says with a laugh.

I clear my throat, not quite sure how to respond. “So, thanks for that lengthy tale,” I finally say, trying to be polite as I never asked him to give me a thirty-minute summary of the coming and going of his baby teeth. That’s right, I now know when he lost every single one of his baby teeth, how much money the tooth fairy left under his pillow every time, and when his adult teeth came in. Every. Single. One. Let me tell you, that’s a lot of teeth.

“I bet your teeth were perfect the moment you were born,” he says with a dreamy expression.

With every word that comes out of his mouth, I wonder if it’s part of his script and he’s spoken those words to a dozen other girls, or if he’s being genuine. There’s no way to tell. It’s freaking me out how cheesy he is. I’m all for a guy being considerate, but there’s considerate and then there’s over-the-top-chivalrous-bordering-on-insulting. I mean, who in their right mind asks a girl whether she wants her pizza cut into pieces for her like she’s a toddler incapable of basic tasks? I had to swat him away with my napkin just so I could cut my own food.

“Actually, I wasn’t born with teeth. No baby is. Well, some are. One in every two thousand babies are born with teeth.”

He tilts his head back and bursts out laughing. “Oh, Elle, you’re so funny. I didn’t mean literally.”

I frown. Then what did he mean?

“That’s a fun tidbit of information, though. One in every two thousand newborn babies have teeth, huh.”

I shrug. “Weird statistics are kind of my thing. I love learning new stuff.”

As he signals the waiter to order dessert, I glance at my phone. It’s been an hour since I last texted Colton and he hasn’t replied yet. His date is probably going great, which for some reason makes me feel jealous. That doesn’t have to mean anything, though. I can’t imagine Colton and his date talking about teeth all night, so being jealous of a normal date isn’t something newsworthy.

The waiter arrives at our table and starts reciting the specials, but Zeke cuts him short, probably wanting to know when the guy’s molars came in.

“That won’t be necessary,” he says. “We’ll have the cheesecake.”

Before I can protest and tell him I absolutely loathe cheesecake, he turns to me with the kind of smile most kids have on Christmas Eve. “They serve the best cheesecake here. You won’t regret it.”

I offer him a thumbs-up in reply. At least I’ll be out of here after dessert. I’m sure he means well, but Colton turned out to be right. The guy has got to work on his moves. I can hardly remember why I agreed to go on this date. Someone must’ve spiked my bottle of water at work earlier, because when I returned from Paris I swore not to start dating anytime soon. Having my food cut for me and being forced to eat cheesecake is what I get for breaking my own promises.

I manage a couple of small bites, just to be polite, but then I tell him I ate so much pizza I can’t possibly have another one. I’m relieved he asks for the check when the waiter clears the empty dessert plates from our table. Yes, empty, as in Zeke took it upon himself to eat his cheesecake and mine.

Outside, a car horn toots. Zeke waves out of the window to the driver.

“Who is that?” I ask.

He shrugs while taking the check out of the faux leather folder. “Oh, that’s my mom.”

“Your mom?”

“Yeah, whenever I go on a date, she comes and picks me up. It’s her way of making sure I arrive home safe and sound. I mean, no offense, but not everyone I go out with is in their right mind if you know what I mean,” he says with a shudder.

Unfortunately, I do know what he means. Too bad the irony of his words is completely lost on him.

He puts his phone on the table and opens the calculator app. “Okay, let’s see. You had the Margherita pizza, two glasses of water, and one glass of wine. Oh, I almost forgot the cheesecake.” He laughs at his own words, and I try not to hit him with my napkin.

“You want to split the bill?”

“Duh, we both consumed food and drinks, right? Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for being a gentleman, but I need to know a girl really well before I’ll pay for her.”

I get forty bucks out of my purse and throw the bills on the table. “Zeke, there’s no need to calculate this to the penny. This should cover my part.”

He frowns. “But you only owe thirty-seven fifty.”

I shake my head in disbelief and sigh. “Well, you can have my change.”

“Cool, thanks.”