Page 13 of The Status Situation

Her eyes bounce between mine for a few moments, and my stomach drops when she doesn’t respond right away. However, she then turns and drops into the passenger seat without a word, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t bother hiding my smile as I close the door and round the hood to the driver’s seat.

We are on the road in a matter of seconds, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Maria wringing her hands in her lap.

“You’re nervous,” I point out, trying to initiate a bit of conversation. While I want her to be comfortable around me, I also want to understand. I want to know what’s causing her hesitation when it comes to going out with me.

She sighs. “I am, sorry. I’ve just never been on a date with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

She nods and looks over at me. “Someone so out of my league.”

It’s funny. You hear something so much, it starts to lose its meaning. That’s how it is for me when people talk about my looks and such. But hearing it from her is like hearing it for the first time all over again.

“Or maybe you’re out of mine,” I say, winking at her.

Shaking her head, she laughs and turns her attention back out the window. “Yeah, I doubt that.”

One comment. That’s all it takes to awaken this primitive desire to protect her, even from herself. Her view of her self-worth is so skewed, and I want to change that. I have to. I want her to see what I see when I look at her, and I know that’s going to take time. I just have to make sure that I’m given the chance to do so.

Six

Maria

My heart hasn’t stopped pounding since Mark approached me after work. It’s even worse now that he has my hand firmly clasped in his as he leads me into the restaurant. I really hope my hand isn’t clammy, because this whole situation is embarrassing enough.

I still can’t believe this is happening. It’s not what I had in mind when I changed my status last night, and I’m still trying to figure out both how we got here and how I feel about it. Darius was obviously on board with everything because he practically threw me at Mark as soon as he got the chance. I, however, am not so sure. Despite what Mark has said, I know that I am out of my depth here, and everyone else is going to know it too.

This place is obviously popular and is so busy that about half a dozen people are waiting to be seated just inside. Many turn to look at us as we enter, and a few even make note of our joined hands. The expressions that follow say exactly what I’ve been thinking: They can’t believe we are here together. I’m pretty sure that some even assume I must be family.

My low self-esteem has me wishing that the ground would swallow me whole. It’s been a long time since it’s been this bad, but I have never been on a date with a guy who’s built like a Greek God. In fact, there’s a part of me that’s still waiting for the punch line to whatever cruel joke this is. A guy looking the way he does has no business being seen with a girl looking like me.

Mark, on the other hand, is as cool as a cucumber, pulling me past the waiting patrons to the hostess’ podium, where a man and a woman are looking over something on the computer. He’s calm and confident, and he holds himself the same way. They both look up at us as we approach.

A look of recognition crosses the man’s face only seconds before he grins. “Mark, you made it!”

“We did,” Mark replies. He pulls me next to him and wraps an arm around my waist as if to keep me close. His fingers brush against the small sliver of skin between my shirt and my jeans, and my nipples harden in response. He should not have that kind of effect on me.

The man looks between Mark and me, his smile growing as he holds out a hand toward me. “I’m Jim.”

“Maria,” I reply politely, shaking his outstretched hand.

“Maria.” He repeats my name as if testing it out, and for several moments, he continues to stare at me before he finally grabs a couple of menus and steps around the podium. “Alrighty then. Follow me, you two.”

With Mark’s hand still on my waist, the two of us follow Jim through the crowded restaurant.

It’s a nice place; not fancy, but not super casual either. There are mostly couples here, of varying ages, and the tables are even topped with white tablecloths and a couple of tea-light candles in those little glass jars that some use as fish bowls for beta fish. I like it. It’s cozy.

Our table sits at the back of the restaurant against the wall. The dividers in between the tables are high and provide a sense of privacy, and we are far enough from the windows that the dim light is all we have to see by. It’s definitely got a more romantic vibe than the other tables, and I wonder if that’s intentional.

“Is this alright?” Jim asks.

“It’s perfect, Jim. Thank you,” Mark replies, motioning for me to sit first.

I slide into the booth and set my purse on the bench seat next to me. As I do, Jim places the menus down on the table, first in front of Mark, then in front of me. I expect him to leave since hosts don’t usually hang around the tables, but he doesn’t. At least, not right away.

“I have to say, Maria, you must be something special.”

With a nervous smile, I look up at him. “What?”