Page 51 of Prime Time Romance

“Here. Try this. I brought an entire case of it with me when I came back from LA. It’s impossible to get outside of California. I think you’re really going to enjoy it.”

I take a swig. I think there’s a part of me that was fooled by the flask and expected booze. So when the taste of rotten apples hits the back of my mouth, it’s twice as bad.

“What do you think of the kombucha?” he asks.

It tastes like sadness.

I don’t tell him this, of course. Mostly because my mouth is still full and both unable and unwilling to swallow.

Instead, I draw a deep breath through my nose, telling myself that on the count of three, I’ll force it down.

One…

Two…

I’m too late.

My gag reflex overpowers my sheer will. Instead of swallowing, I spray. Like a Saturday-morning cartoon. All over the picnic blanket.

“I’m so sorry!” I pound my chest with my fist. “That must have gone down the wrong way.”

Spencer reaches up and tucks a kombucha-soaked strand of hair behind my ear. “It takes a little while to truly enjoy kombucha, but don’t worry, I’ve got lots of other stuff for you to try.”

I watch as he unloads several more containers from his backpack, each with a painstakingly long explanation of how hip/healthy/hard to find the item is. The entire time, all I can think about is how slimy and wet my hair is behind my ear and how desperately I want to untuck it. I honestly think this date cannot get any worse.

Then it gets worse.

“Try this.” Spencer holds up one of the containers, then watches with genuine enthusiasm as I try his homemade kale chips, followed by these brown disks that he claims are crackers but are more like patties of birdseed that stick so badly to the inside of my throat that I almost, almost consider taking another swig of kombucha just to get them down.

“Are you enjoying the picnic?” Spencer asks as I force down the final bite of birdseed.

“Mmmmm hmmm” is all I can think to answer, because even though I’ve wanted Spencer and Sloan to finally go on a date for years, I cannot deal with this food. I just can’t.

I’m searching for my next excuse. I’m full. Allergic. Feeling the onset of a stomachache. But before I can come up with something plausible, Spencer reaches into his backpack and pulls out yet another container. This one is a brown paper bag with the logo for the Carson’s Cove general store on the side.

“I got you something.” He holds out the bag.

I hesitate, terrified that there’s more food inside. But Spencer continues to hold it out until I relent and take it from his hands.

“Earlier, when I saw you at the store, you said you were there to buy batteries for your flashlights, but then you forgot to buy them,” he explains. “I figured I’d pick a couple up. I know how much you used to hate the dark.”

Sure enough, when I peer into the bag, there’s no food inside. Only two small flashlights. They’re plain and silver, and yet they make my insides gooey. This is the Spencer that I have been waiting for. The guy who knows his best friend down to her core. Who remembers that the night Sloan’s parents died, the power was out, and she had an irrational fear of the dark for years.

“Spencer, this is really so sweet. I’m touched. Thank you.”

Spencer dips his head to hide the faint blush on his cheeks. He reaches over and pulls one of the lights from the bag, flicks it on to prove that it works, and then places it back inside. “I know it doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, but I figured I’d have these handy just in case. Be right back.”

He gets to his feet and disappears behind a door, and a moment later, there’s a loud machinelike whirring. All of a sudden, the roof opens up, and the sky above is filled with a million twinkling lights. It’s spectacular. He settles onto the blanket beside me. Neither of us says a word. We just stare. Exist. Bask in the reminder of how insignificant we are. As I gaze up at the soft shimmer of the Milky Way, I feel it. That catch in my chest. That assurance that somehow Spencer knew me and how much I’d love this moment. That knowledge that all of this is somehow meant to be.

When I finally tear my eyes away, I find him staring at me with an unreadable look on his face.

“Thank you for this.” My eyes drift back toward the sky. “It’s really beautiful, and I love it.”

Spencer shifts his weight, moving him another inch closer so that our hands are almost touching.

“I need to ask you something.” His voice is so deep that I can practically feel it in my core.

“Anything.”