Storm

Chapter 10

"I don't like your definition of funny, Dean," Ray said, then he got up and went to bed.

Dean sat alone facing the rain outside, the pizza slice growing cold in his hand. He heard Ray's steps behind and then over his head, then the squeaking of the floor as his friend lay down in bed. Wyatt's snoring paused for a second, but then resumed as consistent and motor-engine-like as before.

The rain hammered, stronger now – the wind was now so harsh that raindrops reached the glass doors of the pizzeria, painting it in a beady coat of water despite the distance from the sidewalk and the open skies.

Reflected on the glass, Dean saw the lonesome table under the back window. Eerie and silent in the middle of two wooden chairs. He stared.

He saw Vanessa there, the night they met. He remembered sitting behind the counter and watching her approach from the alley. She came in by herself and found the table by herself and sat herself down. She was beautiful and bold in a Euro-style wool beret and an oversized Evil Dead III T-shirt. Dean remembered thinking she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he remembered stopping Rodrigo, the waiter, on his feet by the shoulder and whispering, "I'll take her order," and then a second later, already in front of her with the pad and pen in hands, regretting that decision, because he had always sucked at flirting, especially when the girl was as pretty as that one was.

"Hi," Dean finally said, with a smile at her. "Is it just you?"

"Yes," she said. Her smile was pointy and thin and gorgeous, and Dean was panicking more than slightly.

"Okay... do you need a few minutes to decide, or..."

"I'll have two slices of whatever the best-selling pizza of the house is," she said, with confidence. "And a Coke."

That was the kind of girl Vanessa was: the kind of girl who entered a pizza place by herself, sat down and ordered the 'best-selling pizza of the place' like it was the most common thing in the world.

Dean was in love before dessert. And it was just as she finished dessert and was getting ready to leave that it dawned on him that he had to say something soon or he'd never see that woman again in his life. And he had to see her again. She ate random pizza by herself and she wore Evil Dead III t-shirts. He could have let her go if it was Evil Dead I or II. But it was Army of Darkness. He had to say something.

But what? What could he say? He couldn't just flat out ask her on a date without even knowing her name, could he? He supposed he could find her personal information via her bank account if she paid by credit card, but that seemed a rather psychotic-stalker-ish approach.

She was getting up now, and Dean still had no idea what to say when she approached, leaned her elbows on the counter and smiled. "There you go." She produced her credit card.

"Oh," Dean said. "O-okay. Did you enjoy the pizza?"

"Yes, thank you."

He took her card. She smiled. He tried desperately to come up with something smart to say.

He had nothing.

She tapped on the counter as the machine processed, scanning the place with curious eyes.

"So... you like Sam Raimi?" Dean blurted, finally.

She looked down at her shirt. "No, not really. I got this at the Salvation Army. I can't afford clothes, I'm sort of a recovering heroin addict."

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry, I just –"

"I can't even read, actually. What does it say?"

"I mean, I didn't mean to – it's a horror film. Bruce Campbell is a... he kills zombies and –"

The credit card machine beeped and spit out her receipt, and she laughed. "I'm screwing with you. Ash is like my third favorite cult horror film anti-hero."

"Oh." Dean snorted and tried to play down his embarrassment with a smile. "Yeah... I-I got that."

She smiled back at him, and he held her eyes, and then they were quiet.

This was it. He had to say something. He just had to. This was his only opportunity to –

"So... can I have my card back?"

"Oh!" Dean looked down at the card and receipt he was still holding and offered both to her.

"Here. Thank you for coming."

"Cool. Bye." She winked at him and turned back, and Dean watched her make her way toward the glass doors in silence, hating himself for not saying anything.

Just under the neon sign outside the door she stopped, held still a second, then turned back. She marched towards him, slapped the counter and said, "You looked like you wanted to ask me out just now. Did you?"

"What?"

"Just now, when we were waiting for my card. It looked like you wanted to ask me out but couldn't really sum up the courage. Right?"

Dean chewed on the word for a good seven seconds before coughing a shy, "Yes."

"Okay." She smiled. "Do it, then."

"Do... what?"

"Ask me out."

"Huh... are you going to say yes?"

"You won't find out unless you ask."

Dean remained quiet. What the fuck do you say to something like this!?

"Come on, dude, stop being a sissy and just ask."

He bit his lips. Finally, he looked up and pulled a deep breath and... "Okay. Do you wanna go out with me tonight?"

"Tonight? Sorry, I'm busy."

"The weekend?"

"Can't. I have a boyfriend. I was just fucking with you."

"Oh. Thank you. That felt good."

She laughed again. "You're an easy target. I'm Vanessa, by the way."

And then Dean shook her hand and took her number, and before she was completely out the door he was already convinced he'd be watching her walk down an aisle toward him one day.

He never did.