Incredible Times

Chapter 6

It's Friday.

And that can mean only one thing.

Tonight is my date with Bob.

The digital clock on my nightstand reads 5:26 p.m. I stand with my hands on my hips, staring down at the two dresses sprawled out on the bed.

I have been debating what to wear for the last twenty minutes or so. The one on the left, the navy blue one, is simply elegant. Not too fancy, not too plain. The other dress is emerald green, so vibrant that it takes a second to adjust to the color. 

I could wear the blue dress, and go for a modest, simple look, or I could wear the green dress and hope my bold choice doesn't make Bob go blind. 

"Oh, what the heck," I say to myself as I grab the emerald dress. I hurriedly change my clothes, and I stare at myself in the closet mirror. 

The dress, which I bought earlier this week, may be the best purchase I've made in my entire life. The three-quarter length sleeves hang loosely around my arms, creating an elegant flowing effect. My collarbones are exposed from the dramatic v-neckline that ends about halfway down my sternum. My dark red hair rests on my shoulders, brushing the fabric and complimenting the color pleasantly.

Satisfied with my choice, I finish getting ready. Just as I'm applying the last layer of mascara, I hear a knock at the door. I panic for a second, having lost track of time. I stretch my arm out the bathroom door and grab my pair of nude heels. I slip them on as I stumble into the living room, grabbing my handbag from the coffee table. 

I stop in front of the door, take a deep breath, and open it.

Bob stands with his hands in his pockets, taking up almost the entire door frame. He wears a white button-up shirt with a black jacket. As the door opens, he forces his fumbling hands to his sides, and lifts his head up. A smile immediately spreads across his face, making him look just as handsome as I remember. 

"Hey there," he says. "You--wow, you look great, Helen."

I blush furiously, but reply, "Thank you. You don't look bad yourself."

He offers me his arm, and I loop my arm in the crook of his elbow.

"How have you been?" he asks, as we make our way outside.

"I'm doing just fine," I tell him. "I've really been looking forward to tonight, you know."

He turns his head to look at me, and his blue eyes shimmer as he says, "Me too."

We reach his car, a black Oldsmobile with a black and blue hood. We clamber inside, and Bob starts down the road.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence, I ask, "So, where is it that you're taking me?"

"I thought I would leave that as a surprise," he replies.

"Oh, come on. Can I at least get a hint?" I implore, leaning back against the headrest and looking at him.

He glances at me sideways, and says, "I can confidently say that you've never been to this place before. It's a little out of the way."

I huff at him, crossing my arms. "Fine," I say teasingly.

He laughs, the smile on his face producing one of my own.

We continue to talk lightly over the course of the drive, which ends up being just over an hour. Bob pulls over when we reach our destination on the outskirts of town.

I look up at where he has taken me. A red awning stretches over the windows of the small building. In fancy white script, are the words Bruno's Pizzeria.