Sway by Amy Matayo

smiles, but then seems to think better of it. “Not that I’m not a gentleman, because I really do believe in helping women out and—”
    “If you set one foot out of the car to give her a hand, I’ll kill you.”
    He laughs and runs a hand across the steering wheel. “I’ll admit my life could be better, but it’s the only one I’ve got, so I think I’ll sit here for a while.”
    “Good decision.”
    We sit in silence, which isn’t uncomfortable as long as we have Lucy to entertain us. But then she walks into the apartment and closes the door, and the reality that we’re completely alone descends inside the car like a wild-eyed monster. Suddenly, I can’t think of a thing to say, even though my mind is shooting off ideas like a ranger blasting silver bullets. Talk about the weather. What about the stock market? Ask him if he likes football. But I hate football, so what would I follow it up with? Frantic and frustrated, I move on to the benefits of wearing sunscreen, my doubts about Global Warming, the outrageous price of milk. The price of milk? It’s at this point that I’m fairly sure I’m insane. I’ve been with this guy for—I check my watch—nearly four hours now, and I choose this moment to get nervous.
    “Are you finished freaking out over there? Because I swear I won’t bite. Not even a little,” Caleb says.
    I look at him, trying my best to appear clueless. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m certainly not freaking out.”
    He shifts in his seat to get a better look at me. “In the short time we’ve known each other, I’ve managed to pick up a couple of things about you. First, you’re a terrible liar.”
    I open my mouth to protest, but Caleb silences me with a look. “Your aunt has cancer? Give me a break.” I promptly close it as he continues to point out my shortcomings.
    “Second, you’re a germ freak.”
    “I am not!” At the exact same time, we both eye a package of wet wipes not-so-discreetly hanging out of my purse. Without a word, I slip it back inside.
    “Third, you have awful taste in Christmas trees.”
    I can’t let that one go. “Who doesn’t like fake snow? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” But he doesn’t listen, just keeps talking.
    “Fourth—”
    “This is more than a couple.”
    “…and I’m not sure you’re even aware of this,” he continues, ignoring me, “when you’re working out something in your head, you use your fingers to count off the options.”
    “I do not!” Still, I look down at my hands, wondering if it’s true.
    “A minute ago, you held up all five, one at a time. I might be wrong, but I’m pretty sure you were trying to come up with conversation starters.” He gives me a slow wink. “Am I right?”
    I close my eyes and swallow, so embarrassed that I’m that transparent. Why can’t I be one of those mysterious girls that make guys crazy with curiosity? Like Lucy with her eager string of one-night-stands. Like every other female on the freaking planet. “So what if I was? It’s kind of hard to think of things to say now that we’re not eating or shopping. It’s not like you were doing any better, leaving me over here sweating and unable to come up with anything—”
    “Then have dinner with me.”
    “What?” It’s so abrupt, I’m not sure I heard him right. But I find myself really hoping I did.
    “Tonight.” His mouth tilts in a lazy—yet hopeful—smile. “Have dinner with me. Sit across from me at a table for a couple hours in a nicer place than Cracker Barrel, and maybe we can come up with a few more things to talk about.”
    “Tonight?” I immediately chastise myself for sounding so uncertain. Of course I’m not uncertain. I’m flying inside.
    For the first time, Caleb looks worried. “Unless you have something else to do…”
    “No!” I practically shout the word, then try to recover by picking a piece of invisible lint off my yoga pants. “I mean, I have some homework, and I need