“Zone out a lot?” he guesses.

I feel myself flush. “Yeah. Sorry. Sometimes people talk to me and I don’t even register it.”

His smile widens. “You’re cute.”

He thinks I’m cute? My heart flutters and glows. I give an inner thank-you speech to my false eyelashes and this low-cut (but still classy) blouse.

He cocks his head, studying me. “I was saying that the movie’s over.”

I whip my head to face the screen. He’s right. I have no idea how the movie ended and couldn’t tell you what the major plot points were. I think it was a romance, but who cares? I’m much more interested in the romance happening here in this car. The lot is now deserted, granting us enough privacy to make my imagination go wild. Anything could happen. It’s just me, Nicholas, and—

The pink cardigan folded neatly on his back seat, which obviously belongs to a woman, and that woman isn’t me.

My stomach drops, and Nicholas follows my gaze. “That’s for my mother,” he says quickly. I’m not quite convinced until he shows me a happy birthday card beneath it, which he’s signed and added a personal message to. Love you, Mom! I inwardly swoon.

“That’s so nice,” I tell him, acutely aware of how isolated and intimate it feels in his car. I’m a mess of nervous butterflies, and the discarded mint wrappers keep snagging my eye. The movie’s over, so what’s he waiting for? “Thanks for taking me here. Not many drive-ins left these days. Probably only a couple in the whole Midwest.” It’s even rarer to find one that operates year-round. Luckily, we were provided with a complimentary electric heater to offset the insanity of doing something like this in January. We’ve got a few blankets spread over us, and for an out-of-the-box winter date it’s been surprisingly cozy.

“There are eight left in the state, actually,” he says. The fact that he knows this piece of trivia right off the top of his head is impressive. “Are you hungry? There’s a frozen yogurt stand near here that has the best frozen yogurt you’ve ever had in your life.”

I’m not a fan of frozen yogurt (especially when it’s cold out), but no way am I being anything but agreeable. We don’t know each other that well yet, and if I want to score a third date I need to come off as low-maintenance. I’m easygoing Naomi, fun to hang out with and definitely fun to make out with. Maybe after the frozen yogurt he’ll kiss me. And possibly unbutton his shirt. “That sounds great!”

Instead of fastening his seat belt and driving away, he hesitates. Fiddles with the radio dials until static fuzz tunes in to an upbeat indie song called “You Say It Too.” It hits me that he’s fallen so quiet because he’s nervous, not disinterested, which surprises me because up until now he’s exhibited nothing but confidence. There’s a charge in the air and my pulse accelerates with intuition of what’s to come. The rhythm of my blood is a chant. Yes! Yes! Yes!