3.26 The Date IV

Rosalie was as awkward about feeding the ducks as Zoey had hoped she would be. Rosalie didn’t say it outright, but her furrowed brow as she tossed breadcrumbs into the water and watched the animals quack and swarm showed how she felt: mostly perplexed. It was a very Rosalie reaction.

Zoey was just glad she was humoring her, seeing how much of a ‘waste of time’ she must view all this. Though, her shoulders definitely seemed to have loosened from their usual ram-rod straightness. And there was a hint of a smile mixed in with her vague amusement and confusion. Zoey counted that as a win.

The ravenous beasts glutted, Zoey and Rosalie strolled away from the lake, headed for the spot she and Maddy had picked out for the picnic. They took a casual pace, chatting.

“I can’t believe how easy you’re making that look,” Zoey said, nodding at Rosalie’s shoes. Heels in grass—Zoey could barely manage heels on flat tiles.

Rosalie looked down then back up, as if not understanding what Zoey was referencing, at first.

Which was kind of her point. “Your heels. How do you do it? You’re like a … a panther.” Well, not the best comparison, but it’d been the one that popped into her head.

Rosalie raised her eyebrows.

“You’ve got this … fluid grace. When you move.” Zoey shrugged. “It’s impressive. But you’re sure it’s not a problem?”

“I already told you why I’m wearing them.”

“You’re not that much shorter than me.” Zoey paused. Well, that was a lie. “You’re just … fun sized,” she amended.

Rosalie glared at her.

Zoey laughed. She really wasn’t that short—only a bit shorter than the average girl. Zoey was just tall. Had been, even before Ephy’s transformation, which had added another few inches. At least, from what she could tell. She hadn’t exactly busted out the measuring tape.

“I’m the shortest in my family,” Rosalie muttered. “You’re not allowed to tease me over it. I get enough of it from my sisters.”

Zoey nodded solemnly. “Don’t worry. You’ll have me for the top shelf, now. You won’t need to ask them anymore.”

Another glare, which Zoey smirked back at—and which made Rosalie blush.

Reaching their destination—a large oak tree with a sprawling shadow—Zoey set out the checkered blanket and laid down the picnic basket.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Zoey said, sitting and stretching her arms wide, working out her muscles. They were aching from … well, all the chaos of the past few days. “But save space for dessert. You like ice cream?”

As it turned out, this world did have that, though it wasn’t as popular as back home. Still, Maddy helped her track down a tiny restaurant near the park, which they’d be heading to after the picnic and finger-painting debacle.

“I’ve had it,” Rosalie said. “Not often. I usually watch my diet, strictly. But it’s,” she paused. “Fine.” She shrugged.

Zoey nodded in passive realization. Obviously, as part of her training growing up, Rosalie had kept an intense regiment, including food. That lean, fighting figure of hers hadn’t come about by accident. Or through a magical transformation, like Zoey’s had.

“Well. Today’s for cutting loose. We’ll make up for it tomorrow.”

Which brought up something Zoey hadn’t considered. While Zoey hadn’t been in horrible shape back home, Ephy’s transformation had left her much better off. Did it need to be maintained? Or was it an ongoing blessing—could she pig out and keep her figure? That’d be pretty awesome, but it was hard to test in any reasonable time frame. Unless she really indulged.

Rosalie hummed at Zoey’s response, continuing to humor her. She wasn’t not having fun, Zoey thought, but dates in general weren’t really ‘Rosalie’, much less ‘day-at-the-park and cute picnic’ dates. Though, Rosalie had been the one to ask, so Zoey wasn’t discouraged.

Or, kind of, she’d been the one to ask. Technically, Zoey had … but Rosalie had bludgeoned her over the head to get her to do so. Her lips quirked at the memory—at Rosalie being upset Delta had ‘gotten the first date’.

“You ever been on a picnic?” Zoey asked. “Or is this your first?”

Rosalie paused as she considered the question. “Well,” she said. “Do outdoor banquets count? Of a political sort?”

“Did you sit on a blanket?”

“Certainly not.”

“In chairs?”

“That is the other option.”

“Well, I meant a picnic bench.”

Rosalie paused. “No. A regular table.”

“Then I’d say that doesn’t count.”

“Is that what makes a picnic? A bench or a blanket?”

“I mean, kind of?” Not really, since a picnic was really just an outdoor meal … so Rosalie was probably right. “Or, I guess not. But yeah, pretty much.”

“At least you’re consistent.”

Zoey laughed and finished unpacking the food she’d brought. It wasn’t much: a freshly baked loaf of bread with accompanying butter and jam, cheese, crackers, and fruit. Light foods, but plenty to snack on.

“And finally …” Zoey said, withdrawing the last item and presenting it. “Ta-da. I hope you’re not a wine snob, because one, I don’t know anything about wine, especially with amnesia, and two, I’m poor, so it’s cheap.” She grinned, waggling it. “But I thought it fit the intended ambiance.”

This world’s alcohol policies were looser than the ones back home, which was fortunate. She’d already guessed that from Delta’s casual invitation to go have drinks … and she could’ve guessed it even without that. Anyone down in the Fractures—a place swarming with monsters—ought to be able to buy alcohol, seeing how they were risking their lives on a daily basis. It’d have been ridiculous if not.

“Wine snob?” Rosalie echoed.

Zoey guessed Rosalie had probably never heard the phrase, common as it might be back home. Probably not a phrase thrown around by social aristocrats … or whatever stuffy circles Rosalie had grown up in.

“A sophisticated palate,” Zoey amended. “Or, that’s how the wine snobs put it.”

Amused, Rosalie took the bottle and inspected the label. “Well,” she said eventually. “I’ve never heard of the brand. That’s not necessarily a condemnation … I suppose you might have eclectic tastes. For my sensibility’s sake, I’ll pretend it’s that.”

“So you are a snob.”

“Mm. My family was—is—exempted from many frivolities of court, but not entirely. We do need to keep up appearances.”

Despite that Zoey had put two and two together, hearing Rosalie so casually mention things like ‘court’ and needing to ‘keep up an image’ had Zoey off foot … and honestly, had some insecurity creeping in. She was dating this girl? Her? Zoey? How in the world had that happened?

Rosalie offered the bottle back, and Zoey put it aside.

“What was that like, anyway? Growing up in … court?”

“A sidenote,” Rosalie answered, leaning back and looking away from Zoey, out into the park. “Irrelevant, compared to my training routine. Father had demanding expectations. We learned how to present ourselves in a befitting manner, but as I told you, we were exempt from much of their … games. Training took much greater focus. The court was more of an unfortunate chore.”

“We, being you and your sisters?”

Rosalie nodded.

She had adopted a contemplative look, which wasn’t Zoey’s goal for today. They’d strayed into territory that could have the mood … maybe not souring, but turning away from what she wanted. This was supposed to be a cute, easygoing date. The point was to have Rosalie relaxing. And Zoey wanted to learn more about Rosalie, but not at the expense of making things heavier than they needed to be.

“Who helped you plan this?” Rosalie asked suddenly.

“What, I couldn’t myself?”

Rosalie rolled her eyes. “No, you just seem the type to ask for help. To make it a social event. So, Delta?”

Rosalie had a good read on her. That probably shouldn’t make Zoey’s stomach gooey, but it did.

“Maddy, actually.”

“You two made quick friends.”

“Nah, that’s just who she is. She’d help a stranger plan a date. Happily, honestly. She’s a sucker for romance. Apparently she plans all her sisters’ dates, too.”

Rosalie thought about that for a second, then grimaced. “I couldn’t even imagine ‘talking romance’ with my sisters.”

“You three aren’t close?”

Rosalie chewed over her response. At least she didn’t seem put off by the heavier-than-intended question. “It’s complicated. But even when we’re on good footing, we don’t … talk about things like that.” She shrugged. “You’re a very open person, Zoey. My family isn’t. Even Elodie, who’s the most of all of us.”

“That’s fair.”

Zoey passed off the slice of bread she’d been preparing. Rosalie took it and bit in, savoring the butter and jam. Next, Zoey poured two glasses of wine, then handed one to Rosalie.

Hilariously, Rosalie took the glass and held it up to the light, tilting her head side to side as she inspected it. She held the glass by the stem with pointer finger and thumb, then, visual appraisal finished, swirled the liquid and closed her eyes, smelling it. Finally, she took a sip.

“I think it’s a hoax,” Zoey said. “I bet if I gave you a blind taste test, you couldn’t tell cheap wine from expensive.” She was pretty sure she’d seen a video proving that … but explaining the concept of ‘videos’ to Rosalie was obviously not on the table.

Rosalie blinked at Zoey’s words. She probably hadn’t even realized the ordeal she’d gone through before taking her first sip. She’d simply been going through the motions. Rosalie hummed. “Well, there is a difference. I suppose it’s possible I couldn’t, but some people I know could.”

Zoey wasn’t sold. Though, maybe the gap between ‘cheap’ and ‘expensive’ wine hadn’t been closed in this world. Maybe that had happened from modern production standards. Or … who knew.

Zoey took her own sip. She didn’t go about the whole process like Rosalie had, instead pointedly going straight for the drink, holding eye contact with Rosalie, which Rosalie rolled her eyes at—but her lips quirked, which meant Zoey had succeeded in amusing her.

She let the rich taste linger on her tongue for a moment, pretending to consider its complexity.

“Ah, yes,” Zoey said. “It tastes like wine.”

“I already believe that you’re unsophisticated. No need to play it up.”

A smile played on her lips, and Zoey grinned back. The two of them continued their meal.