Fear of Falling

me.
    “Why does this feel like prom?” Angel asked, breaking the ice.
    Blaine barked out a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Should I have brought you a corsage?”
    I looked up into his warm brown eyes, reflexively smiling at the sight. “I don’t know. Are you gonna try to spike my punch and feel me up in the back seat of your family’s station wagon?”
    “Maybe,” he winked.
    We escaped my roommates’ awkward questions and made our way down to Blaine’s truck. Turned out, truck was an understatement. He drove a beast.
    “Huh,” I nearly snorted as we approached. “I hate to say it, but you surely live up to the stereotype.”
    “What?” he asked sheepishly.
    I waved my hand in the direction of the gleaming black F-150 before me. “Southern guy with a big ass monster truck? If you have a camouflage cap in there, I’m going back upstairs.”
    Blaine laughed, shaking his head, as he opened the passenger side door. “No, sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t. Looks like you’re stuck with me for the evening.”
    Before I could respond, his hands had wrapped around my waist, and he was lifting me up into the truck effortlessly. I let out a little yip out of shock although I felt completely safe and secure with his hands on me. He even reached over and buckled me in, letting his incredible scent wash over me, as his mussed hair tickled my face. I should have known at that very moment that my fate was sealed.
    “So where to?” I asked after he had climbed into his own seat and revved the car to life.
    Blaine smiled that boyish grin that made even the most ornery woman forget her name. I imagined the countless pairs of panties that must have dropped instantaneously from that smile alone.
    “I have to feed you before I put you to work.”
    “Put me to work?” I asked with mock offense.
    Blaine winked a chocolate-brown eye, and I swear my heart stuttered. “You’ll see.”
    Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up to a small diner in a rundown neighborhood. The parking lot was packed with cars, and I could hear at least five different types of music blasting from various stereo systems. The restaurant was old, nondescript, and reminded me of a hole-in-the-wall place with a chef that everyone called Cookie. I looked to Blaine with a raised brow. If this was the famous Blaine Jacobs persuasion, then he was extremely misguided and overly confident.
    “Keep an open mind. I’ve got you; I promise,” he smiled, his brown eyes smoldering under the dimming sunlight.
    He jumped out of the truck and came over to open my door, nearly picking me up out of my seat. Then he laced his fingers through mine as he led me into the diner. It was packed, and I could feel the panic rising in my gut. There were so many people…so many eyes suddenly on us. The only thing that kept me from falling apart was the fact that every table was filled. I knew we wouldn’t get a table and would hopefully leave. Thank baby Jesus for small miracles.
    Heads turned instantly, and I heard quite a few people greet Blaine by name, including a tiny grey-haired lady behind the counter. She had a sweet face—one that reminded you of your grandma. Her eyes lit up when she saw Blaine and she flashed us a comforting smile.
    “Hey sugar, you all go ahead on to your table. Mavis will be by with some sweet tea shortly, ok?” Her southern accent was thicker than Blaine’s, as if she had lived in the area her entire life. For some reason, it warmed my soul.
    Blaine led me to a small table towards the back, greeting what I assumed were regulars the entire way. They all seemed to know him well, especially the female patrons.
    “I take it you come here often,” I remarked once we took our seats.
    “Yeah. I actually used to live a block away. My family and I came here all the time.”
    I nodded, picking up the plastic menu. “So what’s good here?” I peered over the menu, noticing that Blaine hadn’t even picked his up yet. He must have known it by heart.
    “Everything, really. But the waffles are the best you will ever taste in your life. And it just so happens that we’re here for breakfast.”
    “Breakfast?” I asked, giving him a confused glare. “Um, you do realize that it’s nighttime, right?”
    “True. But nobody does waffles like Ms. Patty. And you told me the first time I asked you out for breakfast that we’d have to do it some other time. And then I couldn’t stay for it this morning. So yes,