‘This is so NOT a first date’, Grace tells herself as she’s strolling up the jetway, looking out at the white peaks of the terminal, a mimic of the steeper peaks in the distance. ‘One of your very best friends is coming to pick you up from the airport. Because he’s a nice guy. Because this is his city.’ With this she takes a deep, steading breath as she comes to the sliding doors leading outside to lines of cars and other anxious travelers.

‘This is SO not a first date’, Gibby is reminding himself for what may actually be the millionth time on his way to the airport. ‘You’re going to pick up Grace. She’s one of your oldest and dearest friends. She’s in your town so of course you’ll pick her up.’ he thinks as he swings his truck into the line of cars. Just then he sees her. She’s exhaling what looks like a deep breath as she passes through the sliding doors. She hasn’t seen him yet and he takes that beat to take her in. The hell it’s not a first date, says every cell in his body and soul.

“Hey! Are you my Uber?” Grace says with the biggest smile, hoping the lame, yet light-hearted joke can mask the nerves that have sprung to life since setting eyes on him in so many years. He’s a man now, with a man’s build instead of the coltish physique she’d once known so well. To say it looked good on him would be the understatement of the year.

“Hey! Yeah, it appears so!” is Gibby’s reply as he throws the truck in park, circles the front and comes around to help her in. Just feet from her, he can see the girl he fell in love with all those years ago. In his eyes, she hasn’t changed a bit.

As if drawn by magnets, they come together in a hug. Their bodies seem to know exactly what to do and how to fit even if their heads and hearts are still playing catch-up. It could have lasted a minute, five, ten, who knows? But it was long enough for the next car in line to honk at them in frustration and break their embrace with a laugh.

“Let me get that”, Gibson says as he opens the rear door and lifts her suitcase in. Ever the gentleman, he then opens the passenger door for Grace and simply says, “My dear”.

Though her heart is melting, Grace manages a “Why, thank you.” as she climbs in. She’s wearing one of her twirly dresses and has to gather up the hem as she lifts one booted foot and then the other to slide in.

Gibson closes the door and though it’s only a few paces, his mind is reeling with, ‘She wore a dress and those leather boots and knee-high socks? Of fucking course she did. Did you see her legs as she gathered her dress? Hell yes, I saw those legs. And she smelled good too, didn’t she? She smelled incredible.’

“Well, where to? Do you want me to put your Air B&B address into the nav?” Gibby asks.

“Actually, I’m kinda hungry. I’m still a bit of a nervous flyer, even with all of the traveling I do, so I try not to eat before I get on the plane. Do you know any good places we could go for dinner?”

She’s asked him a great question, because this is one of the things he likes best: showing off his city through its food scene. He also can’t wait to sit across from this woman at a table again, letting the food and conversation nourish them both. “Hmm.. yes, I think I know just the spot. It’s going to take a bit to get there, is that okay with you?”

“Of course, I trust you. Besides, we can use the drive to catch up a bit.” Grace replies. And just as they begin their journey she exclaims as if she’s just remembered, “Oh! The passenger runs the tunes!”

“Go for it!” is Gibbys bemused reply. Grace doesn’t know the stations here, but he’d play along with any rule she was making.

With that, she plugs in her phone and pulls up her Spotify G&G playlist. Each song on the list held meaning. Whether it was something said through lyrics she wasn’t brave enough to say in her own words yet, or a song from their shared past that would forever hold meaning, or simply something that made her think of him and smile. Every tune a hit, she’d heard once on the radio. It wasn’t true then, but boy is it now.

“Into the Mystic” by Van Morrison is first up in the random queue and they both smile. There’s no polite conversation or catching up; just Van and Grace and Gibby all singing, “And I wanna rock your gypsy soul, just like way back in the days of old…” and that magic is back, like it never left. The magic of sitting side by side, letting the music provide the soundtrack to their shared story.

Time flies on the drive, as they sit and sing with Van and Clapton and Rod and the Allman Brothers and the next thing they know they’re pulling into the lot at the brewhouse/restaurant. “I hope this is okay. I’m not sure what you’re in the mood for, but they have a little bit of everything. And don’t even think about touching that handle.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. I’m going to let us both off the hook for now as to what I’m in the mood for. I can barely think straight on an empty stomach, let alone next to you. And I wasn’t going for the handle, I’ll let you get the door sir, thank you.” All said with that smile that’s just for him.

Seated with appetisers ordered and drinks delivered, Grace hears the opening piano strokes of “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” play and she gasps. She still does that, apparently, the sharp intake of breath, her eyes lighting up. It holds a magic all its own.

“Best Billy Joel song. Hands down.” she says. And her fingers dance along of their own accord, not really playing the tune, as she’s not the musician of the pair. It’s then that her enthusiasm threatens to topple her cider right into Gibby’s pale blue button down. “Nice catch! My daddy did name me Grace.”, she jokes to try to save what was left of the blush that’s creeping up her neck.

“Thanks. But this is not the best Billy Joel song.” Gibby smiles back at her. She gives him a blank look as though she can think of no other song except the one playing. “She’s Got a Way”, Gibby says straight into those eyes and gives a half shrug as if this were a statement that would end the discussion.

It did anything but.

As if time could stand still, they talked and laughed and flirted their way right through their meal and beyond. The wait staff politely starts closing down the place right around them before either notices. Gibson has to physically pull himself back from the table to break the spell and check the time.

“It’s getting late, huh”, Grace’s reply to his expression as he looks at his phone for the first time in what’s now been hours.

“That just happens with us I guess. Are you tired? Should I take you to your Air B&B now?” he asks as they’re walking back to his truck.

She knows he’s going to get the door for her again so she moves herself to the left and turns to face him. “No. I mean, I’m a little tired. Travel and a full belly will do that to a girl. But I don’t want you to take me to my Air B&B. Is there somewhere we can go with no wait staff?” Grace asks half smiling that mischievous smile. “I mean, it’s not like this is a date or anything.”

It only took as long as walking around to let himself back in to make up his mind. “Let’s go back to my place. It’s not far from here and I’d love to show it to you. And the only staff there is Mags the wonder rescue. Besides, this isn’t a date or anything.”

Neither could have been more wrong, nor more right. And off they went, into the night….