It had been a good week for him, overall. Headlines were good enough that he hadn't even had to lie very often, and he'd gotten easily by, saving a bit here and there. What it meant, of course, was that he had enough saved at the end of the week for dinner and a show at Irving Hall for two.
He had the whole thing planned before he even asked her. They'd start at Tibby's, the table in the corner. Just the two of them, with a menu between them. She'd order something smallish, and simple, thinking he couldn't afford more, so he'd order extra, knowing she'd eventually cave in and ask for a bit of his. He'd give her that knowing sort of grin, and slide his plate over to her, laughing at the scowl she'd inevitably give him.
After the cafe, they'd take the long way around to Irving Hall, swinging by the park to watch the sun set over the treetops, sitting on that bench by the pond. He'd save a roll from Tibby's in his pocket, to tear it apart and toss to the ducks, luring the mama ducks with duckling over just to hear her giggle at them, wondering at their cuteness. She was so pretty when she smiled like that, about things like ducklings and kittens.
Once the sun had set completely, it was off to Irving Hall, and he already had the tickets, for once going in the main door like everyone else, sitting in a table near the front. They had lots of time to get settled and get drinks, because the beginning acts weren't so important, but by the time Medda got onstage herself, she'd be entranced by the stage, the way she always was. She loved the theatre, so unlike the rest of the things in her life, flashy and showy and bright. All singing, all dancing, all fantasy and show. A place to forget, for awhile, real life.
They'd stay until the last act, all the way until the end, and he'd slowly have moved his chair over a bit at a time, until he was close enough to her chair to sling his arm around her shoulder, pulling her a bit closer, letting her snuggle against his side. The house was dark, compared to the stage, and she wouldn't have to care who saw them snuggling. If he was feeling really bold, he might try to kiss her, before they left the theatre.
But he would absolutely kiss her, once they were outside, and walking back to her home. Not quite waiting until they got there, but not outside the theatre, just in a dark doorway along the way. And he wouldn't just grab her and kiss her like he wanted to, not right away. He'd start soft, his hands chastely at her waist, pulling her a little bit closer, lips just barely touching hers. He'd let her melt a little, slide her arms up over his shoulders, pull a little closer before his lips would get more firm against hers.
He'd keep his hands still, although by that point it would be an internal struggle. He didn't want to push her, or make her think all he wanted was to grope her. Because that wasn't it. He was just so amazed by her, by everything about her, that a girl like her could want a guy like him. And more than that, she was beautiful. A goddess, gorgeous, brilliant to boot, almost too much for him to believe she was real. And the idea that she wanted him, that actually made him panic.
Yes, he wanted her, he wanted to feel every curve, wanted to kiss every inch of her skin, wanted to hear the sound of her voice, gasping because of something he was doing. But he could wait for that. He would wait forever for that. Until she wanted it, too. Until they were married, if that was how she wanted it to be. They hadn't discussed it, and maybe they'd discuss some day soon.
But this night would be about just kissing her. Memorizing her lips, her little whimperings. Lost in that moment, in the softness of her against him, the feel of her in his arms. And it would be impossible to let her go, finish walking home, but he'd manage. They'd manage. He'd drop her off on her doorstep, flushed, and grinning, and head home himself to the lodging house, humming, and grinning wildly himself.
He'd dream of her, that night. A perfect end to a perfect night.
And all he had to do was invite her out.