Prompts: 12. perfect, 29. more than a memory
She hadn't told him anything about the date. Just to look nice. But look nice could mean anything. He was starting to think that they'd end up at the opera or the ballet or something like that, but the ended up on the roof of her apartment building, which she had made to look like an Italian restaurant. She had strung white lights around the small table, and there was soft music playing on the CD player.
He was speechless, completely blown away by all the effort she had put into their date. He must've been quiet for too long, because her face fell.
"I did it wrong, didn't I?" she asked, fumbling with her fingers.
He pulled her to him and placed a kiss at the juncture where her shoulder met her neck. She gave a soft moan, and he smiled. "It's perfect," he said. "Absolutely perfect."
"Good," she said, grinning. "Because you are one picky son of a bitch."