by Emily Lowry
“Knock knock.” My dad stood at my bedroom door.
“Instead of saying knock knock, you could always, you know, knock.” I paced and tried to push every thought from my mind. What if I said something stupid to Chase? What if I embarrassed myself? Like if I laughed and food came out of my nose? Or even worse… What if I embarrassed HIM? What if, what if, what if?
“You look wonderful. What’s the boy’s name again?”
“Chase,” I mumbled.
“What happened to Chase being just a friend?”
“He is just a friend.” I insisted.
Well, fake boyfriend to be exact, but I would hardly explain that one to my father.
Tonight was just practice for the real thing; a lesson in clichés. So why was I so nervous?
“How do you feel?” Dad asked.
“Nervous.”
“Good. You’re supposed to be nervous.”
“Really? Because when I picture the perfect high school date in my head, I’m effortlessly cool.”
Dad laughed. “You’re my daughter, and I love you more than anything, but not once in your life have you been effortlessly cool.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Dad.”
“Come here.” Dad gave me a reassuring hug. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be yourself.”
“Such a cliché.”
“Clichés are popular for a reason,” Dad said. “Just have fun. Don’t take everything so seriously. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Public humiliation.”
Dad sat on the end of my bed while I paced. “You can get through public humiliation. Want to know how I know?”
Yes.
“I was seven,” Dad said. “I was at summer camp. My eighth birthday was at the end of the week. There was a girl — Heather — and I had a crush on her. She was eight. And somehow, I knew — I KNEW — that for a girl to like a boy, the boy had to be older than her.”
I stopped pacing. “That is a statistical fact. You were a wise seven-year-old.”
“Not that wise,” Dad said. “When Heather asked how old I was, I said I was nine. One year older than her.”
I stifled a laugh. “You lied about your age when you were seven?”
“I liked her,” Dad said, shrugging. “So, it’s the end of the week. Heather is sitting at my table with her parents. To my surprise, they bring out a birthday cake. And they make me stand on a chair while they sing to me. But there’s a problem — the birthday cake only has eight candles.”
“Oh no…”
“And Heather — sharp as she was — points this out. She interrupts my happy birthday song. ‘The cake is wrong; it only has eight candles. It should have ten. Why doesn’t have ten?’ My parents burst out laughing. And I have to sit there while they explain to Heather that I’m actually seven turning eight, not nine turning ten, like I said.”
I couldn’t help it — I laughed. I pictured my dad, cheeks rosy, lips pressed together furiously. An angry actually-eight-year-old with his plan foiled by well-meaning adults. “What did you do?” I asked between fits of laughter. “How did you explain it?”
“I didn’t. I crawled under the table and stayed there until dinner was over.”
“Oh, Dad.”
“I know.” He smiled, chuckling at himself. “The point is, we’re tough, us Murrows. We can survive anything.”
Somehow, my nerves had disappeared. “Thanks, Dad. For everything.”
Then the doorbell rang.
My nerves crashed down on me.
Dad stood and cleared his throat. He shot me a devilish smile. “Time to be Mr. Overprotective.”
19
Chase
I stood a respectful distance from the front step. Prior to the date, an argument raged in my head: is it more cliché to bring flowers or chocolates to a first date? I knew Abby wanted the perfect cliché first date. I eventually settled on a dozen chocolate flowers… though I’d eaten half of them during the planning phase.
Abby’s father opened the door, I could tell who he was immediately. He had the same green eyes as Abby, the same stoic expression.
“I’m Mr. Murrow,” he said seriously.
We shook hands. “Chase Jones. I’m here for—”
“I know why you’re here,” he said, still gripping my hand, hard. “You’re trying to get my daughter pregnant.”
I stared at the man in complete disbelief for a second, openmouthed. Did I hear him wrong? Before I could respond — not that I could think of anything to say — he burst out laughing.
“I’ve always wanted to do that. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself!” His serious demeanor disappeared, the stoic look replaced with a smile you’d imagine on a young Santa Claus. He was still chuckling to himself when he opened the door wider.
“Don’t mind my lunatic father.” Abby was standing behind the door, glowering at her dad. She whirled to face me, her gaze moving from her still-laughing father.
We stared at each other and my mind went totally blank. Abby. Looked. Hot.
She must have taken my surprise for something else. She smoothed her dress. “Is it okay?”
“It’s great!” I reassured quickly, glad to finally have two coherent words to say. I gave her the half-dozen chocolate roses.
She pretended to smell them. “Beautiful, two clichés in one. Dad, can you find a vase for these?”
He took the roses from her. “I’ll cut the stems, but I can’t promise Katie won’t eat them. You two kids have fun. And remember — teen pregnancy is a veritable epidemic.”
“Thanks again, Dad,” Abby said sarcastically. She closed the door. “So sorry you had to meet him.”
“Weirdness runs in the family, huh?”
She shoved me playfully.
I extended my arm and winked. “It’s all part of the first date experience.”
“I’ll mark it off on my checklist — have your dad embarrass you.”
“And threaten your date.” I raised my eyebrows. Now I knew exactly where Abby got her sarcastic wit from. Meeting her father — even briefly — gave me a glimpse into a whole new side of Abby’s life. One that I longed to see more of.
“He’s a teddy bear,” she said.
I opened the passenger door. “And so begins your perfect cliché date.”
20
Abby
Chase had outdone himself. He had turned up with the perfect combination of chocolates and flowers. He wore a navy-blue shirt, dark pants, and an expensive-looking jacket. I’d never seen him dressed up before, and somehow, I was acutely aware that he looked even more handsome than usual. I felt my heartbeat in my throat.
On the drive, he put on a Spotify playlist of the cheesiest love songs he could find.
“The best musical clichés you can imagine, all the sappiest love songs, especially for you.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and sung a quick lyric off-key. At least there was one thing Chase wasn’t good at. “Jordyn helped me make it. I told her you were a sucker for terrible cheesy music.”
I half-laughed, half-groaned, “Oh great, now your sister will think I have the worst taste!”
Chase laughed. “Whatever. She likes you.”
“Who, Jordyn?” A pleasant glow settled over me at the thought. Chase’s sister was popular and universally well-liked at Evermore.
“I believe her exact words were: it’s about time you dated someone smarter than a lamppost. You have a sister too, right?”
“Katie. She would be the gremlin responsible for my lovely hair tonight.”
“My compliments to the stylist.” We pulled up to a stoplight. “Your mom must love having girls. Mine always says that having me and Jordyn was like having two boys. Jordie was obsessed with playing soccer and trading Pokémon with Dylan and I. She still is deep into all of that geek stuff; she’s just gotten better at hiding it.”
Ah, family drama. I always knew it would come back to bite me. “Mom’s… she’s not really aro
und right now. Like we have our phone calls, but I haven’t seen her since summer. It’s basically me, Katie, and Dad.” I hoped I didn’t sound as awkward as I felt.
“Sorry, didn’t know.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Honestly, they’re both better off this way.”
We drove in silence while the theme from Titanic finished. I decided to change the conversation. “Any more thoughts about Madison sabotaging you?”
“Nope,” Chase said quickly. “You’re not allowed.”
“Allowed what?”
“To talk business on a fake date. Rule number one for dating: never talk about your exes. Even on a fake date.”
“Right.” That’s what this was, wasn’t it? Fake? I needed to keep that in mind. Sometimes I worried I was losing track of what was real and what wasn’t with Chase and I. Were we friends now, underneath this facade? Or was even that part fake? The thought hurt to think about.
We parked near the river that cut through the center of town. He offered me his jacket, which I took — because it was part of the cliché first date. I pulled it tight around my shoulders, enjoying the faint scent of Chase’s cologne. He took my hand and guided me down a set of steep stairs to a wooden pathway that hugged the bank of the river.
Chase cleared his throat. “May I present you with: the Riverwalk. The ideal cliché first date location.”
The Riverwalk was an arching wooden pathway that ran alongside the river for about three miles. It was lit with string lights, and restaurants and cafes lined both sides of the pedestrian walk. Some eateries had patios that extended out into the river, glowing with heat lamps. The whole place was always crowded with pedestrians, and at the fancier restaurants, it was nearly impossible to get a table unless you booked decades in advance.
Or you knew the right people.
Had Chase got a table at a fancy restaurant? Like one where you were supposed to know which fork to use with which course? I had a moment of panic. “Where are you taking me?”
“For dinner.”
“Where?”
He winked. “You’ll see.”
We walked along the path and made idle conversation. Everything was perfect. Part of me bathed in the magic that was my first date. But the other part of me? It was weighed down by the reality that all of these firsts didn’t count. This date was not real.
The river lapped against the wooden platforms as we walked and walked. We passed restaurants with food I didn’t even know how to eat, never mind pronounce. A waiter cut in front of us. He was holding a plate with snails fried in garlic butter.
“Please tell me we’re not eating here,” I said, just loud enough for the waiter to shoot me a dirty look.
Chase snickered. “Don’t worry. I’ve found us a much better place. They only serve free-range organic snails.”
My entire body relaxed at his joke.
“Suddenly I’m no longer hungry.” I retorted with a grin.
“That’s too bad, because I think you will love the place I’m taking you.”
It dawned on me that I would miss Chase when this was over.
We reached the end of the Riverwalk, but we hadn’t stopped at a restaurant.
Had we missed it?
Chase checked to make sure no one was looking, then climbed over the wooden fence and onto the sandy river embankment. “Come on, just a bit further.”
Where exactly were we going? “What happened to the clichés, Jones? There is nothing cliché about climbing over a fence while I’m all dressed up.”
Chase laughed and held out his hand to help me as I clambered over the fence — which was surprisingly difficult to do in a dress.
I fixed him with a mock-glare. “You better not push me in the river.”
“I promise,” he said. “And that goes for you, too.”
I looked at him seriously. “I can’t make that promise.”
“I guess I’ll watch my back.”
“You should.”
My shoes sunk into the sand, and the Riverwalk faded behind us. It was getting darker now, the first stars appearing in the night sky. Just when I was sure Chase was playing an elaborate practical joke and was leading me nowhere, we rounded a bend and found a handful of square tables set out on a flat beach area by the river. Each table had a checkered red and white tablecloth draped over top. Three were occupied — other couples on dates, it looked like — and one was empty.
Chase took me to the empty table and pulled out my chair.
“What is this?” I asked, taken aback.
As he sat, a waiter arrived to provide an answer.
It was Dylan Ramirez, Chase’s best friend. He wore an apron that had ‘Beachbreak Burgers’ splashed across the front in a loud blue font.
“Welcome to Beachbreak.” Dylan grinned.
Beachbreak Burgers was a small, family-run burger joint famous for their amazing burgers and shakes. I went there plenty, but this was all new to me.
The main restaurant — where 99% of people ate — was located at the top of the river. Dylan explained that at the back there was a hidden staircase that led to the beach area, and that they kept it top secret. It was by reservation only. They kept it as secret as possible — if you wanted the beach experience, you had to know someone.
I couldn’t believe it. Yet another taste of a life I had never been part of. I imagined Chase, Dylan and their friends bringing girls from the cheerleading team here.
Dylan took our order and gave me a grin. “This had better not end up in the Pinnacle!”
“Please, I would never want something like this to leak. You’ll never let me come back then.”
Dylan walked away laughing.
I couldn’t contain my smile. “This is not at all the cliché first date.”
Chase grinned. “Technically — burgers and fries on the Riverwalk? That is totally the cliché first date. I just added a little twist.”
Little twist? This was hardly a little twist. This was like walking from real life into a Hallmark movie. An extra cheesy one.
He gave me a strange look. “Is it ok? Would you have preferred something more straightforward, an average cliché? Like Romano’s or something?” He named the romantic Italian restaurant on Main Street that was always full of couples glowing at each other over the candlelight.
“Well you have created a problem.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“How are any actual boyfriends going to measure up to my fake boyfriend?”
“They’re not. It’s a common problem after you date me.”
I playfully swatted him, then smiled. “It’s perfect. But I have to know. Do you take all the girls here?”
There was no way — NO WAY — he conjured this miracle just for me.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“I think we’re past you needing to ask that question.” I laughed nonchalantly, but I felt my heart beating faster.
“Well, to break my own rule about talking about exes, I took Madison here, once. It was the only time I took anyone here. She hated it. Wouldn’t even sit at the table. Said there wasn’t enough light for her to get a good picture for Click. We left and went to Romano’s.” Chase smiled wryly at the memory.
Madison, I decided, was an idiot.
“You and Madison… I don’t know her well or anything… but you guys don’t seem…”
“You mean you can’t work out how we dated for almost a year?” Chase laughed, cutting me off.
“Yeah.” I said. “You’re nice. She has the personality of sour milk.”
Chase sighed. “She’s complicated. Loves her social media, but only because she’s insecure. At first, when we were alone, she was nice. Really nice. But, ultimately, she liked the idea of me more than she liked actual me. Would she have gone out with me if I wasn’t the starting quarterback? The question got louder and louder the longer we dated. And at one point, I realized the answer was no. So, I asked her. She deflected and told me to not quit the football
team. Made it pretty obvious, so I ended it. Still hurt, though. She was my only serious relationship.”
I sat quietly as Chase talked. I always thought everything was so perfect for him, so easy. I never considered that he would struggle with insecurities like any other teenager, but just differently. People used him for his status.
I suddenly felt grateful for my relative invisibility. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s cool. I’m over it. She’s a nice girl, deep down. Like really deep.”
“So how do you do it?” I asked. “How do you trust anyone when everyone could be using you?”
“I don’t,” he said with a casual shrug. “Not really. Dylan, Jordyn. Trust them both with my life. They’re always honest — sometimes painfully honest — but they’ve always got my back.”
Chase paused and locked his eyes on mine.
A shiver flew down my spine.
“And you, Abby,” he said. “You’ve got the same painful honesty.”
My heart lurched and guilt surged through me. He trusted me, but I hadn’t told him the whole truth.
Dylan returned with our food and I pushed the thought aside, concentrating on my fries.
“Ready for cliché date, part two?” Chase asked after we finished. “It’s even better than part one.”
That was impossible. But as I was quickly finding out, the impossible became very possible when you spent time with Chase Jones.
21
Abby
“I thought we agreed on dinner and a movie?” I said.
“We did.” Chase smiled.
“Then why are we in the middle of nowhere?”
“For the movie.”
I was confused. After leaving Beachbreak Burgers, we hopped in Chase’s Jeep. I assumed he would drive us to the movie theater. Instead, he pulled onto the freeway and drove until the city lights faded. Every time I asked where we were going, he gave the same answer. To the movie.