Wrong Place, Right Time

by Mallory Lopez

  "Aren't you going to want to..." He pauses and looks at me from my head down to my waist.

  "Want to what?" I look down to see what he's looking at.

  "Change your clothes? Shower? Isn’t that what girls normally do? Spend hours getting ready?" He whispers loudly, trying unsuccessfully to be tactful about my outfit. It's too late though. I'm irritated.

  "Nope," I reply boldly. "I like my outfit, and it’s not really any of your business what I wear. Plus, we can just go to The Diner for dinner and pie. No biggie. Why? Are you embarrassed to be seen with a girl in leggings and a baggy shirt? At least I have a lace scarf. They're just clothes, Todd."

  "That's not what I meant," he starts to explain even though we both know it's exactly what he meant. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. It's whatever you want."

  I smile brightly. "It's whatever I want...I like that. You're already getting a hang of this fake boyfriend thing. I forgive your past transgression." I hand him my car keys.

  "I never apologized, but thank you." He heads for the door. Before the bells jingle he turns around and says, "I'll pick you up here at seven."

  "I get off at six."

  "Fine, I'll pick you up here at six."

  "Todd, seriously, don't forget to pick me up," I remind him firmly.

  "Amelia, seriously, I won't forget to pick you up," he replies with attitude.

  “It’s the black Honda CRV right in front of the store.” He turns his head to me in disbelief.

  “Where the fuck is your car? You know, the one I slaved over for a week,” he belts out with steam nearly coming out his nose like a cartoon.

  “I got a new one. My car is now Josh’s car.” He shakes his head, clearly pissed off. I couldn’t care less if he is mad. He's part way out the door when I yell after him. "Be careful!

  He shouts his reply right back at me so loud the whole street can hear. "I got it, Amelia!"

  The bells jingle ferociously when the door slams hard. I sigh wondering about the situation I just got myself into.

  He smells of sweat and oil. He is covered in grease stains all the way down to his hands, even though he washed them five minutes ago. His black shirt has a few tiny tears in it that I swear weren't there this morning. His flannel looks more grunge than if we were living in 1993. He hasn't shaved in a couple of days, but the layer of dirt that’s now on his face turned this morning’s "sexy stubble" into more of a "lack of hygiene" look. I stare at him and try not to leave my mouth hanging open. It looks like I'm having dinner with a homeless person. Okay, not quite, but he still looks dirty and raggedy.

  "I asked if you wanted to change and shower before, Amelia. Stop looking at me like I'm the most disgusting thing you've ever seen," he tells me without taking his eyes off his menu.

  "You asked if I wanted to go change and shower. You never said anything about you. I work at a photography studio. I don't need to change and shower before going to a dive diner," I defend myself while he continues to study the menu.

  "And you know I work at a body shop, and get hot, sweaty, dirty, and greasy. You said you didn't want to. You said I had to pick you up at six." He puts his menu down, and finally looks at me. "You said not to forget, so I did what you told me to do. You can't be mad at me for doing what you told me to do."

  I narrow my eyes at him. "I didn't know that's what you meant by changing and showering! I thought you were insulting me. And I'm not mad!" I snap at him.

  "You are completely mad. You're practically yelling at me right now. Besides, what's the problem, Sweet Cheeks? You said it yourself: they're just clothes." Great, he’s using my own words to justify his filthy flannel.

  I nearly growl in frustration. "Fine!" I hiss. "I don't care. Let's just eat and be seen together. Be seen not arguing together but being...complacent," I smooth out the wrinkles in my shirt in an attempt to regain some control of myself.

  "Complacent?" He dumbly asks.

  "Yes, complacent. You know, getting along? Not wanting to kill each other," I respond, rolling my eyes.

  "I know what complacent means. Just because I didn't go to some fancy university doesn't mean I don't know anything," he says defensively. "I meant don't you want us to be seen being more than complacent?"

  I furrow my eyebrows, not understanding what he means. "What do you mean more than–"

  "Here are some waters," the waitress cuts me off, placing two glasses on the table.

  Todd reaches across the table, and roughly grabs my hand which is in a fist from being so wound up. He tries to open my hand up, but I'm so confused as to why he's grabbing my hand. I start to fight him, and it looks like we're doing some kind of ridiculous hand shake in front of our waitress. Finally our hands make a loud smack on the table, and we both resolve to holding hands. Extremely awkwardly with fingers interlacing at weird angles.

  "Oh, Todd Bartlett. I thought that was you!" Our waitress couldn't possibly have her size DD breasts more in my fake boyfriend's face than they are right now. He looks at her, surprised that she knew his name, but he quickly recovers and offers her a friendly grin.

  "Hey! Yeah, it is me. Uh, how have you been?" He asks not-so-subtly glancing down at her sizable breasts.

  She giggles and answers, "Well, you know I'd be doing better if I saw more of you." She winks at him. Todd's grin grows wider to my dismay and as uncomfortable and awkward as our fingers may be, I squeeze his hand as hard as possible. I cannot believe he's flirting with our waitress on our first freaking date.

  "Argh," he groans in pain but gets the hint. "This is my, um, my..." he swallows and clears his throat. "Girlfriend. Um, Amelia."

  I give my best fake smile. "Hi, I'm Amelia. Todd's fak–um, girlfriend. Todd's girlfriend. Um, sorry, it's just really new for us." I can't believe I almost just said fake girlfriend. I'm a terrible liar. The waitress frowns, and puts her hand on her hip.

  "Oh, okay. Well, I guess...do you guys know what you want or whatever?" She looks around like she's suddenly bored. Serves her right. She can clearly see that Todd and I are awkwardly holding hands. It takes everything in me not to smile and act smug. Todd orders for both of us before I can stop him. The waitress walks off, making an obvious show by swaying her ass as she does. Ugh. I glance at Todd whose eyes are practically glued to her.

  "Todd! Stop staring!" I whisper-yell at him. We mutually unravel our fingers so we're not holding hands anymore.

  "Okay, okay, relax. I didn't know fake girlfriends got jealous," he teases.

  I roll my eyes. "I'm not jealous! Us dating isn't very convincing if you flirt and get phone numbers of every woman we encounter."

  "I never asked her for her phone number! Besides, I probably already have it," he pauses. "I just don't remember her name." He chuckles at his own pigheadedness.

  "You're a jerk. Oh! And what's with the ordering for me thing? I wanted the club sandwich not a burger with fries," I complain like the annoying girlfriend I never knew I could be. Maybe I should tone it down a notch.

  "Isn't that what boyfriends do? They order for their girlfriends. It's in all those stupid movies," he reasons, casually throwing his arm up on the back of the booth showcasing his impressive muscles.

  "What stupid movies?" I ask honestly.

  "You know, the ones with the dates and love." He takes a drink of water, and I become mesmerized at how his hand gets wet but none of black marks on his hands disappear.

  "You mean Rom-Coms? Romantic Comedies?"

  "Yeah, those."

  I tear my eyes away from his dirty-but-not-dirty hand to look at him with amusement dancing in my eyes. "You watch Rom-Coms?" A grin spreads across my face.

  He leans forward and starts shaking his hands. "No, no, no, I just mean that I thought that's what boyfriends do. That's all. Next time I'll let you order for yourself. Much less stress for me trying to figure out what you want to eat. And last time I checked, you know as much as I do about dating––nil, so stop being all judgy over there."

  My grin fades,
and I really take in what he's saying. I don't know about dating or boyfriends. At all. I don't know how boyfriends are supposed to be. I don't know how a date is really supposed to be like or the things you're supposed to feel. I've never done this before. Who am I to sit here and tell him––or anyone––how to be a good boyfriend or girlfriend. I've never had one.

  "Hey," he reaches out and shakes my hand. "What's wrong? You went from sassy to Sad Sally in less than a second. Look, I told you I'm not good at this. I've never done it before. I'm sorry I stared at...the waitress."

  I huff a laugh at the fact that he still can't remember her name.

  "I'm sorry I ordered for you. I genuinely thought that's what I was supposed to do. And obviously I suck at holding hands." I crack a smile, and we both laugh. "Just don't be sad and go easy on me, okay?"

  I nod. "Yeah, I'll go easy. It's hard for me too." I glance down at his hand that's still on top of mine. Suddenly I get a fluttering in my stomach, and my cheeks turn pink. "I know I don't, you know, look like her, the waitress, but maybe just don't––I mean, I get that I'm not like hot or whatever and I'll never look like that but–"

  "Woah, Amelia, you're–"

  15

  –– Todd ––

  "Here are your burgers," a guy with dark messy hair with a white apron on interrupts me as he plops our plates down on the table.

  "Thanks. Amelia–" I start to say but the guy cuts me off again.

  "Hey, Amelia. Long time, no see. How's it going?" He smiles down at her, and she smiles back at him. Her eyes sparkle along with her smile. Her with her fucking big shining brown eyes.

  "Hey, Justin! It's going well! I'm just down here for the summer until I go back up to UP. How about you?"

  I roll my eyes. At least I wasn't trying to have a freaking conversation with...the waitress whose name I still can't remember for the life of me. Justin hooks his hands in his apron pockets, and sways back on his feet. He grins when she asks him about himself.

  "I'm doing okay. I'm actually–"

  I let out an obnoxiously loud cough. "Excuse me," I say, taking a sip of water. "Hey, I'm Todd, Amelia's boyfriend. Our food looks great, thanks."

  "Oh, uh, okay, yeah, cool. I'll, um, see you around, Amelia. It was good to see you. Later, Todd." He turns and walks off to the kitchen. My eyes follow him until he goes through the swinging door.

  "Do I know him?" I look back at Amelia who is taking a monster bite out of her burger. Yeah, wanted the club sandwich, my ass. "Who is he?"

  She wipes her mouth but misses a dab of ketchup on the side of her lips. I don't know if it's adorable or ridiculous. "He went to high school with us. We were sophomores when you were a senior. So, we remember you but you don't remember us."

  "Oh." I shrug my shoulders and take a bite out of my burger. After a few minutes of silently eating, and stewing over what she remembers about me, I finally grow a pair and just ask. "What do you remember about me?"

  She raises her eyebrows, and chuckles nervously. "Well...not much, to be honest. Just what everyone knew––that you were a partier and got around. And all the girls wanted you even though you had hooked up with half the female population."

  "Is that so?" I grin. "What about you? Did you want me too?" I nudge her foot under the table. "You wanted me. Come on, admit it." She blushes, and looks down at her plate. I know I'm right. I can't help but smile at her.

  "No. Actually, I was into someone else all throughout high school." She blushes even deeper. My smile flat lines.

  "Who? Don't tell me it was my stupid best friend, Brett."

  "Brett Dixon? He seemed like a pretty good guy. Is he seeing that cute girl still?"

  "Yeah, he’s the best guy. And Ramona, yeah they're still together. So, if not me or Brett, then who?"

  "Ha. You act like you were the only guy in school. It was..." she tilts her head awkwardly to the side.

  "It was who?" I ask leaning in.

  "It was..." she nods her head again like she's trying to get water out of her ear.

  "What are you doing? Just tell me who it was. Why are you doing that weird head nod thing? Is there something in your ear?"

  "No! Ugh!" She tilts her head back groans. For a split second I wonder if her head tilts back like that when she has an orgasm. I wonder if she's ever had an orgasm. She's never had sex but surely she touches herself. No, no, no, I tell my other brain to stop picturing Amelia naked, but it doesn’t listen. I feel the movement in my pants, and I have to reach under the table to adjust myself. "It was him." She nods her head one last time toward Justin. You have to be kidding me. She was hot for that guy but not me. Talk about a major boner killer.

  "That guy? You're kidding me," I comment in utter disbelief.

  "Justin," she whispers. "Yes."

  "But he's such a dork!" I try to reason with her. She sighs.

  "No, he's not, but even if he was, so what? I'm a dork, Todd."

  "Wait, do you like that guy because you like him or because you think you can't do any better?" I ask her seriously.

  "No, it's not like that. I actually really liked him. He had a girlfriend. Maybe they're still together, I don't know. Let's not talk about it anymore." Her shoulders cave in and her entire demeanor changes. I spot Justin walking to the table with our bill. Without thinking I quickly grab her hand across the table and intertwine our fingers. Normally this time though not like an awkward uncomfortable mess like before. I'm already getting better at this boyfriend thing. I smile to myself.

  "Here's your check. You can pay here or up front. Have nice night, and it was really good to see you again," he says before stalking off.

  We stand up, and walk to the front register. I pull out my wallet just as Amelia does. "I can pay for my half. I know this isn't a real date."

  "No, please don't offend me. I can, and will pay for all dates. I know I bitched about it earlier, but I'm paying. I'm just doing my duty as a man. A gentleman, if you will," I state nobly. She laughs, and it hits her eyes magnificently.

  "Todd Bartlett being gentlemanly, huh?" She teases. I smile because even I know that statement is a bit far-fetched but hey, I'm trying.

  "Only until I get you home, and show you exactly how ungentlemanly I can be." I bite my bottom lip, and go to grab her waist but it's in that second I realized I just screwed up. I pull back my arm, and her eyes go as wide as quarters. She turns bright red.

  I squeeze my eyes closed as she lets out a breathy, "Uhm..." Just that noise from her is almost enough to make my dick hard. I need to get laid or I'm going to keep perving on Amelia, and royally mess up this fake dating agreement.

  "I have to take a whiz," I announce as if it's the most appropriate thing to say at this moment. I throw my money down on the counter. "I'll just meet you out at the–"

  "Oh, um, yeah I'll just go out by the–" We talk over each other.

  "Car," we finish at the same time. We stare at each other, frozen for half an awkward-as-hell second and then go our separate ways.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. I look at the clock above the bathroom door. Unbelievable. Within one hour my imagination has managed to jump from motor-boating--screw it, I’ll never remember her name––the waitress, to a naked Amelia getting herself off. And, last but not least, to tossing her supple little body over my shoulder like a caveman, carrying her out of this restaurant--away from that dork Justin--and fucking her senseless until she forgets who he even is. All of this in one hour on my first date.

  I pull out my dick to take a piss, but of course it's hard and rarin' to go. Great.

  16

  –– Amelia ––

  I step out into the warm summer night air and breathe it in deeply before strolling to the car. I put my bag on the hood and start digging around for my keys only to realize that Todd still has them since he's been driving my car all day. How weird. Todd Bartlett has been driving my car all day. How did I get to this point? Up until a few weeks ago, Todd was more like a myth to me than an actual person. My, h
ow quickly things can change. I decide to walk around to the passenger side of the car when I spot Justin taking the trash out.

  "Hey," I greet him loudly so he hears me.

  "Oh, hey," he tries to peek around the corner like he's looking for Todd.

  "He's in the bathroom," I let him know. He relaxes and steps closer to me.

  "Look, I know he's your boyfriend and all, I just want..." He scratches his elbow and then runs a hand through his thick hair making it stick up everywhere. It makes me grin. He's still every bit as cute as he was in high school. Black hair and dark skin from his mom being Puerto Rican, but the darkest misty-gray eyes I've ever seen. They're stunning. I smile softly at him and he continues: "I just wanted to warn you since I know you've been away at school and stuff, but Todd--he kind of gets around, and doesn't have a very good reputation when it comes to relationships. He's kind of a ‘love them and leave them’ type of guy, if you know what I mean. I know you're with him or whatever, but I wouldn't want you to get hurt is all." As the diner door open, he quickly adds, "You can do better."

  "I got it. Don't worry. See ya later, Justin." He gives a quaint wave, then heads back towards the dumpster.

  Todd comes around to my side of the car. "Oh, did you want me to drive?"

  "No. I'm opening the car door for you to get in." I turn back to Justin, which causes Todd to notice him watching us. I give him a wave and say, "Bye!" Todd opens the door, and as I'm moving my leg to get in, Todd slaps my ass. I let out a surprised yelp. He makes sure I'm in before closing the door and running around to the driver's side, while I remain stunned.

  "Before you get mad–ah, hell. Just get mad, and get it over with. Let me have it. You can slap me if you want." He pauses for a second to give me a change to, but when I don’t budge, he proceeds to pull the car out of the parking lot.

  I hardly even know where to begin, but the words pour out: "I can't believe you just did that. This is a fake date. You had no right to slap my ass, and I know you only did it because Justin was looking, you disgusting Neanderthal.