by Claire Adams
CHAPTER TWO
After a few days, I managed to calm down. I was steadily miserable, but at least I was able to focus on my classes and my life once more. I was actually almost grateful for what had happened; it would have been really easy for me to totally and completely be distracted by Zack in my life if I hadn’t found out the kind of person that he was. I would’ve mooned along, totally wrapped up in him; having great sex, for sure, but probably missing deadlines and losing the quality of my work.
Jess had been keeping a wide berth around me—or maybe, I thought with grim humor, she was just too busy to be in the dorms very much. In the bottom half of the semester, everyone was focusing down more on their studies, trying to pull their grades up or finish strong. I had competition to book a private study room in the library every morning, but I hated the thought of being out in the middle of the room where Zack could see me and try and talk to me—if he dared. I didn’t want to have to listen to the murmurs around me either; so I kept my headphones on and just went straight to the room I booked for studying and stayed in there as long as I was allotted and came out with my headphones on. It would boil over in time, and someone else would do something humiliating to take the attention off of me. It was just a matter of getting through it.
I had somehow managed to get through all of my classwork—I even got ahead a few chapters on the American History syllabus and read ahead in the assignments for literature and Intro to Journalism. With nothing to do, I decided an afternoon of watching TV, eating snacks, and just letting my mind drift was the best possible use of my time. I popped cheese-flavored crackers into my mouth mindlessly, staring at the TV and relaxing, not thinking about anything in particular.
My vegetation was interrupted by the sound of the dorm door opening. Jess came into the room quickly, grinning as she threw herself into a chair. “Gotten over Zack yet?” she asked me.
I scowled.
“Come on, Jess, don’t be a bitch.”
Jess sighed and rolled her eyes, reaching over and snatching the box from the coffee table and dumping out a handful. She popped a few into her mouth, chewing and swallowing before she spoke again.
“Well, I mean, it’s been a few days since you kicked him to the curb. So I figured you wouldn’t mind doing me a favor.”
I raised an eyebrow and snatched the box of crackers away from her, pouring some into my hand and putting the box back onto the table.
“Oh, so not concern for my well-being, but my ability to help you out.”
Jess grinned broadly. “Well, see, it’s not just helpful to me, but it could be helpful to you, too!” I was suspicious of the chirpy tone of her voice.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Tell me what this is about.”
“Well you know how I’m having a bit of trouble in Economics?” I had heard Jess moaning from her room over how difficult her Economics class was—and how little hope she had of finishing with a decent grade.
“Yeah,” I said cautiously. What did her problems with Econ have to do with my single status?
“So there’s this guy in my class, Derick.” I pressed my lips together. Of course. “Trust me, Evie, if I could have convinced him to help me by giving him a date with me, I’d have done it. But he’s not into me. He’s into you.”
“So you volunteered me for a date with some guy I don’t know so he’d help you pass Economics?”
Jess shrugged, still smiling. “Look, everyone benefits; I get help for Economics, Derick gets a date with a girl he’s into, and you get a chance to get back out there—and a free meal.”
I wanted to be angry at her but I had to laugh.
“You didn’t—I mean he’s not expecting anything other than the date, right?”
Jess nodded quickly. “Yeah, no, there’s no guarantee of anything other than you going with him to dinner. He’s on his own if he wants to get you to make out or sleep with him—I made that completely clear.”
I shook my head, smiling in spite of myself. On the one hand, it was kind of soothing to my battered ego that someone wanted to take me on a date. On the other hand, it was a bit irritating that Jess had volunteered me for a date with a stranger. One of the last things I wanted was to get involved with a member of the opposite sex; I was only just recovering from the aftermath of my feelings towards Zack.
“And you specified only one date, right?” I asked her, wanting to rebel but not quite feeling up to it. If Jess had guaranteed the guy that I’d go out with him for as long as he wanted, I’d say no flat out.
“One date. Dinner and a movie. That’s it. No sleeping with him, no guarantees for a second date, nothing like that.”
I sighed. “Well, what’s he like?”
Jess shrugged. “He dresses in polo shirts and khakis most of the time, kind of shy, not a bad guy but not all that interesting. But he’s got the highest grade in the Econ class and he’s smart.” I popped a few more cheese crackers in my mouth and chewed them meditatively.
“Fine,” I said, shaking my head again. A date was the last thing I wanted—but Jess was my friend, and it wouldn’t kill me to get out for once. “For you, I’ll do it. But next time you decide to barter me for favors, do me a favor and ask me first.”
Jess grinned. “You’d have just said no.”
“If you do this again I will say no and there will be nothing for you to do about it but find someone else.”
Jess’ face fell into more serious lines and she nodded.
“Fair enough. But we have a deal on this one, right? You won’t decide at the last minute not to go?”
“If he turns out to be horrible, I will leave him in the middle of the date if I have to, but I will at least give him a fair shot.”
“That’s all I’m asking. My GPA thanks you.”
CHAPTER THREE
In the few days leading up to the date, I tried to prepare myself; apart from the date with Zack, I hadn’t really gone out with a guy since junior year of high school. In my senior year, I’d been so focused on getting scholarships, and so wrapped up in my mom’s decline and death that I hadn’t been able to even consider the possibility of going on a date with anyone. It just hadn’t even been on my radar. Derick had gotten my number from Jess and sent me a couple of text messages, confirming that my friend’s offer was legitimate and that I was willing to go out with him. I said what I was supposed to—that I was looking forward to it, that I was happy to get to know him, all of the polite things. But my heart wasn’t really in it. I was still—in spite of the anger I had felt—more than a little bit turned around and flipped over in my mind about Zack, still questioning what had happened and whether it was for the best.
The night of the date, Jess pulled me into my room and went to work at making sure that I was appropriate for the evening.
“Jess, it’s just dinner and a movie,” I insisted with a groan. “It’s not even someone I particularly want to impress. I can go as I am.”
Jess shook her head, going through my wardrobe quickly. “He’s taking you to a really expensive restaurant; you need to look right for that. And anyway, you don’t know—maybe he’s just your speed.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes, but I knew that when Jess was in her educational mood, it was useless to argue with her. She pulled out one of the few really nice skirts I owned, a button-down silk shirt, and a blazer that I’d last worn to my college interviews. I raised an eyebrow, but at least, I thought, I couldn’t be accused of leading anyone on in an outfit like that. Jess went into her own room while I changed and came back with a pair of heels that went perfectly with the outfit—taller than I normally wore, but I could manage them. She pushed me down into my desk chair and quickly did my hair and makeup; in the end I looked like a sleek, put-together woman—kind of like my mom. The comparison made me almost want to cry; but I held back my tears, knowing that I’d just ruin the makeup and start my date off on completely the wrong foot.
I sat in the common area of the dorm to wait for the guy to s
how up. He apparently had quite a nice car, according to Jess; I’d never seen it myself, and I wondered if he was like the kinds of guys I’d known in high school who’d had the nicer cars—braggarts who didn’t care about anything other than their material possessions. One thing I’d always liked about Zack: he didn’t put that much importance on his possessions. I shied away from the comparison. I wasn’t going to think about Zack at all. I wasn’t going to compare him—especially favorably—to the guy that I was with. I would put him completely out of my mind.
Just when I was starting to become really impatient, there was a knock at the door. I stood quickly and heard Jess’ door slam open. She was right there at my side. “Remember,” she said quietly. I rolled my eyes but nodded, and opened the door to let Derick in. He was taller than Zack by maybe an inch or two, but not as muscular; where Zack had medium-brown hair and dark eyes, Derick had sandy blond hair, pale blue eyes, and slightly freckled pale skin that had an almost-translucent look to it. He smiled at me as he stepped over the threshold, dressed in a pair of slacks and a button-down shirt that was just slightly too big for him, though the deep maroon color of it complemented his skin and hair.
“It’s good to meet you, Evelyn,” Derick said, extending his hand. I shook it quickly, feeling awkward and uncertain. He seemed like a perfectly nice guy and Jess had said more than once that he was, but there was something stilted, something just a little bit off-putting about his excitement. “You look lovely.”
He pulled me closer by the hand, giving me a quick hug. I could smell his green, reedy-smelling cologne, with the sweat-smell underneath that told me he was nervous.
“Have a great night, you two,” Jess said, beaming at us both. Derick turned to lead me out through the door and she shot me one last cautioning look, mouthing “be nice,” as I let myself be pulled out of the comfort of my dorm.
Derick’s car was nice—it was a relatively recent model BMW, which was the first real topic of conversation that I could actually feel comfortable discussing; the ride down on the elevator had been awkwardly silent, and the walk to the parking lot wasn’t much better. “Nice Beemer,” I said, smiling politely.
“My parents got it for me as a graduation present; not new, but with a car like this new isn’t really needed.”
He opened the door for me on the passenger side and I reached over to unlock the driver’s side as he walked around the front of the car. When he started up the car, his stereo came on, not quite blasting Hot Hot Heat over the speakers. I gave him at least a few points for having decent taste in music and tried to relax against the lush seat as Derick pulled out of the parking spot.
He let me pick the movie and I tried to choose something that neither of us would hate. It was easy for me to see that Derick was trying to impress me; there was an intensity to his gaze on me, something in the way that he kept checking to see if I was comfortable, if I was happy. It wasn’t like with Zack—and I stopped myself hard and fast in the midst of that thought. Derick was a different person from the guy I had dated before. He was a little shy, he was a little awkward. The movie I picked was sold out for the closest showing, so we had twenty minutes in the lobby to stand and talk.
“Jess says you’re the best one in the Econ class,” I said, trying not to fidget or pick at my clothes.
“Oh yes,” Derick said, smiling quickly. “Economics is really fascinating if you can get into it and understand it.”
I was relieved and bored at the same time as he launched into an explanation of his theories as to how economics could explain anything and everything in the world, even how he’d been thrilled to have a chance to put his economic understanding to use in bargaining his help in exchange for a chance to impress me on a date.
When it was time to start heading in for the movie—a comedy that I’d seen trailers for on TV that at least cut the difference between the romantic dramas and action flicks that were the theater’s other offerings—Derick asked me if I wanted anything at the concession stand. Since we were going to dinner afterward, I settled for a soda; Derick bought some candy that he offered to share, and I found myself then agreeing to make sure I ate some of it. I checked the time on the big wall clock on our way into the theater and told myself that at least during the movie we wouldn’t have to talk much.
I wasn’t being totally fair to Derick and I knew it. He wasn’t a bad guy—he was nice and polite, holding the door for an older couple who came behind us, saying “please” and “thank you” to the ticket booth person and the concession stand person alike, and looking after my comfort constantly. But I couldn’t really see anything obvious that we had in common. He asked what I was studying and listened patiently as I explained why I went into Journalism, why I wanted to go on to work in that field.
“Your position at the campus newspaper will probably put you really ahead of your peers—and it’ll give you a head start on getting internships, too,” he told me, beaming at me proudly as if he was thrilled that I was thinking so far ahead.
I had already thought of it, of course; for news writing, a portfolio and experience counted almost as much as the degree did. But I also knew that if it came down to quitting the newspaper or preserving my GPA, I would pick my classes in a heartbeat—whereas I’m sure Derick would have found a way, in his smartest-guy-in-the-room way, to cut back on his sleep but still manage to do both. We struggled to find something that we had in common, comparing our interests in books, music, movies, and even—as a last resort—art. There was something about Derick that made me think he was subtly checking off a list in his head of expectations he had for me, that he was comparing me to some image he had in his mind of the perfect, economically sound girlfriend. There were some bands that we both liked, but our tastes were mostly different; in the back of my mind, I thought to myself that Derick was probably only agreeing on the few bands we did both like just to have something in common. He liked nonfiction books while I was a fan of fiction; he preferred documentaries and realistic art while I was more into light entertainment and the modern art movement, even post-modern, from an art appreciation class I had taken in high school.
The movie started and we both went quiet. I wondered if Derick felt as much relief as I did. I ate some of his candy at his behest—though sour gummies are not my favorite—and sipped at my soda as I got more and more into the movie. The most convenient thing about the kind of date that he had chosen to take me on was that there was the entire span of the three-hour movie where we didn’t, and couldn’t, speak.
My mind wandered a little bit as I watched the movie; the plot wasn’t very demanding. I thought about Zack, wondering in the back of my brain what he was doing while I was on this almost-disaster of a date. I shouldn’t have, but I pictured him in my mind at a party hosted by his frat—or maybe a sorority party down the block. He would be grinding on some girl, telling her all the sweet, sexy things he had said to me, conning another woman into sleeping with him. In spite of the fact that I knew I should just drop the question in my mind, I dwelled on it, getting more than a little irritated at him. If it weren’t for the fact that I knew full well that Derick had done nothing wrong in our date, and that Jess needed me to come through for her to get help in her class, I would have just left.
After the movie, Derick managed to finagle his way into holding my hand while we walked out to his car, talking about the funnier aspects of the story. It was nothing incredibly original, but I was at least more comfortable talking about that than I would have been talking about myself, or hearing about Derick. I already knew that there would be no second date; I just couldn’t make myself interested in him, in spite of the obvious evidence that he came from a well-to-do family and seemed perfectly nice. But I wasn’t about to demonstrate to him that I had already given up hope of finding any kind of spark between the two of us. It wouldn’t be fair or nice to him, and on top of it, I wasn’t sure that he would honor his agreement with Jess if I didn’t manage to make it all the way through the da
te. I was absolutely starving by the time we got into his car, and I was more than happy with the fact that we were going to dinner next.
I kept up my end of the conversation as we drove from the theater to the restaurant, telling Derick about the time that I had seen Hot Hot Heat play live and how I’d managed to talk myself into a quick meeting with the band. Derick peppered me with questions about it—how I’d convinced the roadies and the security people, what I had talked to the different band members about.
“Well,” I said, smiling slightly, “I had a press pass from the high school newspaper, and I basically just sort of…pressed my point with the security guy, saying that even though it was a high school paper, I was a very professional type of person, and that I really wanted to write an article for the school rag about the concert and the band.” I shrugged.
“And they actually bought that?” I laughed.
“Well it was partly true anyway; I did want to do an article. But I think it was mostly that I just stood there not being rude or fan girl-like, persistently arguing the point. The guy just eventually gave up and led me back to where the band was hanging out in their green room.”
It was one of the more daring stunts I had ever done in my life—the sort of thing that, looking back on it, was more the inspiration of the moment than something I could have planned. If I had tried to plan an attack to get backstage, it would have failed miserably from me overthinking it. But because I had just had the idea and acted on it, I’d pulled it off.