by Amy Sparling
“I always thought Bennet would be your first date,” Mom says absentmindedly as she caps a tube of lipstick.
“Not this again,” I say, rolling my eyes at my own reflection. I don’t even look like myself now that I’m all dolled up. It even makes my simple outfit of jeans and a lacy tank top look elegant.
Mom laughs. “Say what you want, I think you two are meant to be together.”
So does Ashlyn’s mom and Bennet’s Grandma, I think. It’s like just because you’re friends with someone for years and years, everyone thinks you’re secretly going to end up together. Bennet doesn’t like me. He’s never acted like he does, so don’t know what everyone’s problem is. It’s annoying.
Toby wasn’t in my homeroom class today, but he texted me earlier saying he had to work on a project in art class but we’re still on for tonight. I told him to pick me up at Mom’s salon, because it looks a lot nicer than our crappy house. I haven’t seen Toby’s house, but I know what part of town he lives in, and it’s probably a safe bet that you could fit our entire house into his garage.
My phone beeps and Mom looks over. “Is that him?”
“Yeah,” I say, reading his text. “He’ll be here in five minutes.”
Mom’s face lights up, her eyes getting freakishly big. “Are you excited? I’m excited! Tell me more about him.”
“Mom, I’ve told you everything I know!” I say, laughing. “Now chill out and don’t embarrass me!”
She stands up straight and pretends to zip her mouth shut. “I’ll be a model mother,” she says. “Absolutely perfect.”
When Toby arrives, I have to admit that a small part of me is worried he’ll come with a barrage of popular kids who are all here just to make fun of me for this obvious joke date. But he arrives alone.
His car is a pewter color that seems to get lighter or darker depending on how you look at it. The logo has interlocking circles like the Olympics logo, and I have no idea what kind of car it is. It’s obviously expensive.
Mom and I watch Toby walk up to the salon through the glass windows that are tinted on the outside so he can’t see in but we can see him. He looks so cute, wearing dark jeans and another artistic type shirt with a thin blazer over it. He looks like a model, like he should be on billboards. And yet he’s taking me out on a date.
“Damn,” Mom says under her breath.
“Be cool!” I say just as he opens the door.
“Hey!” I say, rushing up to him in what is absolutely the least cool greeting ever. And here I was thinking Mom would embarrass me. I should have known I’m totally capable of embarrassing myself.
Toby grins, one arm extending as I walk up. He hugs me quickly and I’m freaking out that we’re already on a hugging basis.
“Toby, this is my mom,” I say, turning to introduce them.
“Sarah,” she says, shaking his hand when he extends it out to her. “Nice to meet you.”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Toby says, and his smile is genuine. He turns to me. “Are you ready?”
I nod. The butterflies in my stomach are threatening to rise up and choke me to death, but I’m trying to stay cool. He seems happy to see me, and I’m still kind of blown away by that fact. We say goodbye to my mom, who tells us to have a good time, and then we’re walking out to his car.
Toby gets the door for me like a gentleman and I about melt right here on the concrete. “Thank you,” I say as heat rises in my cheeks.
I watch him walk around to his side of the car, and then I take in the interior of this thing. It’s black leather and shiny new and smells amazing.
“What kind of car is this?” I ask.
“An Audi.” He looks over at me and then cranks the engine. “My dad picked it out. I kind of wanted a truck, but he’s picky about cars and you know how it is when you’re not paying for it.”
He chuckles and I do, too, although owning a car is nowhere in my future unless I stumble upon a pile of money in the forest one day. Talking with Toby is easy. Now that we’re hanging out, I don’t feel as nervous as I did before.
He’s nice and smart and makes little jokes as we talk, and soon I’ve totally relaxed. “So, how are your golf skills?” he asks as we turn into the Magic Carpet Mini-golf.
I laugh. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been.”
The car jolts to a stop in our parking place and he looks over at me. “Are you serious?”
I nod, lifting my shoulders. “Never been.”
“Well, then I think this means I have the advantage,” he says with a laugh. “My family used to go all the time and I’m the worst golfer out of all of us.”
I laugh. “I’ll happily let you win, as long as you promise not to make fun of me for being terrible at this.”
“It’ll be fun, I promise.”
And it is fun. Toby doesn’t hold my hand or anything, but he walks close to me as we meander around the golf course. He paid the entry fee for both of us, just like my mom and Ashlyn said he would. I still brought money just in case, but it’s not needed.
We select golf clubs and a colorful golf ball out of a bucket. Mine is pink and his is orange. There are quite a few people here, but Toby says we should choose the back course because it’s not as busy on Friday nights.
The place is cool, with little obstacle courses and big dragons and doll houses on top of each hole. There’s eighteen holes in all, and I think Toby and I might set a record for who sucks the most at mini golf. Luckily, it’s really fun.
After the sixth hole, we stop keeping score on the little paper chart they give you at the start.
“Let’s just decide that we both lose,” Toby says after taking eight shots to get his ball in the hole that’s blocked by a fire breathing dragon.
“Sounds good,” I say, shoving the score card in my back pocket.
Two hours fly by and before I know it, we’re finished. “Was it fun?” Toby asks me, his eyes shimmering in the overhead lights. Even being with him for two hours hasn’t taken the edge off how handsome he is. I can’t stop looking.
“Very fun,” I say with a grin.
“I’m glad,” he says as we return our golf clubs to the front desk. “What’s for dinner? They have great pizza here but we could go somewhere else, too.”
“Pizza sounds good,” I say. The facility has a whole indoors section that we haven’t been in yet, but it promises laser tag and food and a playground for the kids.
As we walk toward the building, Toby stops to admire a giant pirate sculpture. The sign next to it says it’s from the original mini golf course they had in the fifties and has been restored to look like it did when it was new.
Toby glances at me, a weird look on his face. “Wanna selfie with me?”
“Um, sure,” I say, trying very hard not to seem like this is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me. A selfie with Toby Fitzgerald? Uh, yes please.
He holds out his arm for me to join him and we turn our backs toward the pirate. Toby’s arm slides around my shoulders and he holds out his phone.
“You look really cute,” he says, tilting his head so that it touches mine.
I’m grinning so hard when he snaps the photo. But it actually turns out really great. I am back to that floaty feeling and I can’t help myself. Toby smells so great and he’s so cute and now he has a selfie of us.
“Mind if I Instagram this?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow.
I shake my head. “I don’t mind. Can you send it to me, too?”
“Sure thing.” He sends me the photo and my phone beeps from my back pocket. “What’s your Ista? We should follow each other.”
“Yeah we should,” I say as I feel myself floating on cloud nine again. I might as well set up a permanent home on this place because I’m not sure I’ll ever come back to reality. “That would be cool.”
Chapter 5
Saturday morning, I wake up with two million notifications on my phone.
Okay, maybe not that many. I have thr
ee texts from Ashlyn, all in varying degrees of curiosity, demanding to know what happened with my date last night. I was supposed to call her as soon as I got home to tell her all about it, but the night ended weird when I realized I didn’t want Toby to see my house, but I had forgotten to arrange someone to pick me up at the salon. It was nine-thirty and I was texting my mom in the bathroom of the mini-golf place begging her to meet me at the salon. Luckily, she obliged, even though she called me crazy a few times. Her reasoning is that being dropped off at a salon is probably weirder than seeing our house, but whatever.
Then when we got home, Mom made us ice cream and insisted that I tell her all about the date. When that was over, I was tired. Going on a fun date with a hot guy who treats you nicely really takes all the energy out of you. (Mostly because you spend the whole time thinking is this really happening?) I simply didn’t have the energy to repeat the entire story to Ashlyn so I figured she could wait until this morning.
Also, I know what she’s going to ask, and the answer will only disappoint her.
No, we didn’t kiss. We didn’t hold hands either, but he did open doors for me and we took that selfie for his Instagram, so that’s something.
The selfie is the reason for all of these notifications.
I had no idea before I agreed to this date that Toby is kind of an Instagram celebrity. He has fifty thousand followers and he himself only follows thirty-six people. And now I’m one of them.
I blink a few times while I try to fully wake up, staring at my phone in disbelief. There’s no way he’s that popular.
But he is. The evidence is right here in front of me. When he posted our selfie, he came up with possibly the best caption in the history of the world:
Mini golf fun! Thanks to @LanaClarke for being my date!
Oh my God. Oh my God. I’m practically hyperventilating over here. The photo has seven thousand likes and a ton of comments, most of them nice. Some just say something like I love you!! With a ton of emojis. And I think it’s kind of weird to be so obsessed with some guy on Instagram that you proclaim your love for him on a photo where he’s clearly on a date with someone else.
I sit up in bed and spend a few minutes scrolling through his account. He posts mostly selfies, or beautiful scenery photos from places he’s traveled with his family. There are no pictures of school, and hardly any pictures of his friends unless they’re from other countries. He went backpacking in Africa last summer and posted photos with the people he met there. I am instantly jealous of his amazing life.
But as far as I can tell as I scroll through the hundreds of Instagram photos he has, I’m the only student of West Canyon High School on his Instagram. This is kind of a huge deal.
Ashlyn calls me while I’m in the middle of eating my Cheerios. I swallow my food and answer the phone.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t yeah me, you punk,” she says. “How did the date go? You left me hanging last night.”
“I’ll be over there in a minute, okay? Let me finish my cereal.”
“Bring it over here! I can’t wait!”
I laugh. “Be there in a minute. Put some coffee on, okay?”
“Sure thing, Lana babe.”
Mom is still asleep so I leave a note for her on the fridge saying I’m at Ashlyn’s. These notes probably aren’t necessary because she knows I’m always either next door at Ashlyn’s house, or two houses down at Bennet’s, but I don’t want her to worry. I finish my cereal and then head over there in my pajamas. I’m really glad you don’t have to get dressed up to hang out with friends. Date night attire is exhausting.
The asphalt is already warm from the summer heat, but not so warm that I regret being barefoot. As I head next door, Ashlyn calls my name from Bennet’s front porch, so I skip past her house and head to his.
He’s not up yet, but that’s not surprising. Bennet prefers to sleep until at least noon on weekends to make up for getting up so early on school days. I always tell him he should work the night shift when he chooses whatever he wants for his career, because it would suit him better. I actually like mornings, so long as I’m not forced awake by the shrill shriek of an alarm.
Ashlyn hands me a mug of coffee.
“Morning, you floosy,” she says, darting her eyes toward me while she takes a sip of her own coffee.
I put a fist on my hip. “How am I a floosy?”
“Well, you didn’t call me last night so I can only assume you got home too late to call, which makes you a floosy.”
I snort out a laugh and sit next to her on the porch swing. “I wasn’t home late, but Mom kept me up all night talking, so yeah.”
She makes this fake grimace. “You could have called me over!”
I roll my eyes. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
Ashlyn crinkles her lips. “So the date was a dud?”
I shake my head, taking a long sip of coffee. “No…not really. It was fun. A lot of fun.”
“But...?” she pries. I can tell she’s trying as hard as she can not to get all spastic and beg me to hurry up with the details.
“No buts,” I say with a shrug. “It was fun. He was nice.”
“But...?”
I sigh. “Have you seen his Instagram?”
She lifts an eyebrow. “You know I don’t care about that shit.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you should see this.” I slide my phone from my pajama pants pocket and open it up to his page. “He has a ton of followers and looks like he’s even more popular online than he is at school.”
Ashlyn takes my phone, her eyebrows pulling together while she looks through his profile. “Oh my gosh, that’s such a cute photo of you!” she says so high-pitched it makes me jump. “You look so happy! And your makeup is so great!”
“Don’t you think that’s weird, though?” I say, taking my phone back. “He’s super popular. Like crazy popular.”
She shrugs. “That’s just internet friends. They don’t really count, right?”
“I don’t know,” I say, looking into my coffee as if it’ll contain all the answers. “I’m just wondering why he asked me out, when he could ask out anyone.”
“Who cares? You had a good time, right?”
I nod.
“And you like him?”
I nod again, this time smiling like a goof. She grins and playfully punches me in the arm. “This is a good thing. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks.”
The porch door swings open with a screech, and a very sleepy looking Bennet steps out. He squints in the sunlight, his dark hair all ruffled and out of place even more than usual. He’s wearing blue and grey flannel pajama bottoms and no shirt.
“What’s going on here?”
“Nothing much,” I say, sliding over so he can sit next to us. “You should go back to bed. I know you hate being up early.”
He shrugs. “I couldn’t sleep with Ashlyn out here giggling like a freaking hyena.”
He shoots her a look and she just shrugs like she’s not the least bit sorry. Knowing her, she’s not. “It’s not my fault you have the good porch swing.”
“You have a bedroom in your own house, ya know,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes.
“You want some coffee?” I ask, holding out my cup.
He takes a sip and then hands it back to me. “You like too much sugar.”
“And you know that and yet you took a sip anyway, so it’s your fault, you know.”
He grins and looks over at me, his gaze sleepy. “Good point. So, what’s up?”
“You’re here just in time,” Ashlyn says, kicking at the porch with the tip of her toes to make us swing faster. “Lana was just about to tell, in explicit detail, every second of her date last night.”
“Oh, right,” Bennet says, his voice low. “Forgot about that.”
He stands up and runs a hand through his hair. “You two have fun.”
“Wait!” Ashlyn calls out, reaching an arm for him but he’s too far away, so she just cl
enches her fist in the air a few times in an effort to pretend grab him. “Don’t you wanna hear?”
He takes one look at me and then looks back at Ashlyn. “Nah, I’m good.”
The screen door clacks closed behind him and Ashlyn makes this little indignant huff. “He’s such a joy in the mornings,” she says sarcastically, then she turns her attention to me. “Okay, now spill.”
Chapter 6
22 days before prom
My school has been transformed over the weekend. What used to be a normal high school filled with normal high school things like posters advertising colleges or warning us not to drink and drive, is now a high school dedicated to one purpose.
Prom.
I don’t know if it was StuCo or the cheerleaders, or maybe a combination of both, but every hall is decorated with painted posters covered in glitter announcing that prom is on May first at the Hockley convention center.
Believe it or not, our small-town convention center is the nicest place around to host special events, and practically half the town has been married there. I’ve seen pictures of past proms and they all looked totally beautiful, but these posters are a little bit of an overkill. I’m pretty sure most students would still go to prom even if there were no glittered posters advertising it.
They’re seriously everywhere. On every wall, in multiple places. They make me think of things I hadn’t thought of until I bump into a poster near the library and get glitter all over my sleeve.
Prom.
And Toby.
In the same sentence.
Am I supposed to be thinking of that? We went on one date, so no. Definitely not. But he did text me all weekend long and we chatted and got to know each other and it seems like he’s at least mildly excited to be my friend. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to suddenly ignore me in the hallways if he didn’t have a good time on our date.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Ashlyn says as she slides into place beside me on our walk to first period. Our classes are in the same hallway so we usually meet up right about now. Only now I’m nervous because I don’t want her to know what I’m thinking.