Marissa tries to stifle a laugh. She’s only partially successful.
“What did he say to that?”
“He didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. I thought I was going to die of embarrassment. Then he said ‘orange, yellow, purple, white.’”
“No way!” She’s full out laughing now. “That’s too funny,” she says finally. “Too funny.”
I smile. “He is pretty funny, I have to say. He told me his last girlfriend broke up with him because he was too funny.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. And too sweet, and too good in bed.”
She laughs again. “He does sound funny.”
“And since you disappeared on me, he walked me home.”
She’s beaming now, obviously very pleased with the success of her scheme. “Just trying to help,” she says. “No need to thank me.
“Ha, ha. Don’t worry, I won’t.”
“I told you it doesn’t matter what you say to guys, as long as you say something. Who would have thought red, blue, green, black was such a good pick up line? Maybe I’ll try it next time I see a guy I like.”
“Oh, and did I mention he asked me out?” I ask nonchalantly.
Marissa jumps up off the bed. “No way! When?”
“Tomorrow night.” I casually strum a couple more chords. “I told him I’d think about it.”
Her jaw drops and her eyes get wide. Her face reminds me of a poster of a famous painting I saw. It’s called “The Scream” or something like that.
“You did not! Tell me you didn’t say that.”
“Why not?” I ask innocently. “I didn’t want to rush into anything. He could be an axe murderer or something.”
Marissa digs her fingers into her hair. “What am I going to do with you?” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you didn’t say yes.”
I can’t keep the grin off my face any longer. Marissa realizes I’ve been playing her.
“Of course I said yes,” I say. “What did you think? He’s really nice.”
She sits back down on the bed and puts her hand on my shoulder. “I’m impressed, Roomie. Most girls have to actually wear their hunting outfit to catch a guy’s interest. All you had to do was carry yours in a bag.”
Chapter 8
I’m sitting alone in my room, doing nothing. Marissa is gone for the weekend. It’s her younger sister’s birthday today and they’re having a big party for her. My first weekend away at college, and my roommate is gone. I could have gone home, too, but the point of living on campus is to NOT go home, at least not too often. Mom asked why I wasn’t coming home, and I told her I wanted to stay here to get to know the other girls. She said she understood, but I think she was a little hurt. I didn’t tell her I have a date tonight. I suppose I could have had Chris pick me up at home, but I don’t want any guys meeting Mom and Dad until they have to.
The afternoon is crawling by at a snail’s pace—no, make that like a snail stuck in the mud …going uphill…with a broken leg. That’s how slow the afternoon is going. Maybe even slower.
I’ve done everything I can think of to pass the time. My homework for the week is done. I’ve played my guitar until my fingers hurt. I texted back and forth with Marissa, but then she had to go. So now I’m channel surfing the television, but there’s nothing on except sports. If I was a guy, I’d be in heaven. But I’m not a guy, and I’m definitely not in heaven!
I come across “The Notebook” on TNT. Now I am in heaven. I love this movie! Allie and Noah are dancing in the street in the middle of the night—one of my all-time favorite scenes. Ohhh, to be Allie and to find a Noah. Have I mentioned I’m a sap for romance? No movie has done love and romance better than this one. I’m glued to my seat for an hour, and when the movie finally draws to a close, I’ve got a pile of wet tissues on the floor next to my chair. Like I said, I’m such a sap.
I wipe my eyes one last time and check the time. Four o’clock. Three hours until Chris picks me up. Now what?
I check the channel guide, hoping TNT will be repeating the movie, the way they sometimes do, so I can watch it from the beginning. But they’re not. The next movie isn’t even a love story—it’s something with cyborgs and zombies. Iccck! Talk about a crummy programming decision. All the guys are already watching football—why put on a zombie movie? Give us girls something to watch, please!
I click through the channels one more time, but there’s nothing remotely interesting to me. No love stories, no country music videos, no cool crossover shows like that one with Taylor Swift and Def Leopard. I sigh and switch off the TV.
I should have gone to the campus bookstore this morning and bought Dracula. Then I’d have something to read, at least. I could still go get it, but by the time I walked there and back, it would be time to start getting ready.
Thinking about getting ready is beginning to make me nervous. I’ve got my hopes up for tonight, but that only makes me more nervous. Aim small, girl, I tell myself. Be the cautious girl you’ve always been. Small expectations mean small disappointments. I’ve learned that lesson well.
Still, there are decisions to make. How should I do my hair? What should I wear? I’m such a dork about these things.
I go stand in front of the mirror. I wish Marissa was here. Why did her sister’s birthday have to be this weekend? It’s so not fair. She told me I should wear my new boots and new shirt with my yoga pants. Something about making sure I “seal the deal.” Seal the deal? What am I, trying to sell a car or something? Is that outfit even appropriate for a first date?
I stretch out on my bed and try to relax, wishing I had more experience with this dating stuff. How did I manage to go my whole senior year without going on even one date? The answer pops immediately into my head and brings a feeling of sadness with it. It was because of Justin, of course. Not that I blame him. No, I blame only myself. But he was the reason, for sure. I close my eyes and remember….
It’s a cool Sunday afternoon in the middle of November. Justin and I are sitting on an old fallen log in a park not far from my house. He looks great, as usual. He’s wearing his favorite jeans and a light green hoodie that makes his green eyes pop. We’ve been talking and laughing for over an hour. Nobody makes me feel as good as Justin does.
I’ve been in love with him ever since we met in English class in the second half of junior year. He’s everything I could ever ask for in a guy—smart, cute, honest and open. He’s unpretentious, too. I don’t even care that he’s one of the best players on the basketball team.
I know he likes me, too. We talk all the time, and text almost every night. There’s just one tiny problem—Nicole!
Justin likes me, but he’s in love with Nicole. They’ve been going out since junior year. Even I have to admit Nicole is hot, but she treats Justin like crap. He’s always bitching and moaning about it to me. How she doesn’t understand him, doesn’t really listen to him, doesn’t care about what he thinks.
That’s what he’s saying to me now. Telling me about an argument they had last night, and how Nicole just kept trashing everything he said.
I’d love to tell him I would never do that, but I don’t, of course. If only I could pound some sense into his beautiful head. Tell him to look past Nicole’s hot outfits and see her as a person. Tell him how shallow she is. How he deserves someone so much better. Someone like me.
Instead, I mumble something about how she’ll get over it, like she always does. And now here comes that beautiful smile again.
“I’m glad you’re my bud, Heather. You always know how to cheer me up.”
Ugggh! Bud. I hate that word. But to him, that’s what we are. Best buddies. He can’t see past Nicole.
And that’s how things stayed my whole senior year. I spent the entire year thinking Justin would finally see the light and come to his senses, but he never did. I thought we belonged together, but he obviously didn’t see it that way. Maybe he’ll wake up one day years from now and realize what he
missed. That won’t do me any good, though.
I haven’t seen him in a couple of months. He accepted a basketball scholarship out of state, and left at the beginning of the summer to go work out with the team or something. At least he finally dumped Nicole. She’s here at State, but I don’t know if she’s living on campus. I wonder if I’ll ever see Justin again.
Anyhow, so now here I am, all stressed out about a first date. Most girls probably get over this in high school, but I never let myself have the chance to get used to it. I’d like to blame Justin, but I know it’s my fault. That doesn’t make it any easier though.
I get up and start ruffling through my closet. It’s going to take me a while to decide what to wear, so I may as well get started. I’ve got nothing better to do.
First decision: pants or a skirt. If I can decide on that, a top should be easy, I hope. Dresses are out—this is a casual date. Good thing, too, since I only have two dresses in my closet and I don’t really like either one. Jeans would be easy, and comfortable—but I’m afraid mine are too casual. It’s only a movie and pizza, but what if Chris dresses up a bit? Now, if I owned some designer jeans it might be different. But I don’t, of course.
I eliminate jeans.
I pull out three skirts and two pairs of pants and lay them out on the bed. Ugggh! Who bought this stuff? It all looks so high schoolish. Maybe this is why Justin never saw me as more than a buddy. I don’t want Chris to see me the same way. I’m definitely going to have to make another trip to The Buff with Marissa. She’ll be all for that, but unfortunately, it doesn’t do me any good right now.
Maybe my new silk shirt can save one of the skirts. I slip into a black one that stops just above my knees, then go back to the closet to get the shirt. I put it on and check myself out in the mirror.
No good. I like the shirt, but it’s really too long for this skirt. I try tucking it in, but I don’t like the way it looks. I try it with a longer navy skirt, but I don’t like that look, either. I’m running out of options. I may have to go with the yoga pants and boots by default.
I put off a final decision. It’s time to hop into the shower, anyway. My hair takes forever to dry, so unless I want to tuck it into a bun behind my head, I need to get going.
I look in the mirror again. This time, I’m liking what I see—kind of, at least. I’m wearing my hunting outfit. The combo is definitely both cooler and hotter than anything I’ve ever worn. And, I have to admit, the whole thing is really comfortable. Yoga pants and soft boots definitely rock the comfort factor. But do I have the guts to wear it outside of my room? The movie will be dark, of course, and for pizza we’ll be sitting in a booth, so maybe it won’t be too bad. And it’s not like I have a lot of choices. Okay, hunting outfit it is, winner by default.
Now, what about my hair? Should I wear it down and loose, or pull it back? Down and loose, I can hide behind it if I need to. Pulled back, it’ll be out of my way, one less thing to worry about. Decisions, decisions, decisions. I stress about it for a few minutes, then opt for comfort over concealment. Pulled back it is. I grab a hair band and gather my hair into a thick ponytail.
A soft knock sounds at my door. Oh my god! Is it seven o’clock already? I take one last look in the mirror. I see several things I want to change, but there’s no time. That’s probably a good thing, though. If I had any more time, I’m sure I’d drive myself crazy, if I’m not there already. Still, I make one final adjustment, flipping my hair forward over my left shoulder as I cross to the door. Now I can at least run my fingers through it if I get nervous. If I get nervous? Ha! My fingers are already dancing in my hair as I pull the door open.
Chris is standing there, smiling confidently. He looks great. He’s wearing dark gray pants and a black button shirt with vertical gold stripes. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He looks casual and classy at the same time. I wonder how long it took him to decide what to wear. Five minutes, probably, if that. I don’t think guys stress over this stuff like girls do. Especially girls like me. I’m glad I decided against jeans.
I’ve barely opened the door when the smile drops from Chris’s face. He stands there, staring at me with his mouth slightly open. His eyes travel slowly down from my face to my body. I feel like I’m on display, and that I’m failing the inspection. I knew I should have met him out in front of the dorm—I could have just jumped into his truck—but he wanted to be a gentleman and pick me up at my door. So now I’m stuck, standing here with nowhere to hide.
I look down at myself, wondering what he’s seeing. A thousand thoughts race through my brain. Did I spill something on myself? Am I too skinny? Too fat? Does he hate my outfit?
Say something, Chris, please. No, never mind, don’t say anything. I don’t want to know. I wish I could just disappear, or teleport myself somewhere. Anywhere but where I’m standing right now.
I’m never going on another date. Never, ever!
Chapter 9
“You look amazing,” Chris says finally. “Absolutely amazing.”
The smile is back on his face. I notice his eyes keep straying down to my legs and my boots. A moment ago I wanted to disappear. Now I’m floating. I feel like I’m in heaven. Thank you, Marissa!
“Thanks,” I manage to say. “You look pretty good yourself.”
“I’d ask for a quick tour,” he jokes, “but I can see the whole place from here.”
“Very funny,” I say. I take a quick glance over my shoulder. “It is pretty small, isn’t it? But I’m very happy to be here, believe me. Besides, we can’t all live in the Ritz.”
The Ritz is the nickname given by students to Sedgewick Hall, where Chris lives. It’s the newest dorm on campus, and it’s got nothing but suites, with each student getting his own bedroom. All the furnishings are also new, of course. Since dorm choices are given by seniority, no way can a freshman get into the Ritz. Not that I’d want to spend the extra money, anyhow. And Sedgewick is way over on the edge of campus, much farther from most of the classrooms than my dorm.
“No, we can’t,” Chris says. He flashes his teasing grin. “But if you behave yourself, I just might give you a tour one of these days. No charge.”
Uh, oh. Alarm bells begin to go off in my head. Is he already thinking about getting me back to his place? I am sooo not ready for that. My mind flashes ahead to the end of tonight’s date, imagining a totally awkward scene. How do I decline his advances, without seeming like a scared fifteen-year-old? Or hurting his feelings? Calm down girl, I tell myself, he’s just making a joke. You’re getting waaay ahead of yourself.
I look at him more closely. Happily, I don’t see any hint of a double meaning in his expression. Yeah, he’s just making a joke… I hope. Sometimes, it’s really difficult being me. My imagination is usually my own worst enemy—conjuring up disasters that never come to be. I remember something we learned in high school that Mark Twain said: “I’m an old man and have known a great many troubles, but most of them never happened.” That’s me, all right. I’ve endured a few real troubles, sure, but most existed simply in my mind. I wonder if I’ll ever outgrow that. Right now, it doesn’t seem like it.
Chris seems blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil. I am profoundly grateful for that. It’s bad enough that I have to be inside my head. I certainly wouldn’t wish it on him.
“Do you like living in Sedgewick?” I ask, changing the subject without really changing it.
“Yeah, I do. One of my roommates is kind of an a-hole, but the other two are cool. Whenever he gets to be too much to take, I just retreat to my room. Luckily, he spends a lot of time away from the dorm.”
“Marissa and I get along great, so I don’t have to worry about anything like that.”
Chris glances at his watch. “You ready to go?” he asks. “The movie starts in twenty-five minutes. If we want to have time to get some popcorn, we’d better get going.”
“Yep, I’m all set.”
I pull the door closed and follow Chris across to the
elevator. The door slides open almost as soon as he pushes the button. There’s a girl inside I don’t recognize, but she makes no move to come out. I guess she got in on the way up, even though she’s going down. She gives Chris an approving look, but he barely glances at her. He certainly doesn’t seem to have noticed the way she looked at him. I like that a lot.
Just to be safe, though, I edge closer against Chris, making sure this girl knows he’s mine. Mine for tonight, anyhow, I remind myself.
The movie was great—funny and romantic, just the way I like. Chris and I are now sitting across from each other in a booth in the back corner of a popular pizza joint a block from campus. The red vinyl benches are worn and lumpy, but I don’t care. The varnished wood tabletop bears the scratched markings of decades of young revelers. I see several hearts with initials carved inside—I wonder if my initials will ever appear inside a heart somewhere. With my track record, I’ll probably have to carve them myself, along with a fake guy’s initials.
The restaurant is jammed with students. I’m pretty sure many of them are over twenty-one, because it’s pretty boisterous in here. It’s hard to imagine this kind of volume without alcohol playing at least some part. Chris and I have to speak up to hear each other over the raucous chatter.
“The movie was really good,” I say. “You made a great choice, Chris. Thanks.”
“Well, I was pretty sure you wouldn’t be into car chases and explosions,” he says, “so that narrowed the choices a bit.”
“Did you like it, too?” I ask.
“Yeah, I did. I thought it was pretty funny.”
A cute pony-tailed waitress bustles over to take our order. She’s almost certainly a fellow State student. She smiles and asks what we want.
“Let’s see if we can agree on a pizza as well as we did on the movie,” Chris says. “What do you like?”
“Pepperoni,” I say.
“Pepperoni is good,” Chris says. “And how about some mushrooms, too?”
Mine: A Love Story Page 5