“Did you hear Arianna Morgan got married?” I say, grasping for some common ground as I try to find my way back to the Jamie of my teenage years: the one who seemed to have a kind of golden glow around him all the time, as if he wasn’t quite human.
But it’s like the Jamie I knew — or didn’t know, as the case may be — has been overlaid with this new, older version of himself, and it’s already hard for me to reconcile the two. This new Jamie isn’t particularly interested in Arianna Morgan and her wedding — which is fair enough, because neither am I, really — so we lapse into another long silence, broken only by the sound of Jamie noisily chomping his way through the remainder of the tapas in a way that reminds me of a cow chewing the cud.
This is not how this was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to be a noisy eater who barely remembers me, and wears cheap plastic flip-flops which showcase his weirdly long toenails.Iwasn’t supposed to be a shallow airhead, who cares about people’stoenails, of all things. And, I mean, I’mtryingnot to. I’m trying so hard not to be hopelessly superficial about all of this, but, of course, it’s notjustthe toenails, is it? Or the way he screws his face up as if he’s in pain every time he takes a bite of his food. It’s the way he laughed at my singing, butdidn’tlaugh at any of my jokes. It’s the way we can’t seem to grab onto a single thread of conversation that’s equally interesting to both of us.
It’s kind ofeverything, really.
I think about Alex’s comment about high school popularity not being a guarantee of future happiness, and shift uncomfortably in my seat.
“This has been great,” says Jamie, who seems totally oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere that’s surrounding us. “We should do it again sometime.”
“Um, yeah,” I agree, hoping this is just one of those things people say but don’t really mean.
“Wow, is that the time?”
Jamie’s looking at his watch, an expression of surprise on his face.
“Sorry, Summer,” he says, getting hurriedly to his feet. “Gotta bounce.”
“Oh. That’s okay,” I reply, mentally adding the phrase “gotta bounce” to the growing list of things that give me the ick all of a sudden.
“Right. Well, like I said, it’s been great seeing you. We should do it again sometime.”
Jamie leans forward and, before I know quite what’s happening, his lips brush softly against mine, so quickly that it’s over before it even begun, and there’s no time for me to feel awkward about it. There’s no time for me to feelanythingabout it, actually, other than mildly repulsed by the fact that he tastes like mojo sauce, and garlic.
“You know how to get back to your hotel from here, yeah?” Jamie straightens up as if nothing happened, glancing at his watch again.
Didnothing happen? Did I justimaginethat kiss… if you can call it that?
“There’s a taxi rank just around the corner,” he goes on. “Just where we met. You’ll be okay getting there, won’t you? It’s just—”
He holds up his wrist and taps his watch apologetically, looking like he’s itching to run away.
Way to serve up some seriously mixed signals, Jamie.
“Sure, sure,” I tell him, getting up myself. “You …. bounce. I’ll be fine.”
“Great. Thanks, Summer. You’re the best.”
He throws a handful of euros on the table, which I can already tell isn’t going to be nearly enough to cover his share of the bill. Then, with a jaunty little wave, he’s gone.
I just had my first date with Jamie Reynolds.
And I’m not entirely sure what to think about it.
Thirteen
Ispend the taxi ride back to the hotel meticulously over-thinking every moment of my meeting with Jamie, but when we finally pull up outside the huge revolving glass doors, I’m still no closer to understanding what just happened, and whether or not I can cross “kiss Jamie Reynolds” off my list of resolutions.
Hedidkiss me, though.
But… only just.
Then he ran off in a hurry, without asking me for my number, or arranging a time to meet up again.
So… does that mean it was akisskiss, or was it maybe just afriendlykiss? A nice-to-see-you-but-let’s-never-do-it-again kiss?
For the briefest of seconds, I consider messaging Chloe and asking what she thinks. Then I remember the time I asked Chloe what I should wear to the Year 10 disco, and she suggested I get my hair permed, so maybe not.
