Fucker. She did know I was pissed all week.
I don’t need Jasmine knowing how bothered I am by their random-ass friendship, nor am I letting Shannon win this one. “Duh. About fifty people already asked me about it today, so.” Insert modest shrug, as if I don’t know that the idea of me and Chase being the center of Stratford conversation drives her nuts. “I’m glad wedecided to just see a movie instead of going out in public. Who needs all those eyes on us?”
“A movie,” Jasmine says sweetly. “That sounds… romantic.”
Is she trying to make me feel the weight of her hand on my thigh, the way it pressed my skin into the scratchy velvet of the movie theater seat? Because it’s definitely not working.
“Ooh, especially at the multiplex,” says Gia. “They have those reclining seats that are so big, they can fit two people. It’sveryromantic,” she adds in a tone that makes me want to bring bleach to the theater.
“So, start from the beginning,” says Jasmine, smiling like this is normal girl talk and she’s enjoying it and aren’t we all enjoying it? “How did he ask? What are you wearing?”
“You still have my really cute halter,” Shannon points out, as if my favorite blue tank top isn’t buried somewhere in the depths of her walk-in closet. “It’s so cute with jeans.”
“Jeans are so boring!” Gia protests. “Jasmine, tell her she has to wear a dress.”
“I have some cute dresses you can borrow.” Jasmine’s voice is light and playful and a flush starts creeping up my skin. I’m familiar with her cute dresses. I’ve borrowed a couple that don’t require her considerably more ample cleavage. And I know exactly which ones give easy access in a movie theater too.
I hate this conversation. I hate that she’s here. I hate that my brain won’t let this summer go.
I hate that I don’t know if she’s thinking the samethings I am or if the offer to borrow a dress is really just an offer to borrow a dress.
“Thanks, but I think Shannon’s right about the halter and jeans,” I say, my words coming out in a mumble. “Don’t wanna give him any ideas just yet, right?” I don’t know what I’m talking about anymore.
“Right,” Gia says. “Make him work for it. I wouldn’t even let Tommy touch my boobs for three months.”
“We know, G,” Kiki says on a huffy sigh, refreshing something on her phone screen. “We know.”
“What are you doing besides a movie?” Jasmine asks, resting her chin on her palm. “Are you going out to dinner too? Or just gonna make out in his car a lot?”
The other girls laugh, and I can’t tell if it’s mean-spirited, on her end or on theirs. I don’t know how to feel about any of this except that I want Jasmine to stop asking me stupid fucking questions about my date with Chase.
The truth is that I haven’t really thought about it. Despite a movie date with Chase being item number four on my high school bucket list, I’m not obsessing; I’m just plain old looking forward. I’d picked an outfit (yes, I’d already been planning on wearing the halter top and jeans before Shannon ever opened her mouth), and I’d let my mom know I was going out and might be a little late, but would text her before curfew.
It’s a movie. What more is there to say about a movie?
A lot, apparently.
Well, if that’s the game Jasmine wants to play.
“I’m pretty sure there’ll be plenty of making out wherever we go. Who’s got time for dinner whenChase Harding is on the menu?” I flash a sly smile and take a sip of my Diet Coke while the other girls whistle and laugh. I’m gratified to see Jasmine purse her lips a little bit, just enough to know she’s done with the question portion of our meal. “What are the rest of you doing tonight?”
In the end, I wear a short red skirt with a black-and-white polka dot top—neither Shannon’s suggestion, nor Jasmine and Gia’s—and I don’t give a damn what ideas Chase gets; I’ll do what I want. I also wear red lipstick, even though Shannon’s told me a million times that it scares guys off from kissing you, and the black leather sandals she once told me to burn because they made me look stumpy. (They make my legs look athletic, thank you very much.)
Judging from the look on Chase’s face when I answer the door, I look just fine. Better than. Or, if I wasn’t sure, his “Wow, you look gorgeous” helps.
“Thanks,” I say, accepting a kiss on the cheek. I call back to my mom that I’m heading out and wait until I hear her “Have fun!” before following him out to his car.
There’s no movie theater in Stratford, but the multiplex with the awesome seats is only a fifteen-minute drive, so we buckle in and make small talk about school and the movie’s reviews and work and the football team. More than once, I catch him checking me out at a red light, and by the time we get to the theater, I’m bursting to ask him the thing that’s been bothering me since the first day of school.
“Hey, can I ask you a weird question?”
He shuts off the engine. “How weird are we talking?”
“It’s… you’ve known for a while that I like you, right?” I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. “Like, it hasn’t exactly been the best-kept secret at Stratford.”
He grins, and I wish the overhead light hadn’t gone off so I could see him in better light. “A little while, maybe. But I like you too.”
“Yeah, I got that,” I say, and we both laugh. “I guess I’m just wondering… why now? Is it really the haircut? The blond? I hope it’s not the tan, because that’s already on its way out.”
