At lunch I'm chatting with the girls when Cam and our friend, Chip, join our table in the cafeteria. Lacey automatically scoots over to make room, knowing Cam will sit next to me and this way he'll have to sit next to her, too. Chip sits on my other side, between me and Emmers, whose shy smile tells me she's pleased with the arrangement. I've noticed her little crush before, but Chip remains predictably clueless. He slides his arm around the back of my chair, his other hand finding the bare skin of my knee. I roll my eyes, still so unaccustomed to my friends treating me like sexual prey. Chip and I have been friends since little league.
"Damn, Rory, I don't think I've ever seen you in a skirt outside a' church. I like it." He smirks with suggestive approval.
I swat his hand off my knee just as Cam, from my opposite side, swings Chip's arm from the back of my chair, nearly toppling Chip's over.
"Back off, Chip, she's yourfriend," Cam reminds him with a glare that would intimidate a prize fighter.I squeeze Cam's broad shoulder to call him off. Chip is just being Chip - he doesn't know any better.
"It's fine, Cam. I can handle myself." I turn back to Chip, "Franklin Chipley, the next time your hand finds its way to my leg, it will be returned minus at least one finger," I warn through a overly saccharine smile.
Chip splays his palms forward in surrender. "Point taken, Jeez," he concedes. "But you shouldn't prance around in short little skirts with legs like that. How's a man to help himself?"
"Man?" I raise my brows skeptically.
Chip play-punches me in the arm, and just like that I'm back to being one of the guys.
"And it's my uniform," I grumble. He knows I'm not used to wearing short skirts like this any more than he's used to seeing me in them.
"Whatever, Rory girl," he says, adopting Cam's nickname for me, next time wear those legging things underneath," he suggests.
"It's eighty degrees!"
Cam reinserts himself and it's like he hasn't noticed the jest in the exchange, though I'm not sure how it could've been missed. "She'll wear what she likes, and you'll keep your hands to yourself." Cam's voice is quiet, but full of warning.
"Whatever dude, I was kidding... sorta. Relax!"
Cam, placated, goes back to eating his sandwich, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Lacey practically swoon as she always does at Cam's protective streak. And, as always, I wish it was intended for her benefit and not mine. Icanhandle myself. Certainly with Chip anyway.
****
Practice always ends early on Fridays when there's no game. Cam and I make our way to his car in the student lot, and I stop in my tracks when I notice the white rose tucked under the windshield wiper on the passenger side. Cam sighs. I look at him, bemused, but he just shrugs.
"Well it ain't for me," he mutters.
I glance around and spot Robin standing beside his car across the lot, staring at me. He smiles, winks, folds himself into the driver's seat, and drives off. My blush rises to my cheeks, spreading downward with a vengeance.
"Jeez. He's pullin' out all the stops, i'nt he?" Cam grumbles.
"Well it's on your car, maybe you're the one he likes," I tease. I pick up the rose and realize there's a note tucked under it:
See you at 7, Sweetheart. Can't wait.
I try to hide my smile.
"Yeah, well he should buy me a whole damn bouquet since I'm the only reason he's scorin' any touchdowns this season."
****
I've never owned many dresses, but I did purchase a few on shopping trips with Lacey this summer. I choose a short, flouncy, red dress with a fitted bodice and cap sleeves. I leave my hair loose, thankful my mother insisted on taking the time last year to teach me how to do my makeup. Lacey's tutelage left me with blue shadow and bright pink cheeks - so not me. My perpetual blushing around Robin requires no cosmetic assistance, and I feel much more comfortable in just a little earth toned shadow and mascara paired with a sheer lip gloss. I barely recognize myself in the mirror. I look like such agirl.
I can't believe I'm about to go on my first date and it's with none other than Robin Forbes. I feel as if I've stepped inside some modern fairytale. But I also feel like maybe they casted the wrong player. Like the whole thing is just one monumental misunderstanding. I have no idea how to act, what to say. He's going to kiss me - he said as much last week - and I haven't a clue how to kiss. Perhaps I should've taken Cam up on his offer to teach me years ago. Or maybe I should have listened to him and just declined this date in the first place. I text him.
I'm freaking. You around?
Yep.
His reply is not only instantaneous, but I can actually hear his laughter and look out my window to see if he's outside, but it's too dark to tell.
A knock sounds on my door and I swing it open to find Cam in his worn dark jeans and a fitted black tee shirt. He really is the epitome oftall, dark, and handsome-at least physically - right down to that perfect Florida tan. It's obvious why Lacey and half the girls in our grade are obsessed. He runs his hand through his overlong mahogany locks and I'm thrown for a second by how positivelymalehe looks. Suddenly he's not my best buddy Cam, he's a hot guy, and I don't know where these wayward thoughts are coming from. I step back and gesture for him to enter, raising my eyebrows for an explanation for how he made it over so quickly. We've communicated like this since we were kids. We don't always need words to have a conversation. Sometimes we can get through an entire exchange with only a few glances.
