Friday evening, it’s almost time for my date with Alex, but no matter how many times I ask, he refuses to say where we’re going. The only clue: “Wear something you’re willing to get dirty.”
I scowl at my closet, wondering what the hell that could mean.
“If someone warns you your clothes might get dirty on a date, where do you think you’ll be going?”
“Hiking?” Madison muses.
“Eh, I thought that. But it’s night.”
I hear her type something. I peek my head out of the closet and see that she’s put the manga she was reading—loaned to her by Patrick—aside and pulled out her laptop. She reads out a list: “Food fight? Paintball? Ooh, cooking class?”
“Hmm. Yeah. Could be cooking,” I acknowledge, but none of those ideas feel quiteright.
They don’t feelAlex.
“You really like this Alex guy, huh,” Madison remarks in a tone I can’t quite decipher.
She has a late shift at the library in a bit, but I know she’s seeing Patrick again this weekend, so I take a moment to figure out a response I don’t mind getting back to Ellie.
“He’s cool.” I shrug. “We’ll see how tonight goes.”
“I guess I’m just surprised you’re moving on this fast when you seemed so into Ellie.”
I think about our stilted conversation after creative writing.
“If he wanted me to wait around for him, he should have texted.”
Ha. Letthatget back to him.
Plagued by decision paralysis, I finally grab jeans and a cute top after I realize there is not a single thing in this closet I’ll own by my thirties, so even if the outfit I wear tonight gets ruined, it’s no real loss to me. The joys and perils of fast fashion.
By the time Alex and I are in his car, on our way to wherever we’re going, I’m annoyed that I spent hours debating what to wear because he thought it’d be cute to keep his plans a secret.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Where do you think I’m taking you?”
“Are you serious? We’reonthe date, and I still can’t know?”
“Dead serious,” he says, then pauses and glances at me. Whatever he sees on my face causes him to let out a small laugh.
“You think this is funny?” I demand, not hiding my annoyance.
Alex shrugs. “Kind of. We’ve got a bit of a drive, so you have time to let your brain run wild wondering. Please feel free to guess out loud.”
“Iwouldhave said dinner and a movie based on your text about eating late, but then there was your comment about getting dirty.”
I don’t realize how that sounds until the word is out of my mouth.Dirty. Alex stops at a red light and glances away from the road long enough give me a not-at-all-subtle once-over.
“You look great, by the way. Kind of sad we might ruin that outfit.”
Even though his words send a thrill through me, I roll my eyes. “You’re a shameless flirt.”
“There’s no shame in saying exactly how you feel.”
I run my hand along the plastic door panel, then lower it to thefabric seat underneath me. I was surprised when I first saw Alex’s car last week, a white Corolla old enough that he must have bought it used but not old enough to feel vintage. It smells vaguely of gasoline and old cigarettes.
Such a far cry from the ostentatious sports car he drove in 2019.
