Disclaimer: Zoey 101 isn't mine.
A/N: Random one-shot I came up with comparing two boys Zoey (sort of) dates in the course of two weeks. Takes place end of freshman year. Repition in the two seperate vignettes was done on purpose.
XXX
First
Zoey is sitting at a lunch table outside during her free period on a Tuesday morning when he approaches. She's noticed him watching her recently, and whenever she's looked his way, he's sent a confident, handsome smile in her direction before going back to talking to his friends. He's cute in a typical year-older-jock, blonde-hair-blue-eyes sort of way. When he sits down beside her she's forced to look at him and temporarily stop trying to do an algebra problem. He's smooth as he asks her out for Friday night, but she's hesitant to say yes, though in the end she does.
It isn't like there's anyone else building up the courage to ask her out, anyway.
Friday night she's ready to go at seven, just like they'd agreed, but he doesn't show up until seven-fifteen and mumbles a half-assed excuse, turning up his charming smile to try and make her forget he's just disappointed her. He wears a t-shirt with some band or another's name on it and a pair of jeans, his hair unmovable because of all the gel he's used. He takes her to Sushi Rox and requests a table right in the center of the restaurant so they're sitting where everyone can see them. He talks of soccer and basketball and lacrosse and tennis and some pranks he and his buddies have pulled in the past and how awesome it is that girls are allowed at PCA now because there's finally something for the guys to look at.
It takes him until their sushi arrives to actually ask Zoey a question about herself, the 100-watt smile in place. As she's telling him which classes she's taking, she rests one of her hands on the table. He boldly puts his own over hers seconds after the action takes place, nodding along to what she's saying, though she falters slightly at the contact and is so flustered and surprised she can't proceed. He fills the silence for her, telling her his baseball statistics.
As they walk back to her dorm room later, he makes a big show about putting his arm around her shoulders. Everyone is out on Friday nights, and this one is no different; people gawk at the newest PCA couple as they make their way through campus. He nods and shouts some what's up?s to his friends when they pass by them. When they get to room 101 of Brenner Hall, he stares at her for a long time and Zoey wonders how long the appropriate time is for them to be standing there before she can go into her dorm room. He leans down and kisses her lightly on the lips, and when he pulls back the smile is there, the melting one, and Zoey feels a tiny flutter in her stomach even though she's just been on a pretty bad date by anyone's standards. As she's opening the door to her room she notices another boy's sloppy handwriting scribbled across the whiteboard, but she's too confused to consider the message.
The next day he struts by Zoey with a group of his sophomore friends, while Zoey sits under the shade of a tree with her plain-old freshman crew. He makes eye contact with her and the butterflies return in her stomach, so Zoey sends a small grin his way accompanied by a wave, but he keeps going and chatting and laughing as if he didn't even see her. Her companions raise their eyebrows at the exchange but she shrugs it off, though on the inside she's hurt.
She's sitting with a table full of kids she knows from her various classes Monday afternoon when he appears by her side, making the entire group go quiet. His blonde hair isn't as gelled, luckily, and his stunning smile is showering over her. He makes the girl beside Zoey move over on the bench to make room for him as other tables take notice. He flirts with her, while she uncertainly shoots pleasantries back at him, now torn between somersaults in her stomach and annoyance in her mind and heart at his sudden attention. As he gets up to go to baseball practice he kisses her cheek, making sure everyone can see and hear his mouth pull away from her flushed face.
He isn't her boyfriend and she doesn't think she wants him to be.
Tuesday evening she's in the library, attempting to study for a massive English test she has first thing in the morning. She's in one of the sections kids never venture into, the one with books on natural history and rocks and how the earth was formed. Her textbook lies on her lap; there are only a few scattered chairs in this section to use and no tables at all.
Zoey hears someone clear their throat and glances up from the Literature book to see him standing there, leaning against the long shelf of books with his hands casually in his pockets. His hair isn't gelled at all and it looks like he's been running his fingers through it repeatedly. She doesn't want to see him right now, tries telling him that she needs to study, but he's persistent, saying he'll help her, that he's taken this class already. He grabs a stray chair and sets it down right across from her, their knees barely touching when he sits.
She's answering a question about the play Romeo and Juliet when he leans forward and kisses her, halting the words coming from her mouth. At first she figures, what the hell, this is better than studying anyway, but then her mind wanders to this boy kissing her, how this boy's tongue is trying to get into her mouth, how this boy is all wrong, how with her eyes closed she can only picture a totally different boy pressing his lips to hers in an abandoned part of the library where they'd never get caught.
She pushes him away and he's confused, his manipulative smile wiped from his face. He frowns as she explains that she's sorry but she can't do this with him because she doesn't like him like that. He gets angry, his tan face turning red as he wonders what's wrong with him. She asks him why he ignores her one day, then is all over her the next. As he stands he tells her that it's just what he does; he didn't think she cared about stuff like that. He thought she'd be easier than this.
Zoey has never had anyone call her easy before.
She shouts at him, pushes at his chest, and he raises his hands in the air, backing away. How could she be so naïve, to think this attractive, older boy could like her for just being her, and not to just 'get some action'?
She hopes one day she'll find the right guy.
XXX
Second
Zoey is sitting at a lunch table outside doing her homework a week later when he approaches, though it isn't unusual since they are friends. But she's noticed him watching her for a long time, ever since he rode his bike into a pole the first time their eyes ever met, and whenever she's looked his way, he's smiled bashfully and kept his attention on her, even if someone else is talking. He's cute in a subtle fifteen-year-old-funny-man, brown-eyes-bushy-hair kind of way. When he sits down beside her she pushes her algebra textbook and notebook to the side, waiting to hear what he has to say. He's shy and bumbling as he asks her out for Saturday night, but she's hesitant to say yes, though not for more than a second.
This could change their entire relationship, but that could definitely be a good thing.
Saturday night she's ready to go at seven, just like they'd agreed, and she opens her door to leave to go meet him outside the lounge like they'd decided before, but he's standing there in her path, staring at her, his face pink. His smile reaches from ear to ear. They've been avoiding talking about this event all week, and now that it's here it seems unreal.
He wears a nice green button-down with a purple t-shirt peeking out from where he's left a few buttons undone by the collar and a pair of rumpled khakis, his hair wild as usual, and she'd have it no other way. He's holding a rose and offers it to her before any words are exchanged. She accepts it with a gracious smile, and her stomach is in knots from anticipation. He grabs a basket as they exit Brenner Hall and leads her to a quiet, more private area of PCA so no one will be around to put pressure on them. They talk of everyday things, tell funny stories about their friends, and he continuously asks her questions about herself, though they've been friends for two years and they both know a lot about the other by now already.
By the time she declares she's full they've practically cleaned out the entire basket and the sun is nearly gone behind the ocean horizon. As she's telling him about an especially perplexing project she's been doing for science class that's due Monday, she lays her hands out at her sides. She notices him staring at the one closest to him, obviously internally debating whether to reach for it or not, and evidentially he goes with not since they pack up and leave without any physical contact. He has respect for her and she appreciates that.
As they make their way back to her dorm room she suggests getting some ice cream, and his smile at that is toothy and boyish. On their way to the campus ice cream kiosk he casually lets his hand bump against hers a few times as they walk close together side-by-side, until finally his palm rest lightly against hers. She tightens her hold and he takes this as encouragement, lacing their fingers together and keeping their joined hands in between them conspicuously so others won't take notice of this special moment. Saturday nights are a hopping night at PCA, and this one is no different; people who see the two gawk at the newest PCA couple as they make their way through campus, though some nod and grin and whisper I-told-you-they-liked-each-other to their friends. He pays for her scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough in a cone and they meander around the campus, discussing nothing and everything all at once, their chitchat meaningless, and yet so important, at the same time.
When they get to room 101 of Brenner Hall, he stares at her for a long time and Zoey wonders if they're going to kiss or not. She doesn't want this date to end, doesn't want to have to say goodnight and go into her dorm room and get ready for bed and sleep and dream and wake up in the morning as if her life can keep going the same it was before, because after tonight her glasses are certainly going to be rose-tinted.
He leans forward and her eyes flutter, ready to shut completely at the feel of his lips against her own, but instead she feels his breath at the corner of her mouth and he kisses her lightly in that spot, more cheek than mouth, and for a second after Zoey isn't sure if it actually happened or not. But he's looking at her with that broad, cautious smile and she has to return it before they say their goodbyes as her stomach twists and turns in a very good way, because she's just been on the best date ever by anyone's standards. As she's opening the door to her room, she notices another boy's neat handwriting printed across the whiteboard, and seeing the name at the end of the note, she erases it hastily so she can get back to thinking.
On Monday he passes by Zoey with a few of his classmates from his creative writing class, while Zoey sits with three girls from her science class. He makes eye contact with her and butterflies return full-force in her stomach, more like bats now, and Zoey sends a soft smile his way accompanied by a wave. His grin is brilliant as he leaves his friends to go say hi to her, the three other girls watching with interest. His eyes are bright as he explains he's got to get to class, but that he saw her and wanted to say hi in case he didn't get a chance to later on.
She finds that so considerate, so thoughtful, so him, because they're best friends so of course they're going to see each other at some point during the day, but it's the thought that counts.
As he leaves he goes to pat her on the arm, but lets his hand rest there for an extra minute, his eyes on her. Her blue eyes rest on his brown eyes, wondering if now he's going to kiss her, but no, not in front of all of these people, and he gets up and walks away, looking back once or twice before disappearing.
He isn't her boyfriend but she thinks she wants him to be.
The same night she's back in the library, studying once again, but this time it's for a big history test that counts for one-third of her grade. She's looking up the specific dates of the battles during the Revolutionary War on one of the desktop computers when she hears someone clear their throat, and she glances up to see him standing in front of her, his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. He rubs the back of his neck and when she greets him, his smile that appears is infectious. His hair is as unruly as ever, a dark mass of curls untouched by any gels or mousses. He asks if this is a bad time, that he'll come back later, but she insists he stay and help her study, quiz her on the material. He goes around the desk and grabs an unused rolling chair, positioning it beside her. When they both swivel to face each other, their knees are brushing and her legs feel warmer than usual.
He throws a question out to her about the Boston Tea Party, and when she's done answering she just stares at him, her lips twitching. He doesn't promptly inquire anything else about history like he had done the past eight times; instead his eyes are staring right back at her, really looking at her. Finally she becomes self-conscious and jokingly asks what's so interesting about her, but he just replies by telling her she's very pretty in his nervous, yet honest, way. Zoey is taken aback by this unexpected compliment, and by now her mind is screaming for him to just kiss her already. They've had two years of build-up, isn't that enough?
As if he read her mind and doesn't want to disappoint her, he leans in carefully, unsure, but she's shouting thank God! in her head and she closes the gap between their lips. At first she's so caught up in the moment she forgets where she is, forgets she's in a very public place, surrounded by other kids trying to study and read and research and an extremely strict librarian who does not allow any sort of kissing to go on in the building. And when it all finally dawns on her, she figures, what the hell, and deepens the kiss, placing her hands on the top of his thighs so she can lean even closer to him. Her mind wanders to this boy that's kissing her, how this boy's tongue is skirting along her bottom lip, how this boy is so right, how with her eyes closed all she can see is him.
Zoey could get used to stealing kisses in public places with him.
There's another sound of someone clearing their throat just as he's practically pulling Zoey into his lap, and they break apart quickly and turn to see the mean librarian staring at them disapprovingly, hands on her non-existent hips. As she begins railing at them for breaking library rules, Zoey grabs her things and they get up and rush out, the old woman following them the whole way to the door, yelling about proper etiquette in an old-fashioned way. The two teens get outside and laugh, falling against each other.
When their chuckles subside they're left with silence, but it's comfortable and his smile is easy, calm, like the weight of the world has been lifted off of his shoulders and he's ready for a good stretch. They say nothing, and silently agree to head in the direction of Zoey's dorm. She adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder and he takes her hand in his in a familiar way, even though it's only the second time.
They get to outside room 101 and, for the millionth time this week, just stare at each other, the entire moment similar to after their date, but this time he wastes almost no time in bending forward and tilting his head to kiss her, and she willingly lets him. She wraps her arms around his neck and thinks back to the library just before, how great a kisser he is, how lucky she is that her cute, sweet best friend could like her, really like her, for just being her.
Five, fifteen, forty-five, (she's lost count, she doesn't know), minutes later, Zoey enters her dorm room. Her roommates are both sitting on the couch, one mid-story as the other listens with rapt attention. They look at Zoey and all her shopping-obsessed friend can say accusingly is your lips are swollen, and all her actress-friend can say coyly is and your hair is all over the place, and then they both say with identical grins you totally just made out with someone.
Zoey touches her swollen lips and combs her fingers through her all-over-the-place hair and doesn't deny their accusation, only smiles secretively. And all her two friends say happily to that is finally! You and Chase!
She thinks she's found the right guy.
XXX
End.