They were in the practice room on a Tuesday. Natalie was frantically playing some raging sonata, her eyebrows crunched together in concentration. Henry simply watched her play in a seat nearby, pretending to be doing his physics homework.

"Nat?" he asked tentatively, not wanting to interrupt or annoy her.

Without breaking focus, her fingers still moving diligently, she replied, "Yes?"

"Do you want to go out with me?"

"We've been dating for three months, Henry."

"But we haven't, like," Henry stuttered, getting up from his chair now and moving closer to her, "gone on an actual date. We've hung out at my place and stuff and I mean I guess I had dinner at your house that one time—"

She finally stopped playing and looked up at him, eyes cold. "We don't have to talk about that."

He raised his hands as a peace offering and motioned for her to scoot over. She made room on the piano bench for him. "Anyway, my point is…I want to take you out. To dinner or the movies or something. Something cheesy. I want to hold your hand on the way to my car and show the entire world that I'm dating Natalie Goodman."

She looked mildly disgusted. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Gee, Nat," he said dryly, rolling his eyes. "So kill me, I'm a hopeless romantic."

Shrugging at returning to her playing, she retorted, "I might have to."

"Naaaaat," he whined like a child, pulling her hands away from the keys. She turned to him, a look of outrage plaguing her eyes. "I'm not letting go until you say yes."

"Henry," she groaned, looking extremely uncomfortable and pressured. "It's so…sappy. You're so sappy."

"Please?" Henry begged, jutting out his lower lip. Natalie's fierceness wavered, he could tell. He blinked overdramatically a few times. "I'll get you mint chocolate chip ice cream…your favorite…"

"Fine!" she yelled, pulling her hands away from his and throwing them in the air. "But I'm paying for half the check!"

"Deal," he laughed, kissing her on the cheek. "I'll pick you up tomorrow night at eight."

The next day, Henry arrived at her front door, a small bouquet of flowers in his left hand. He rang the doorbell, bopping back and forth between both feet nervously until Mr. Goodman answered the door.

"Henry!" he proclaimed, smiling politely. He stepped back as Henry crossed over the threshold. "You look…different."

Henry looked down at himself. He was wearing a pair of khakis, a white button up shirt (tucked in!), and he had even put on some cologne. Mr. Goodman seemed to have noticed the latter as well, because his eyebrows shot up as he asked, "Something smells good…"

Henry's hand nervously flew to his hair, and Natalie came bolting down the staircase. "Okay, Dad, we'll be back later," she said hurriedly, grabbing her coat and ushering Henry back outside.

"Okay, have fun!" Dan called quickly before Natalie shut the door in his face.

She turned to Henry once they were on the front doorstep, and he observed her under the porch light as she slipped on her jacket.

"Your hair," he commented, taking a few strands between his fingers. Her normally ferociously curly locks were pin-straight. "It's all…weird."

"Thanks?" she sighed in frustration, glaring at him a little bit. She was also wearing mascara, he noticed. "Is this how you start off all your dates? With insults?"

"But you look beautiful," he compensated, taking her hand and kissing it lightly. She blushed. "As always."

"Let's go, wise guy," she sighed.

Henry happily sang along to the radio as they drove, driving diligently in an effort to impress Natalie. She awkwardly sat on her hands so she wouldn't start biting at her nails.

"You don't have to look so painfully uncomfortable," he snickered, glancing over at her once they reached a red light. "It's just me. Don't be so stressed out!"

"I know, I know," she admitted, exhaling loudly. "But I feel like I have to be all formal or something. Like I should be wearing a skirt and pink lipstick and I should giggle and act all cute and girly. And you got me flowers."

"I did," he nodded, smirking.

"Thanks."

"Anything for my girl."

Natalie turned and looked out the window so he wouldn't see her smile.

Once they got to the restaurant, a little Italian place on Main Street that Natalie had never been in before, Henry waltzed up to the hostess and cockily said, "A table for two, please. For me and my girlfriend."

Natalie looked at the ground, wanting to die a little bit. He was totally milking this to annoy her. "My girlfriend and I," she corrected, not knowing what else to say.

"Right this way," the hostess giggled, and they were soon sitting at a small table by the window, looking out and the street. "Have a nice dinner."

"Alright," Henry said, picking up his menu. "How about we order for each other?"

"No!" Natalie protested, shaking her head. "You'll order me something I hate."

The waiter came up then, and Henry slammed his menu shut, proclaiming they were ready to order their meals. Ignoring Natalie completely, Henry giddily said, "She'll the steak, please."

He then looked at her expectantly, trying not to laugh. Agitated, she looked at the waiter and said, "I guess he'll have the spaghetti."

The waiter nodded, looking unhappy with his job, and walked away. Natalie looked at Henry, and dryly said, "No goodnight kiss for you tonight, asshat."

"Oh, Natalie," he sighed. "You wouldn't."

"I would." And just to torture him, she slipped off her right shoe and ran her foot up and down his leg. She then crawled her fingers up his arm that was sitting across the table.

"I hate you," he hissed, but didn't push her away.

She smugly replied, "Back at you."

Their food arrived shortly, and after thanking the waiter, Natalie stared at her plate warily.

"What's wrong?" Henry asked, concerned; she looked like she was going to become ill.

"I'm a vegetarian," she muttered quietly. "Meat grosses me out."

"You never told me that!"

"You never asked!"

"See?!" Henry said, eyes wide. "This is why we go on dates! So that I can learn these very important things about you before I order your dinner. And before you order mine…I hate pasta."

"What?" Natalie spluttered. "How the hell do you hate pasta?"

"How the hell do you hate meat?" Henry retorted.

They looked at each other for a moment before wordlessly swapping their plates and beginning to eat. Henry watched as Natalie twirled her spaghetti around her fork, looking uncharacteristically calm. She usually always looked stressed and frantic, constantly worrying about something or other.

He chuckled. "How many Red Bulls did you have today?"

"Just one, with breakfast," she replied, and she knew he could sense the tranquility she felt. As awkward as this was, being on an actual date, she felt good. She was with Henry, which was all she realized mattered. She always felt better with him around.

Not that she'd admit that.

There were certain things she couldn't bring herself to tell Henry: her dead brother's name, the fact that she actually was having a hard time in Trigonometry, the fact she cared about him more than she felt comfortable with. It frightened her, slightly, but she never let it show. She figured it was her best way to go about the relationship, nonchalantly. He'd said he loved her multiple times, but she'd always shrugged it off out of fear.

Just like Henry had promised, they split the check and made their way back to his car holding hands. "You still don't get a goodnight kiss," Natalie said smartly. "I don't care how good that spaghetti was."

"Yes, I will," Henry laughed, halting and turning to her. He put his forehead against hers and smiled his goofy smirk.

"Oh?"

"Yep. Because I know you secretly had fun."

Not that I'd ever tell you, she thought to herself, simply staring at him.

"I love you," he said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Not that I expect you to say it back or anything."

She simply brought her lips to his briefly. There were some things that went better left unsaid.