She accepts the date on a whim, figuring that he looks clean enough and if he can be in her advanced geophysics class he must have at least some sort of a brain.

Besides, he's cute, and a date with a cute boy is always a good thing.

.

.

It takes her a total of 20 minutes to second guess herself on that statement.

.

.

The minute she steps out of his sleek black car and onto the sidewalk of the campus's busiest frat house, the whiff of something that's decidedly not cigarette smoke tells her that this isn't the sort of party she belongs at.

Turning to the apparent loser next to her with a combination disgust and disbelief—he was in her advanced geophysics class!—she firmly requests a ride home.

And he promptly refuses.

"Look, if I'd known you were such a square, I never would have asked you out in the first place. Sorry it didn't work out."

She watches in utter amazement, wishing for once in her life that she lived in the days Jane dreams of when guys at least had to pay for your cab fare after a failed date, as he walks up the steps and into the party without a glance back.

.

.

Glaring at the icy sidewalk and her not-so-practical heels, and facing the prospect of a 5 mile walk back home, she can only come to one conclusion.

This evening is not going as planned.

.

.

She has three numbers in her favorites list on her phone: her Dad, the UFO hotline, and Jeffrey. And seeing as she has no desire to explain her current situation to either of the first two, Jeffrey it is.

She vaguely remembers him saying he has a date that evening. Hopefully he won't mind playing taxi for 20 minutes.

.

.

When he pulls up 15 minutes later, rescuing her from the lonely fate of freezing to death in down-town Boston, he's alone.

It takes her 10 seconds flat to find out why.

.

.

It's entirely possible that Jeffrey and she are the only two people in town who aren't willing to do outrageous things at parties.

.

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Both having suddenly found themselves dateless and dinnerless, a stop at the local pizza place seems warranted. Or rather, it does until they walk through the doors.

Apparently it's 50s night, and the tables are pushed into a corner, making room for the dozen couples swing dancing in the middle of the room.

Flashbacks of a very different dance floor and a very different type of music flash through Skye's head as Jeffrey grins at her wickedly and asks her to dance.

"Are you out of your mind, Jeffrey? We've tried this before, remember? You'd still better find a different partner."

.

.

But in the end, he wears her down, and there she is, trying to wrap her mind around a three beat step pattern and something called a "turn."

.

.

It takes half the night and multiple protests on her part, but he's persistent that even she can learn, and—eventually—she proves him right.

.

.

When they finally sit down to catch their breaths and eat, she can't help but mirror the silly grin he's giving her.

"I can't believe you got me to do that," is the first thing out of her mouth. "No one's ever gotten me to dance before!"

"What can I say? I'm special…" But something in his eyes shows that he wants to say more. "Skye, you should do this sort of thing more often."

Now she's wary… "What sort of thing? Because if you're trying to talk me into dance class or something, you might as well not even try. That's never going to happen!"

He smiles, ruefully. "I meant, you should try to loosen up more on dates. Do something more fun than sitting in the library studying together." He seems to mull over his words, before making a hasty amendment. "Not that this is date."

She can't help but smirk a little. "Isn't it?"

"Well, no. I mean, that would be awkward…"

"Would it?"

"Wouldn't it?"

"I don't think so."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

He looks at her in disbelief. "Are you telling me that if I kissed you right now it wouldn't be awkward?"

"Try it." She has her eyebrows raised, and she looking at him like she just challenged him to arm wrestle.

"Seriously?"

"Well, yeah. We'll never know otherwise…"

"Are you asking me to kiss you?!"

"I'm telling you to."

"Skye!" He sounds slightly scandalized.

"Well?"

"Um…"

And then's she done. He's taken too long, and she doesn't like stalling.

She's leaning across the booth, grabbing his shirt, and pulling him in for a long, sound kiss.

When she finally releases him, he just sits there, staring at her with wide eyes. And she stares right back at him, daring him to say something, anything.

And when he finally does, she can't help but smile.

"Can we do that again?"

.

.

And so, in the end, she's right: a date with a cute boy is always a good thing.


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