By the time, I get to school I have already convinced myself that I had hallucinated what happened last night. Lack of sleep can induce delusions such as Jack calling me. Besides, he would never ask me to have lunch with him. It is the high school's unwritten rule that you're only as cool as who you hang out with at lunch. That's why I don't even think of telling Emma.
"Recovered?" She appears energised from the trip to the mall. I seriously think I may have a problem; all that shopping does to me is leave me worse for wear.
"Almost," I concede. "This time was much better than the last."
A sign of relief leaves her body. "I'm glad. I'm sorry, I know you hate the mall." Clearly, my issue. Then, her smile widens in pride. "Guess who got appointments for Gisela's?"
What?! "You didn't!" Saying that I am surprised is an understatement. "How?"
Even more satisfaction for her accomplishment graces her features, as she tells me. "Well, let's just say I have Vitamin C."
I pretend to know what she means.
"We are scheduled for five, this time I'll take my car."
"Alright," I consent, all the while wondering how she managed to arrange it after our draining outing to the mall.
We decide to buy sandwiches again, though today's is really unappetising – turkey and mayonnaise. No salad this time.
Countless pointed stares prickle my skin, as we make our way to the counter. Less people are glancing my way.
My relief is short-lived, as of a sudden Jack approaches me. "Forgot we have a date?" He assumes from my clueless expression.
Then, it hits me. I turn to the only reaction I know when it comes to him: sassiness. "Forgot? I rather hoped."
His laugh rings short and he trains his gaze on Emma. "Do you mind if I steal her for today?"
"It's okay," she smiles at him. "Have fun." She dismissively nods at us, while her eyes track mine, questioning and demanding.
I will, I promise.
Satisfied, she leaves us and I instantly feel sorry.
"You really forgot?" He wanted to know.
Sheepishly, I confess. "I was really tired yesterday, I thought I had dreamt it or something."
He draws a mocking smile. "So now you dream of me? I might not be so rusty after all."
Sighing, I question him with a slight accusatory undertone. "Really, Jack? That's all you think about?"
Grabbing my elbow and urging me in the direction of the food, he whispers in my ear. "When it comes to you, that's all that goes through my mind."
Blushing, I feel tempted to punch his arm. "You're incorrigible."
"Your vocabulary is extensive," he jests. To my critical look, he simply tells me. "I thought we were pointing out the obvious."
By now, we are already in front of the counter and he grabs two trays.
"What do you want to eat?" He asks me.
"Oh, I didn't even check the menu," I declare.
"Well, we have meatball pasta and some dubious looking potato mash that should go with fish."
I pretend to think. "The way you put it doesn't give me much choice. Pasta, then."
Taking two plates from the serving lady, we continue slowly down the line.
"Beverage?"
"Water."
We reach the cashier and I fumble with my backpack. Before I'm able to get the money out, he has already paid.
I don't even think of teasing him, so surprised I am that he literally got food for me. With the trays in our hands, we look for a place to sit. More like he is choosing a table for us and I am following him. Is this really happening?
Some of his friends wave at him, calling him to join them, but he just shakes his head. I notice that Drew isn't part of the waving, but is smiling at us, genuinely happy. Somehow that puts me off track, my heart hesitating. His grins are always so expressive and true; he truly is full of joy. But I wonder why.
I glance briefly at my present company and let him lead me to an empty table.
"Jack," I start, not really knowing what I want to say, as we sit down. Then, I blurt out the last thing I thought I would. "Why did you ask me to prom?"
Sighing, he states. "You do get straight to the point." He lets out a small chuckle, pondering about it. "You don't even let a guy woo you with his gentlemanly behaviour and ease his way to the nature of our relationship."
Stifling a laugh, I tell him. "Quite a way to put it. Who knew the star quarterback could say more than a chaotic assortment of letters and numbers?"
He shrugs. "In my defence and of the whole sport's, it's not a chaotic assortment, but defined codes."
"Sure," I half-heartedly joke.
The green of his irises is earnest, the grey dimming at the rims, when he tells me. "I just want to get to know you. Take you on dates. Call you my girlfriend."
I am astonished to say the least, there is a huge blank where my thoughts should be. "Jack."
"Give me a chance," he pleads, his gaze intensive. His body language expresses tension; he is eager to know my answer.
His tousled dirty blond hair is carefully swept away from his face, lips of an unnatural definition and promising, as well. There is a wit when we tease each other that I grew to love in the last couple of weeks. I wonder if I'm ready. Not even a heartbeat ago, my chest was heaving due to Drew. Always due to Drew.
I've never known any other, never had eyes for any other. I don't know how to look at any other.
But all I know is that I want to get to know him.
"I said yes, didn't I?" I remind him, in a way of a reply.
A smile lights up his face, a stretch so delighted that something in me feels warm. It tempts me to grin back, a first real one since Drew's confession.
"You did, you did," he repeats in wonder, still not losing the beam. "I'm so happy you did. I can't wait, I just...," he clears his throat in attempt to calm down. "Well, let's play twenty questions. You begin."
"We should probably eat," I voice out, but truth be told I am already thinking about what I want to know. Preparing my first bite, I ask of him. "Tell me about your family."
"That's not a question," he chuckles, the fork half-way to his mouth. "You're not very good at this, are you?"
I snort, "I thought the purpose of the game is to get to know another."
After swallowing, he questions, amused. "So to hell the rules?"
As a response, I just shrug.
"All right," a chuckle reverberates with his words. "My mum's a writer and dad owns the hardware store. I have an older brother, who is in his last year of college. And there's Lucky, our crazy Labrador."
It is with ease that he tells me about them, tenderness evident in his words. It is unusual to share so carefree the feelings for one's family. Especially if they're feelings of love.
"What about yours?"
"There's just Mum, Marie and me. Mum's an artist and Marie is now eight."
Pressing his lips together, he seems brooding. "What about your dad?"
"He's dead," my words come out without a trace of emotion. He wasn't around much, so I don't remember him well. How can you grieve for someone you hardly know?
With awkwardness, he tells me. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright," it really is.
He clears his throat. "What about your grandparents?"
Cocking my eyebrow up, I tease him. "I thought the whole twenty questions thing meant that you ask each other in turn. That's your third question in a row."
His chuckle is short. "You're the one that ignored the rules in the first place."
"So that gives you permission to do as well?" I attempt to look sceptical.
"Well, it wouldn't be fair if you were allowed to break them and I weren't," is his serious reply.
With a cynical smile, I ask him. "Who told you, life is fair?"
This time he really laughs. "You're something, Mara. You really are."
I don't know if it's meant as a compliment or not, but I can't make myself ask him.
We eat a while in silence, my eyes glued to my plate. Sincerely, I have little appetite.
"You still haven't answered my question."
"Well, that's because it's your turn to answer." I tell him. "Honest opinion on football?"
He is amused. "This might seem shocking, but I really like it. The teamwork, the physicality of it. The harder you work the better you get at it and it's so fulfilling."
Wonder pools into me. He is so honest with himself, so open about what he thinks and feels. It makes him even more endearing. Wait, endearing?
When did it begin? When have I started to think of him that way?
As I look into his green eyes, the colour of the pastures and treetops, of natural life brewing and growing, of secrets of a deep forest whirling, I am again aware that everything has changed.
