Chapter 3

"You're not coming tomorrow," she says, buckling her seatbelt.

"Yes I am!" I can't leave her alone with Jeff the gym guy. Not only is he far too attractive to be a real man, what if he says something like, 'so what's up with you and that Josh guy? Are you an item?' Then what? And speaking of that, I've got to come up with a way to make her change gyms. Great, another addition to the sub-plan to protect the plan.

"No you're not," she says stressing the word no.

"Why?" I ask as though I can't think of a single reason she wouldn't want me to come. I have to go. The sub-plan depends on it.

"Why? Why?" She gets louder each time she says that. "You were a maniac today."

"I was polite. You told me I had to be polite, so I was. I didn't call him Jeff the gym guy once. Not once Donna." If she's going to point out my faults, I'm certainly going to point out my attributes. And let me tell you, that wasn't easy. I almost slipped several times. You might not know this about me, but I don't like to refer to men in Donna's life by their names. I prefer to come up with my own nicknames for them.

"You were…." She drifts off.

"Wonderful? Helpful? Entertaining? Charming?"

"No, none of those things." She thinks for a minute. "You were... well, I can't quite pinpoint it, but it was weird."

"Well, if you can't pinpoint it, then I get to come tomorrow," I say matter-of-factly.

She glares at me. "Don't you have work to do tomorrow?"

"On a Saturday?" I ask as thought the concept is unheard of.

She rolls her eyes. "I'm sorry, what made me think you, Josh Lyman, would ever work on a Saturday? I must be on some sort of hallucinogenic drug."

"You must be," I say with a smirk.

"The same one you were on all afternoon," she mumbles. She's deep in thought at this point, still trying to define my behavior. This is fun, I've actually stumped the one Donnatella Moss. She can't say I was rude. I wasn't. And she can't say I was jealous, I was too nice to him. And she can't say I was pretending to be… with her, because I never actually did or said anything obvious. And even if that's what she thinks, she'd never say it. She'd never acknowledge the elephant. And she certainly can't say I was sabotaging the afternoon, I acted helpful. It was a ruse of course, but still. I was, to put it simply, perfectly sneaky.

"How 'bout this? Since we didn't find the perfect place…"

She cuts me off. "We?"

Uh oh. "For you. Since we didn't find the perfect place for you, let's forget Marcel's, order a pizza and rent a non-girly movie." Obviously, we're not going to Marcel's. I only made those reservations because Jeff the gym guy was within earshot and I wanted to look like an amazing boyfriend without actually coming out and saying I was. Because I'm not. Not yet. But I will be. Both a boyfriend and amazing.

"Gee, first I didn't find the perfect place, now my dinner plans just went from a two-hundred dollar delicacy to a ten dollar pizza," she says with a small pout. It's cute. Not cute enough for Marcel's, but cute.

"Marcel's is for the celebration dinner." Yeah, I'm still pretty amazed that I came up with that one on my own.

Now she smiles at me. "Fine, but when we," and she stresses the word we, "find the perfect place, I'm getting one of their fabulous deserts too."

I nod. "Understood." Since I don't plan on letting her buy a house, I'm not too concerned with that promise. "And since I'm so wonderful, I'll even buy the pizza."

Now she looks at me like I've lost my mind and gets her cell phone out of her purse. "Duh. And I'm picking the movie."

"No mushrooms," I whisper once I've cancelled the reservations at Marcel's.

She covers the receiver with her hand. "Are you willing to admit to strange behavior today?"

"Are you holding pizza over my head," I whisper harshly. She nods at me.

Ok, important decision to make while the pizza guy sits on hold. Do I cop to acting a bit odd today and get edible pizza, or do I play dumb and pick off the mushrooms. Because I'm telling you, I hate mushrooms. Hate. I mean hate.

"I was helpful. I told you about the water damage." She wouldn't really get mushrooms just to punish me. She's a wonderful person.

"Can we get extra mushrooms please?" She's an evil, evil person.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

We're eating disgusting pizza, sharing one beer because she won't let me have my own, watching a movie that Donna claimed I would like because it's about professional tennis and therefore not romantic and girly. Wrong. Romantic. Girly. It's like we're already married, but without the sex.

Yet still, I'm having a great time. I mean, not as good of a time as I'd have if we were having sex. Let's be realistic. But still, here it is, nine o'clock on a Friday night and I'm lying on the couch with Donna watching, let's not sugar coat it, a girly romantic comedy, and I couldn't be happier. And this is precicely why I have the sub-plan to protect the plan.

It's just, sometimes I wonder when this is the guy I became. When hanging out with Donna became more entertaining to me than schmoozing at some political fundraiser. When sweats and gross pizza became more appealing than tuxedos and power talks. When a night not being seen became better than a night being seen.

I look down at the other end of the couch where Donna is. We have a system. A system that I'm sure Toby and Ginger don't have. A system Leo and Margaret would be appauled at the suggestion of. When we watch movies, we lay on her couch, on our sides, at opposite ends. I keep my body to the back, hers to the front. Occasionally, like right now, she shifts and her top leg moves to the top of my legs. Then, eventually, our legs are entertwined like pretzels. It's one of the many things we do without examining it too closely.

So I look down at her and see that she's completely engrossed in this girly movie. Two weeks ago, we rented Master and Commander, and this same guy was in it. In fact, I remember that Donna didn't want to get that movie because she thinks Russell Crowe is, to quote her, stocky and bulky with an abnormally low voice. I wanted to get it because it looked awesome, so I began prodding her with it. Finally, she took the box and looked at the back. Not long enough to read it, she just looked at it and then said ok. Now, looking back, I'm wondering if she got that movie, and tonight this movie, for this guy.

"Hey, who is that guy anyway?"

"Paul Bettany." Ah hah. Why does she know that? He's no Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt. I mean, maybe in England, but certainly not here in the US

"Wasn't he in Master and Commander too?"

"Yes," she says distractedly.

"Donna?"

She sighs and hits pause, then looks over at me like I'm interrupting Schindler's List or something. "What?"

"Do you have a crush on blonde British guy there?"

"Yes Josh. I have a crush on a man I've never met. I'm going to run off to England tomorrow and stalk him until I either get arrested or he agrees to marry me. Then we're going to have very blonde, very pale children."

"So yes. You do."

She looks down at the floor in shame and hesitantly nods. "A little, yeah."

I just laugh at her. "You're such a girl." I mean really, he's a celebrity. I'm not worried about him. I will start randomly searching the web to make sure I know in advance if he ever films a movie here in town, but for the most part I'm not worried. I mean, I've got my Meg Ryan thing. It's ok if she has her blonde British guy thing.

"Hey!" she yells, tossing a pillow at me. "Do we or do we not see every Meg Ryan movie that comes out."

I shrug. "You like those girly movies she's in. I'm just trying to placate you."

"Right," she snorts out. See what I mean? See why I'm protecting the plan?