Oliver choked on his egg roll. "What?"
I smiled sweetly as I held onto his arm. "Now, Mikey, you know what happens when you eat egg rolls – it makes the smell worse." I took the item in question out of his hand, then sniffed his shoulder. "Oh! You're wearing that new cologne I bought you. Didn't I tell you it would help with the odor problem?"
"Odor problem?" Oliver sniffed his armpit just to make sure I was lying. "Okay…what's going on?"
"I was just telling Sammy here what a great boyfriend you are." My eyes were wide, begging him to play along. "He's a Hannah fan. A really big fan. Really big. And he quotes Shakespeare. A lot."
"But I'm not your –"
"Yes, yes, I know I said to keep it a secret from the press, but Sammy's just an innocent fan. Innocent and a little," I leaned toward Oliver, "obsessive. So it's okay, you can tell him we're dating. Please. Tell him."
Sammy was watching us skeptically, and Oliver looked very confused. I gritted my teeth. "Sammy, would you excuse us for a minute? The egg rolls always do this to him."
I dragged Oliver over to an unoccupied table and pushed him into a seat. "What is wrong with you? I'm trying to get rid of the guy and you're not helping at all!"
"Well, how was I supposed to know that? "
"I gave you hints. Lots of hints. How did you not understand the hints?" Moaning, I plopped down next to him. "You have to pretend to be my boyfriend. Just for tonight, please? Otherwise he'll never leave me alone."
Oliver grunted. "Are you trying to tell me he's not your type? You know, tall, blonde, and famous?" He grabbed the egg roll from my hand and took another bite. "Oh, I see what's going on here. What you're really trying to do is make him jealous. Because he already has a girlfriend. Am I right?"
"No!" I groaned. "I swear, I don't like him at all. Not any more. I mean, one minute he was the man of my dreams, then the next he was Sammy, namesake of a prize-winning cow, star of a play called 'Romeo: The Later Years.' Then he went and professed his undying love for me! In tears! He's incapable of speaking anything unrelated to Shakespeare, and you know how much I hate Shakespeare! Really, Oliver, I need your help!"
Okay – either Oliver was laughing at me, or he had just noticed that the Aqua Zone band was blowing bubbles into a fish tank.
"Oliver, please, it isn't funny!"
"It is a little," he chuckled.
"Oliver!" I banged my head against the table in frustration.
"Okay, okay." He brushed my hair out of the way. "But first, if you call me Oliver out in public like this one more time, you're gonna have worse problems than Sammy. And second, I do not have a body odor problem." He looked down sheepishly. "That was taken care of in the third grade."
I sat up happily. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you." I threw my arms around his neck.
"Yeah, well, just for tonight. I've got a reputation to keep."
"A reputation?"
"Everyone knows Mike Standley the Third is popular with the ladies. He doesn't have girlfriends."
I rolled my eyes. "The only reputation you have around here is for stuffing your face with food. Now come on, let's go convince Sammy we're a couple."
Sammy was wringing his hands anxiously when we returned. He gave Oliver a once over, then squared his shoulders as if to prove he was taller. "I can see that you're having problems already." He turned to me and put a hand on my arm. "That doesn't bode well for a long-term relationship. You should reconsider. I have a much more agreeable disposition. And I get free tickets to glow-in-the-dark putt putt."
"Watch your hand there, Sammy." Oliver disentangled him from my arm. "This isn't a petting zoo."
"See, that's exactly what I'm talking about," Sammy said. "He's jealous and overbearing. I would never presume to speak for you without your direct permission."
"Actually, I think it's sweet." I snuggled against Oliver. "He takes such good care of me."
Sammy frowned.
"And he gets free tickets to all the hottest concerts in Malibu."
Sammy's frown deepened.
Oliver shrugged and played with my hair.
"I bet he can't quote Shakespeare, though," Sammy said triumphantly.
"So what?" I tossed back. "He can do one heck of a fruit fly impression."
Oliver nodded. "It's true. It takes a lot of skill to get the fruit at just the right angle. Otherwise the fruit fly will look a little bug-eyed and –"
I clamped my hand over Oliver's mouth. "Not now, honey."
Sammy couldn't figure us out, and it was driving him crazy. I noticed that his foot was tapping impatiently. "You seemed impressed with my flowery words earlier, Hannah. I wonder what Mike would say if I told him you were making eyes at me while we were dancing."
Dang, the boy was smarter than I'd thought. "You must've misunderstood me. I have naturally long lashes and I blink a lot. It's genetic."
"You mean like your pore problem?"
"Pore problem?" Oliver raised an eyebrow. "She doesn't have –" I pinched his arm, and he yelped. "Oh! That problem. Right. It's terrible. She smells awful."
Sammy's brow wrinkled as he looked back and forth between us.
"Well, the chit-chat's been nice," I said quickly, "but Mike's here now and I've been dying to dance with him all night. So if you'll excuse us." I took Oliver's hand and dragged him toward the dance floor.
"'I defy you, stars!'" Sammy called after us. "I'm gonna prove to you that you belong with me, Hannah. No matter what it takes!"
"Try some of the banana pudding over on table four," Oliver answered back. "It'll help with the indigestion."
Sammy stomped his foot in frustration.
I laughed. "Mike, that was so mean…I love it!"
We weaved between two couples, looking for an open spot on the floor.
"Do we really have to dance?" Oliver asked, looking longingly back at his egg roll.
"Of course. Sammy's watching us."
"I know, but I'm starving. My mom made stuffed peppers for dinner and I fed mine to Bruno."
"Stop complaining. This is more important."
"Than my growling stomach?"
"Geez, is it really that bad to have to dance with me?"
He stopped and looked down at me. It was an odd look, one I didn't think I'd seen before. He spoke softly: "I guess not."
"Good." I put his hands on my waist, then rested mine on his shoulders.
We danced silently. I wasn't sure if we were tired, or if the music was lame, or if we'd just never danced before, but whatever it was, it was awkward.
"Why are we in an aquarium?" Oliver blurted out.
It took me a moment to find my tongue. "I don't know. Maybe 'cause it's a Save-The-Whales charity event?"
"But whales technically aren't fish. And if you look around, there's not a whale in sight."
"Since when are you smart and observant?"
Oliver shrugged. "Maybe I think clearer on an empty stomach." He emphasized the last part, as if to remind me that he was hungry.
I ignored the vibe. "Are you suggesting the charity isn't legit?"
"No. I'm just saying the goldfish aren't working for me. And –" his eyes widened, "are they blowing bubbles into a fish tank?"
I laughed.
"Hey, Hannah!" Lilly came twirling up beside us with a dishy Spanish dude on her arm. "Look who I bumped into."
Okay, so she had run off with another Mr. Hottie. But strangely enough, I wasn't jealous anymore.
"What happened to punch-bowl guy?" Lilly asked. I thought it odd that she barely blinked twice at the sight of me and Oliver dancing together. Shouldn't she have at least noticed?
"He turned out to be an obsessed fan," I explained. "But Mike here is helping me diffuse the problem."
"Ooooh," Lilly said knowingly. "You told him Mike was your boyfriend, right? Good plan. I hope it works. Gotta go! Lupe is giving me a tour of the aquarium."
Like a whirlwind, she and Lupe were gone.
"That was odd," I murmured under my breath.
"I'm thinking if they at least had a picture of a whale," Oliver said, "I could handle the goldfish."
"Oh, get over it. You're doing a lousy job of being my boyfriend. You're supposed to smile at me and say nice things."
He looked down at me with a half-hearted scowl. "You're asking a lot. What am I getting out of this?"
"The satisfaction of helping a friend?"
He pondered my suggestion. "Well…"
"If you do this for me, I'll buy you a whole platter of salmon rolls. And spread rumors about what a great kisser you are."
His eyes lit up. "Done."
We were in the middle of our third song, and making respectable progress in our 'relationship,' when suddenly Sammy interrupted and threw himself at my feet.
"I remembered!" he cried, grabbing onto my shoes. "'It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear.'"
"Dude, get off my girlfriend." Oliver picked him up. He set him down a couple feet away and got a whiff of his breath. "Did you eat my egg roll?"
"Um…was that yours?" Sammy asked nervously.
Oliver glanced back at the table. Sure enough, his egg roll was missing. He grabbed Sammy by the shoulders and shook him. "No one messes with my egg rolls. You hear that? No one!"
I cleared my throat.
"And no one messes with my girl, either. So back off, Romeo!"
I smiled proudly. Yup, that was my Oliver. Wait, my Oliver?
Sammy was trembling, but he didn't back down. "'Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, that sees into the bottom of my grief?' Oh Hannah, why can't you give me a chance? This guy here is all wrong for you. He looks at his egg roll with more longing. I can tell you don't even love each other. You deserve to be with one who will adore you. Just tonight, Hannah. Give me one night, and –"
Oliver pushed Sammy aside, took me into his arms, and kissed me.
And that was when it happened.