"Hey, Max."
I looked up from my science textbook (whaddya know, I'd forgotten the biology test too) and turned to face him.
"Yeah, Sam?"
"I was wondering..." he began, blushing furiously. "...if we could like, hang out. Or something? Like, not for school?" He finished, staring at his shoes like they held the secret of the meaning of life. I appraised him.
"Like..." I said, feeling an unwanted blush of my own creep onto my cheeks. "...a date?"
I didn't think it was possible, but his blush deepened. "Sort of?" He blurted out.
I paused, thinking hard. This situation was just...too weird for words. And if just him asking me out was this awkward, I didn't even want to think about what the actual date would be like.
However, there was Ella's threat to think about. I knew that if I didn't get a date, she'd either set me up with somebody, or, even worse, give me another makeover.
But if I went on a date, a makeover was inevitable. So, it was the lesser of two evils, and I'd much prefer Sam to some male chauvinist pig who thought I was 'hot'.
"Y-yes?" I stammered, unsure. But Sam's huge grin almost made me rethink that.
"Great," he said enthusiastically, sighing in relief. "Um, tomorrow at 6? Go to the Shake Shack?"
I nodded, feeling my blush diminish. Oh, dear God, when Ella hears...
ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A LINE. IT WAS USED AS A BREAK IN A STORY, TO REPRESENT THE PASSING OF TIME. THE END.
It was the squeal heard round the world. Honestly, I was pretty sure the neighbors thought Mom was abusing us or something. I didn't even know it was possible to make such a sound.
"Oh. Em. Gee. Your first date!" Insert another eardrum-shattering squeal here. "And I ALWAYS thought you and Sam were perfect for each other. You, like, balance each other out, y'know? And he's seriously cute, too. You need a makeover! Ohmigosh, you are going to look sooooo HOT!"She bounced on her heels, clapping like a little schoolgirl. I rolled my eyes.
"Just get it over with." The second the words left my lips, I was attacked by a big, froofy brush-thing and some pink powdery stuff.
"Here," Ella began, brushing the PPS onto my cheeks with the BFBT. "You need some blush. You're paler than usual." The blush/pink powder tickled. Like, a lot.
Before I could fully register that the BFBT had left my face, I was bombarded by another nameless object. I think I'll call this one stick-of-gloopy-redness.
"And some lipstick. You simply can't go on a date without lipstick." After she had rubbed the the SOGR over my lips, she did an elaborate pantomime to get it across that I had to smack my lips. I complied, not bothering to hide my sniggers. The 'lipstick' was sticky and uncomfortable. I fought the urge to wipe it off.
Out of her pink leather makeup bag, Ella pulled a little black rectangle. When she opened it up, I could see that it had three squares, each with a different color of powdery stuff, and what vaguely resembled a cotton swab. She rubbed the VRCS into the red PS, then onto my eyelid. It tickled even more than the blush.
Next, she got out a shiny black cylinder. I recognized this one.
"No way," I said loudly, eyeing the cylinder like it had some horrible contagious disease. "No mascara. I hate that stuff."
Ella sighed dramatically, replacing the mascara into her bag. "Whatever. I guess that means no eyeliner then, huh?"
I wasn't quite sure what it was, but I had a feeling I wouldn't like it. I shook my head firmly.
Ella let out another exasperated sigh. "On to the clothes, then."
I had a strange sense of deja vu as she shuffled through her closet, this time pulling out a clump of black and white. She didn't stop there, however. Next, she brought out a cherry red leather jacket, something black, and a British flag clutch (Really, Max? Clutch? You wuss). She shoved the jumble of clothes into my hands, ushering me into my room. "Go change!" she demanded, then shut the door in my face.
I collapsed on my bed, suddenly rethinking my decision to agree to Sam's date. After closing my eyes for a moment, I finally got up off my bed and pulled on the clothed.
When I looked up, the first thing I saw was my reflection in the window, and I looked pretty okay. Under the mildly uncomfortable cherry-red leather jacket, I had on a white T-shirt with I LONDON in big black letters, and black skinny jeans. The clutch lay discarded on the bed, but I had put on the black leather bracelet and navy Converse high-tops. Everything fit so perfectly, I had a sneaking suspicion this stuff had been hidden away for this time. Darn you, Ella.
"Are you done?" she called impatiently from outside the door. "I still have to do your hair." With one last parting glance at my reflection in the mirror, I met Ella in the hall.
"Hmm..." she said appraisingly, making me do a twirl. She nodded, seeming to be deciding something. "Curls." she said, then started purposefully into her room, me trailing after.
I plopped down into the chair she gestured to, waiting as she sifted through her numerous hair products. After a moment's decision, she pulled out a curler and her Got 2 B Glued hairspray.
"Ella?" I said fearfully. She turned to me, still deep in thought. "Last time you used that on me, it was so my hair would stand on end for my Halloween costume."
She seemed to come out of a trance. "Hm? Oh, this is for volume."
She crossed to behind me, combing my hair and flicking through her N'Style magazine. She stopped at a page and propped it up to where I couldn't see it. Guess she wanted it to be a surprise.
SHe took the-now heated-curling iron and twisted my hair around it, paused, and let it out. She did this all over my head, a look of deep concentration on her face, and then swiveled the chair so I could see myself in the mirror.
"I look like Farrah Fawcett!" I cried, shaking my hair. I really did; and, take my word for it, an '70s actress is NOT a look you want.
"Oh, I still have to brush it out," she grumbled, and quickly ran a brush through my hair. She was right; I looked much less Charlie's Angels and much more Teen Vogue. I approved. Sort of.
"You look so hot. If I was a guy, I would be, like, falling over myself to land a date with you. I am GOOD." she said proudly, flicking her own brown hair over her shoulder. I smiled at her.
"I suppose I can be seen in public," I told her. Suddenly, Ella's eyes widened. "It's 6!" she cried. At that exact moment, the doorbell rang. Ella was practically shaking in excitement; I rolled my eyes, grabbed the purse-thing, and opened the door.
"Hey, Max." Sam greeted. I smiled at him. He smiled a small smile in return.
"Hey, Sam."
"I, um, thought we could walk. It's not that far." I nodded, and stepped outside. When I turned around to tell Ella goodbye, I saw her bouncing up and down and biting her knuckles to keep from squealing. I rolled my eyes and started down the steps. "C'mon," I told Sam.
We walked in silence for a while, in which I tried to figure out if it was companionable, like with Nick, or awkward, like with virtually every other guy I'd ever met (excluding Iggy, of course). Just as I was almost sure it was awkward, Sam cleared his throat and spoke up.
"You look really nice," he told me. I blushed and smiled. "You too," I told him. He was wearing a striped blue polo (Aeropostle, if I had to guess), jeans, and white Vans.
It was sort of chilly, and I was glad Ella had given me the leather jacket. I looked around at the fall foliage, and remembered that I still hadn't thought of a Halloween costume.
"Here we are," Sam said, and I realized that we had made it to Shake Shack. I smiled gratefully at him. "Sorry, I zoned out,"
"What were you thinking about?" he asked as we joined the short line.
"Halloween," I replied.
"What are you going to be?" He asked.
"I haven't decided yet." He nodded, turning toward the glass case that displayed the different ice cream flavors.
"Y'know," I told him, "I think I'll be spontaneous today and get cookie dough." He nodded appreciatively.
"If it's a day of spontaneity, I guess I'll get mint chocolate chip," he said.
I ended up getting cookie dough with rainbow sprinkles, gummy bears, and chocolate chips. "An odd combination," Sam commented, and I nodded. I wasn't used to small talk; it felt weird and unnatural.
Seeming to read my mind, Sam spoke up. "This is too awkward," he said. "Let's just drop the 'date' pretense and chill out, like normal." I nodded. Everybody was nodding today, it seemed.
I tried to talk to him like I used to, but something was...off. I think he noticed it too, because he kept sighing and fidgeting in his seat. Finally, when we'd both finished our cones, he got up.
"I guess we should go," Sam said awkwardly.
"Yeah," I said, and chuckled nervously. "I told my mom I'd be home soon." A complete lie. Mom was in Virginia at a veterinarian expo.
We walked home, me shivering in my now flimsy-seeming leather jacket. Sam offered me his coat, but I turned him down. He seemed disappointed.
After about five minutes of nondescript walking, we made it to my house. I walked up to the door and Sam followed me; I turned to face him, unsure of what to say.
"Um...I had a good time." I told him lamely. He shook his head.
"No, you didn't," he said regretfully. "We were both a little off today. But, I don't really care. I like you a lot, and I don't want one awkward date to keep us apart. So...can we try this again sometime?"
I blinked. That was, no question, the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me.
"Thanks," I told him shyly, and he lifted my chin with two of his fingers.
"It's true," he murmured, and kissed me.
Somehow, I had expected my first kiss to be, like, legendary; the whole, light-up-your-world, cliche teen magazine stuff. But this was just physical contact. And somewhere, really deep in the hazy parts in my mind, I wished that it was NIck.
Which totally ruined the moment and weirded me out.
I broke off, and his eyes gave it away; it was too soon, he's disappointed, what do I say now?
"G'night," I muttered finally, turning and putting my hand on the doorknob. He touched my shoulder. "Yeah," he said, trying valiantly to hide his disappointment. HE was such a good guy; why couldn't I like him? "'G'night."
I think that was my longest chapter. I'm proud of myself.
And if you're reading this, that means that you like this story enough to get past the first eight chapters. So, why not express that to me in a REVIEW?
Ha. Got you there.