Thank you guys so much for being so patient. Writer's block and a busy week caused major delay in my writing. Hopefully I will be able to update much more frequently than that for now on. Comments, critique, and ideas are welcomed as always. Thanks!
I perch myself up on the ledge of the wall beside the door right outside the cafeteria and remove my lunch from my book bag. I love this idiot-free break in my day where I can read and eat in peace.
"You're quite anti-social," I hear the familiar voice and look up from unwrapping my sandwich to see Patrick walking in my direction.
"Coming from the social butterfly that you are I could almost take that as an insult," I retort as I take a bite of my self-made Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich.
"It wasn't meant as an insult," he shrugs. Noticing he doesn't have a lunch I rip off half of my soggy sandwich and offer it to him. He examines it, glances at me with a smile, and then accepts it, "Your kindergarten teacher would be proud," he says. I nod because I know this is the Patrick Verona way of thanking me.
"You're welcome," I respond with a wry smile as I finish off what is left of the sandwich I still hold. Silence hangs over us and the only thing that can be heard is the nearby chatter of gossiping girls in the courtyard.
"So…would it be terribly inappropriate for me to call you my girlfriend?" Patrick asks, his smooth voice shattering the quiet. I swallow the rest of my sandwich, trying to grasp whether he is really serious about this.
It shouldn't require much thought. The guy I like is asking me to be his girlfriend in the most adorable way ever. The fact that he is asking instead of assuming makes it that much better. Any normal person would have said yes immediately. So why am I have trouble getting the word out? Why does it feel so dangerous to say it?
"Um…no…that wouldn't be inappropriate at all," I answer nervously. He smiles and takes a bite of the sandwich that he still holds. And then I realize why it feels dangerous; the guard that I have thrown up in my own defense, the one that he could see right through, had just voluntarily been brought down while I accepted him as my first boyfriend in a year and a half.
************
"Dad," Bianca is whining when I saunter into the living room, "this party is crucial to my social life!"
"What is this you are watching?" My dad inquires, completely distracted--and increasingly disgusted--by the dating show that is playing on the television.
"Reality dating show," I answer as I sit down and pick up the remote, "They teach us that true love is watching your girlfriend make out with 20 guys and still wanting to 'win the challenge'" I change the channel to news.
"Can we focus on the issue here?" Bianca screeches, "My social life is going down the toilet!"
"Isn't this old news? I swear we talk about the flushing of your social life nightly in this house."
"Shut up!"
"Gladly, right after I ask dad something," I say. I turn to him, "Can Patrick take me out tomorrow night?"
"No," he says. Bianca takes her attention away from her own issues long enough to smile at my defeat.
"How does it feel?" she shoots spitefully from across the room.
"Why not?" I ask ignoring her laughter.
"He should have dinner here!" My dad exclaims in a voice that unrealistically insinuates that I should be jumping up and down at the idea.
"Great idea, Dad," Bianca harmonizes cheerfully, taking an obnoxious pleasure in the roadblock that has suddenly been thrown into my path.
"But Dad--"
"If this boy is as serious about you as he seems then I think he should be able to handle a night with your loving father and socially deprived sister."
Bianca throws her hands up in defeat. She must have just realized the same thing I did. Dad is going to make her come to this dinner and use it as an excuse to not let her go to the party. I smile evilly at her, taking pleasure in how the tables have turned so suddenly. She stomps angrily out of the room.
"Fine," I accept, "What time should I tell him?"
"Seven," he answers. Feeling a bit defeated but not willing to display it, I turn and begin walking out of the room.
"Kat," my dad calls from behind me. I turn, feeling less than excited about whatever it is that he has to say, "I'll keep the videos on the shelf."
I smile thankfully.
****************
As if clockwork, Patrick's face shows up in my bedroom window at eleven. I flip the locks and open the window, then move aside so he can climb in.
"What was so urgent that I had to stop by?" he inquires. I called him earlier and asked him to come over. It wasn't so much that I couldn't tell him about dinner over the phone, but more that I want to see his honest reaction when I ask him.
"I asked about dinner tomorrow night," I swear I see a flicker of excitement in his eyes and feel bad for having to drive a pitchfork through it, "and he said yes...as long as we have it here with the family."
"Okay," he says finally after an awkwardly long pause, but I can tell he isn't happy about it, "what time?"
"You knew from the beginning that dating me wouldn't be easy, so don't act as if this obstacle is such a surprise."
"I'm not. I just…" he shakes his head and continues dramatically, "when does it end?"
I catch his hand in mine and hold it, "It doesn't. That's why if you want to back out you should do it now."
He responds with a defeated sigh that tells me he will be sitting at the dinner table with us tomorrow night, "what time?"
"Seven," I respond, "be early."
I smile, moving myself into his arms. I extend onto my tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his lips. He more than deserves it.
