Truthfully, he'd tried to talk himself out of the date. After he'd had time to sit back and process what happened at the wedding, he started to wonder what kind of girl kissed a guy right after hearing all about his troubles with another girl? Betty Pillsbury certainly wasn't anything like her meek aunt, that was for sure.

He had awhile to think about it, too. Before Christmas, Artie and his family visited Brooklyn to see the campus and the city. Despite the fact that the holidays were upon them, which meant many students were home, a professor – an older gentleman who taught 'History of Film' and had probably been around for most of it – was there and showed them around. The professor made sure to point out various accessibility features around campus. Being that this man used a cane and a motorized scooter on occasion, he was something of an expert on that. Artie had to admit, despite some of the buildings being older, they were up to code. One more positive about Brooklyn and the school he'd dreamed of going to. The negative side being, he still couldn't imagine being so far from home.

Neither his parents nor his sister made a big deal about the distance. Instead, they praised the city for its beauty and excitement and speculated on what it would be like for Artie to live there. Amy even commented that she wished she'd been as brave as he about stepping outside her comfort zone and seeing another part of the world. Artie didn't know yet if he was really that brave.

While in Manhattan, Artie also got to see his very first production on Broadway, one of his bucket-list shows, 'Porgy and Bess.' (He always imagined himself playing Porgy someday, even though casting a white actor would be non-traditional, at best, and at worst, highly offensive and controversial.) At his mother's suggestion, they also saw 'A Christmas Carol with Simon Callow' on the West End. That led to his sister finding out about 'Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas' at Madison Square Garden, which rounded out their festive experience in the city. Having already agreed to let this entire experience be their gift to one another, the family spared no expense on the trip. Artie was incredibly grateful, particularly to his father who only liked musicals because the family did but gladly went along with the fun anyway.

Back to Betty. Upon returning from their trip, the family spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day unpacking and recovering from the whirlwind visit to NYC. Artie remembered he'd gotten Betty's number at the wedding, where he'd impulsively promised her a date after their spontaneous public lip-lock.

He had a text from Kitty, too. He hadn't texted or talked to her since school let out. He was still too embarrassed, for now when he thought of her, he remembered her shoveling ice and salting the Ramp of Doom all in the name of accessibility for Artie. Why did he panic every time a girl went on a crusade for the disabled, all in the name of helping him? He bypassed the text to Kitty on his way to composing one to Betty instead.

Bowling? Food? Both? Name your price, woman.

There. Not the most romantic date invitation ever, but I did get straight to the point. Though Artie knew very little about Betty, he did know that she preferred a direct approach. She didn't waste any time, that was for sure.

Back to Kitty. To his shock and horror, her text was a picture. Someone had taken a candid shot of Artie with Betty at the wedding. Artie had seen it in the wedding album Ms. Pillsbury recently shared on Facebook. (He wasn't about to friend his parents, but he'd added the guidance counselor as a friend way back during freshman year.) Kitty had texted it to him, with a question.

Who's the girl in the wheelchair with the disturbingly massive boobs?

Awkward. The girl he was secretly not-dating yet not entirely indifferent towards now had evidence of his infidelity. Only no, she didn't, because they weren't dating. How could it be infidelity? And in any case, he'd even gotten Kitty's blessing to go on this blind date.

That's Betty, Ms. P's niece and my blind date, Artie texted back. Ms. P decided we had a lot in common.

Literally five minutes went by.

OK.

The dreaded "OK," a brisk but direct wrap-up of their quick interaction. Artie could have done a lot of things. He could have texted back to inquire about Kitty's ski trip and her Christmas. He could have started a conversation about his college visit to NYC and all the shows they'd seen. He could have even been so brazen as to pick up the phone and call the girl.

Artie went with D) None of the above.

Betty texted back to say that bowling sounded fun to her.

Artie had a very specific style of bowling he liked to enjoy. He and Amy had dubbed it "bumper bowling" back when they were little. They liked to ensure a successful bowling trip by utilizing bumpers on both sides to keep the ball out of the gutter. (Sometimes he or Amy still managed the occasional gutter ball, even with bumpers, and that always made them laugh.) When the pair of siblings renamed it "bumper bowling," they changed the object of the game to be hitting the bumpers as many times as possible before knocking over the pins. They even started keeping count of how many times the ball bounced off the side on the way down the lane, and that became a truly fun way to bowl.

Betty laughed and laughed as he explained this, while lacing up his bowling shoes. She copied Artie's quirky habit of renting the smelly shoes and actually putting them on, in spite of the fact that their feet never touched the ground. He'd giddily explained that he did the same thing when the glee club went to the roller rink, renting and actually wearing the skates they gave him while sitting in his wheelchair.

"You really are a strange breed, Artie Abrams," she told him, as she finishing tying her laces and put her foot back in place on her footrest. "There. My first time wearing the smelly shoes, and I'm still not sure why I let you talk me into this."

Artie let her go first. They both used the adaptive device meant for children and disabled people, or really anyone who wanted to use it, a ramp for the ball. Artie could bend fairly well at the waist and sometimes didn't use it, but he noticed Betty couldn't. Her injury must have been a bit higher than his, or so he assumed. She wore some kind of brace around her waist to aid her posture. He noticed her tugging at it from time to time. It also seemed to be part of why her boobs were so impossibly perky. Not that he was staring at them or anything.

Betty's disability wasn't something they were going to talk about, however, as it didn't prevent her from kicking his ass and getting a strike or a spare with every shot. He did, however, take advantage of the bumpers more than she did. So, using he and Amy's rules, he was winning. He gleefully explained that to her.

"You can't just change the rules of bowling," she argued, smirking after bowling a strike without hitting any bumpers at all. Artie just put his nose in the air and ignored her as he awarded her no tally marks on the small notepad he'd brought along for bumper-bowling scoring.

"Says who?" Artie asked, innocently.

"I guess this is how you play mini-golf, too?" Betty laughed. "Trying to hit the sides as many times as you can and completely ignoring whether or not it went in the hole?"

"I mean, no, but that's a great idea," Artie told her, as she laughed even more and he joined her. "I like seeing you laugh," he admitted.

"I like laughing at you," Betty said. "Notice I said at you, not with you. You're still a complete dork."

"I see you haven't lost your touch," Artie commented, grinning at her relentless teasing, which he didn't mind. "Want to get something to eat?"

Betty wrinkled her nose. "From here?" she averted her gaze over to the snack bar and returned to meet his eyes wearing a most disdainful expression. "Do they have anything that won't make me sick to my stomach?"

"How about a pretzel or something?" Artie suggested. "They probably can't ruin that."

It turned out, he was wrong. The bowling alley could and did ruin the pretzel. His was sort of stale and the dipping sauce was weird. Thankfully, Betty went with a pizza against her "better judgment" and it ended up being big enough for them to share. She let him buy the food, but she'd paid for her own bowling before he'd arrived. Artie hadn't decided if this was a real date or not, but him buying something for her seemed to suggest that it was.

"So, last time I texted you, you were in Manhattan having the New York holiday of your dreams," Betty said, by way of making easy conversation. (Artie appreciated that she was so good at this kind of thing, for he was not.) "How was that?"

"Well, I hated the subway but everything else was fine," Artie reported. "The buses have to take wheelchairs. They really act like they do it all the time, and it isn't a big deal to them."

Betty rolled her eyes. "I wasn't asking about accessibility," she clarified. "I mean, how's the city? What's it like? Can you see yourself living there and going to school there?"

"Oh, it's amazing," Artie said, laughing a little at himself. It was hard not to think about accessibility, as finding out what that was like had been one of the most important parts of the visit in his mind. "I saw my first Broadway show, one I've really wanted to see for a long time, plus we saw a show in the West End and one at Madison Square Garden. They were really good. I wouldn't have picked them, it was my sister's and my mom's idea to see some Christmas shows, but they were still the best quality shows I've ever seen. Do you like musicals?"

"They're my life!" This was the most excited Artie had seen Betty act about anything. "Aside from cheerleading, it's what I'm known for at school. We just finished 'Oklahoma!' I was Ado Annie. We're doing 'Mama Mia' this spring. Auditions are at the start of next semester. Maybe you'd like to come see me perform?"

There was no question, it seemed, in Betty's mind that she'd be getting a starring role again. With an enthusiastic nod, he agreed to that idea. He liked that she continued to bring up the notion of seeing more of him. He liked the idea of seeing more of her, too.

"I just finished directing a musical," Artie explained. "Last year, we did 'West Side Story.' This year, we did 'Grease.' I directed and had to play Teen Angel, due to one of my cast members needing to drop out. I picked 'Grease' just because it's popular and a crowd-pleaser. It wouldn't have been my first choice otherwise, but we made a good profit and I had great people for it..." he trailed off. "Like Kitty. The girl I was telling you about. She played Sandy."

"Ah," Betty said, nodding as she recalled their conversation about Artie's brief-and-confusing rendezvous with Kitty. "Is that where it all began with you and this girl?"

"No!" At this, Artie caught himself becoming defensive, even though Betty wasn't aware of the situation. "It... happened after. My decision to cast Kitty was based purely on merit. She deserved the part."

"So serious, all the time." Betty rolled her eyes at him again. "Do you always do this? You're overthinking this thing with the girl, Artie. If you like her, go for it. If it doesn't work out, what do you care anyway? You're leaving for college soon."

Artie was so confused. Did Betty like him or not? One minute he thought the date was going well, the next minute she was telling him to go after another girl.

"And what if I like someone else now?" Artie asked, locking eyes with Betty as he tested her. She returned with a blank look, one that quickly turned to shock and then something like horror.

"I told you," she said, in a measured voice. "I don't date losers in chairs. Not seriously, I mean."

Artie furrowed his brow. She was really messing with his head now. "Then why did you kiss me at the reception?"

"So I could find out if you were a good kisser."

Betty acted like this was a perfectly normal thing to do, to just kiss someone you'd known for all of a couple of hours simply to find out if they were a good kisser. Artie just gaped at her.

And you are, you really are," she went on. "That part I'll miss. But I can't date you, Artie. And honestly, you shouldn't want to date me either." Before he could interject that they were, at present, on a date, she added: "I don't mean we shouldn't casually hang out, as friends. We can do that. I'll even let you pay again."

"Thanks?"

Look, Artie, I wanted to get your number and get to know you better, because I saw the chance to make a friend who gets it," she explained.

"And yet if I bring up accessibility, you roll your eyes or tell me I'm being, to use your word, 'handi-centric,'" Artie countered.

"Well, yeah, it's pretty reductive!" Betty shot back. "C'mon, I know you don't want your chair to be the first thing people think about, so don't make it the first thing you talk about."

Artie tried not to feel called out. "Fine."

"I'm sorry to say this, Artie, but I really need a guy who can do the things I can't do," Betty said, unapologetically. "He'll be happy to help me because he cares about me that much. And you need a girl who can do the same for you."

Artie didn't say anything to that. He just thought of Kitty, the shovel, and the salt. She had done that because she cared, even if she didn't calculate how long it would take for the salt to take effect. It was the thought that counted. And he hadn't expected it. He'd been so blindsided by her thoughtful gesture that he hadn't known how to respond. So instead, he'd appeared ungrateful, like he didn't want her help at all.

"... Something wrong?" Betty finally asked, as the awkward silence went on for too long.

"It's not that simple, from my perspective," he began, admitting what was on his mind but hard to put into words. "It's normal, you see, for a guy to carry some stuff for the girl he likes. Open the door for her. Reach something from up high. Help her with something. But for the girl to do it for the guy? And especially if there are times that she has to? The world's not nearly as accepting."

Betty nodded, and for a change, she wasn't judging him for a comment or downplaying what he said. "I know," she said. "And it sucks for you."

"Not much I can do about it, but as you pointed out, it's nice meeting someone who gets it." And Artie, who wasn't really looking for a girlfriend out of this anyway, reminded her that they wanted the same thing as he smiled warmly and got a genuine one back in return.

She hesitated, opening and then closing her mouth once before speaking. "I was two years old," she shared. "When mom and I got into our accident. She was fine. But I guess I have a slightly different experience from you. You remember what being normal was like, whereas I don't."

Artie nodded. "Thanks for sharing your story," he told her. "I know telling it gets kind of old. But I figured out that it's kind of important. I went so long before I told my friend, Tina, that she probably felt like it was a taboo topic. And really, it's not. I don't think I have to tattoo it on my forehead or anything. Print it on a t-shirt maybe..."

Betty giggled, getting his humor instantly. "I was wrong about you, Artie."

"How's that?" he wondered.

"You really do have that Andrew Garfield vibe," she commented. "Kind of nerdy hot like him."

Artie felt himself blush. "Well. That's all a guy could ask for really. I– oh shit."

"What?" Betty looked alarmed, as she followed Artie's gaze over her shoulder and made direct eye contact with the blonde among a group of five teenagers.

It was not possible for Artie to crawl under the table right now, and that was too bad. Kitty was accompanied by Jake, Marley, Ryder, and Bree. With three girls and two guys, it was clearly a group outing for the sophomores, rather than any sort of double date. And what Artie was doing with Betty, as they had just established, wasn't an actual date but it sure looked like one to an outsider.

"Hiiiii!" squealed Kitty's friend, Bree. Artie was briefly reminded that she'd been among the small crowd that witnessed him being splayed all over the ramp a couple weeks ago and internally winced at the memory. Outwardly, he managed a friendly smile. "We saw you two bowling over there earlier. Are you going out?"

"Nope," Betty answered Bree for them both. "Just friends. I'm Betty. My aunt's the guidance counselor at your school."

Bree and Kitty were both sporting their Cheerios jackets, giving them away as McKinley students.

"I'm Bree," said Bree. "Not like the cheese. And this is Marley, Jake, Ryder, and Kitty."

To Betty's enormous credit, she gave no sign that she'd already heard Kitty's name from Artie before. Instead, she just smiled at each person as they were introduced. She must have realized now why Artie had panicked over the sight of this group of people from school. But she, being a trained actress, was careful not to show it.

It was then that Artie dared to make eye contact with Kitty again, as he sensed that her eyes were on him. As a matter of fact, she was shooting daggers at him with her eyes now, her face betraying her emotions. What was this? Jealousy?

"You two would make a cute couple if you ever did," Bree went on, completely clueless to her blonde friend seething silently beside her. "We were watching you bowl over there. I had no idea handicapped people could bowl!" (Bree seemed to read the room, as Betty raised her eyebrows in surprise.) "Is-is that how you say it? Handicapped?"

"Er, that's more like the parking, not the people," Artie interjected, before Betty could be undoubtedly be more blunt and less forgiving than he was. "But... it's fine. Yeah, there are plenty of sports disabled people can do."

"How's the food here?" Ryder wanted to know, finally giving them a break from Bree's monologue and changing the subject.

"The pizza's... sort of edible," Betty reported, before turning to address Bree with a sweet voice that sounded different from her usual one. "Were you guys bowling, too? Artie didn't see you. You could have come over and said 'hello' sooner, you know."

"We didn't want to interrupt," Marley explained. "We're about to go check out the arcade. Do you guys want to tag along?"

"Sure!" Betty answered before Artie could make some undoubtedly "handi-centric" comment about how a lot of the game controllers were out of reach.

There were plenty that worked for them, too. Skee ball, sometimes the basketball shoot-out game, and some of the car games that adjusted themselves to work without pedals being pushed if the player didn't use the accelerator at the start of the game. In any case, it was more about joining the group than playing the games.

Betty wasted no time enlisting the help of Ryder to transfer out of her chair and into the seat of one of the Mario Kart games. (She could have managed the transfer herself, Artie was sure, but she seemed content to wrap her arms around the neck of the big, tall guy.)

Artie sided up next to Betty as Ryder settled himself into the other car on her other side, looking comical as he tried to fold his lanky body in half to fit in the seat.

"He's fifteen, too," he said, low enough for only Betty to hear and laughed a little as her eyes widened, clearly shocked by the news.

It was then, however, that Artie caught sight of Kitty with her arms folded across her body, leaning up against one of the machines, still shooting daggers at him from across the room. He gestured for her to follow him, as he pivoted and wheeled off in search of a quiet place for them to talk, hoping desperately that she'd follow.

"Is she the reason you're ignoring me now?" Luckily, she was right behind him and broke the silence first as they headed back towards the snack bar line, away from the noisy machines and crashing bowling pins.

"Huh? Ignoring you?" Artie echoed, turning to face her and staring up at her beautiful yet bitterly angry face. "Why do you think that?"

"Because–" Kitty seemed to be trying to work out how to put into words exactly why she thought so. "You– you haven't really texted me over the break. You didn't even text me on Christmas."

Artie's face fell as she confessed that she'd been expecting to hear from her. He didn't realize he'd hurt her by not even texting. He'd just been so, well, busy on Christmas in New York that she'd slipped his mind.

"I... didn't realize I was supposed to," he said. That was obviously the wrong thing to say, as Kitty let him know by making a face. "That's– that's not what I mean. I mean..."

"Maybe you were busy texting Betty instead," Kitty said, with a glance over her shoulder. Possibly to make sure no one from their friend group had followed them over to hear this argument?

"What? No, I..." Except he wasn't going to lie. He remembered Kitty's first question to him, when she'd reached out via text, was about Betty, otherwise known to Kitty as the girl in the wheelchair with the massive boobs. "I did text her after Christmas to plan this bowling, uh, thing with her. As friends."

"As friends that kiss at weddings?" Kitty asked, with a knowing smirk. She had him now. When Artie didn't immediately speak, she knew she'd backed him into a corner. "When we saw you bowling, Marley mentioned that you two kissed at the wedding."

"She kissed me," Artie tried to explain. "That wasn't... I mean, she just wanted to know if I was a good kisser. It wasn't my idea at all. It's–"

"It's fine." She cut him off, before he could add any more excuses to his stammering reply. "It's not like we were dating or anything."

With that, she marched back into the noisy arcade, cutting off any and all possibilities of conversation. Artie wished for the ability to take her by the arm and put a stop to their fighting by suddenly grabbing her and kissing her just like a character in a movie would do. Instead, he followed her glumly back to the group in the arcade.

Betty seemed to be having the time of her life with Ryder and didn't seem all that concerned about him being fifteen. She was currently letting him win her a stuffed bear in a claw machine. And after that, she let him hoist her up onto a motorcycle game. As Ryder held Betty in place and she laughed, Artie tried to picture himself doing the same thing, but with Kitty holding him instead. Nope. It just didn't work the same way.

You're welcome, he thought, as he watched Betty. At least one of them was having a good time.