Page 21 of When You Were Mine

Me: black dress, red shawl

Rob: dark jeans, blue button-down

Dialogue:

Rob: I’m so happy we ended up here.

Me: I just don’t know. I mean, we’ve been friends for so long.…

Rob: You don’t have to know.Iknow. For now that’s enough, and I will do everything in my power to convince you that this is right.

(He takes my face in his hands. Kisses me passionately.)

Me: I think it’s working.

3) School Dance

Me: silver dress, heels

Rob: black suit

Dialogue:

Rob: I’m so crazy about you.

Me: You are?

Rob: I can’t believe I’m here dancing with Rosaline Caplet. I’m so lucky.

Me: Are you sure this is right?

Rob: There is no one else on the planet for me. Only you.

The Rob in my fantasy dates is never nervous. He’s always self-assured. But the Rob sitting across from me looks kind of freaked out. I thought we’d worked all this out in the car earlier, but as soon as we sit down, it’s like he remembers we’re on a date and immediately freezes up. I take a gulp of water and start coughing. It startles Rob, and he looks at me with this mixture of confusion and surprise. Great. I am so not what he bargained for.I’ll bet he’s not even going to kiss me now. I’m going to graduate from high school with Jason Goddamn Grove still on my lips.

But then Rob reaches across the table and lays his fingertips right by my plate. He’s looking at me and biting his lower lip, like he’s not sure this was the right move. I sort of edge my fingers onto the table, to encourage him, and then caterpillar them closer. This is weird. This is weird, right? I mean, there are Rob’s hands, right in front of me, and I’m trying to figure out where to put mine, how to hold his, if that’s even what he wants. (Although, if it wasn’t what he wanted, why would he be reaching way the hell over to my plate? Why would he have leaned his knee against mine in assembly this morning? Why would we evenbehere?) This feels ridiculous, this finger dance. In my fantasies he always just takes my hand firmly. There are no sweaty palms. There’s no awkwardness. No uncertainty.

Finally he takes my thumb in his hand. Of all the fingers to grab, this would not have been the one I would have picked, but whatever. He sort of just holds it between his own thumb and index finger. Which is, truth be told, not very sexy. We should have gone about this all differently. I want to call a time-out and start over. First dates are important. I want us to get this one right.

“So, what are you going to order?” I ask. He’s still holding my thumb, and my other hand is just kind of lying there, so I use it to pick up my water glass.

“Pasta,” he says. He’s studying my thumb now. He’s staring at it. Running his index finger up the side.

“Cool.”

“You’re getting the Caprese pizza, right?”