Chapter 12
Then
I left the dance that night with my head held high and Michael on my arm.
The minions watched with mouths agape.
Tammy and I high-fived each other as we walked out through the door.
It was only 8:00, and I didn’t have to be home until 10:00.
“So, what are you in for now, kid?”
Michael said as he helped me back into the Corvette.
He could call me a kid as much as he wanted.
I didn’t care; somehow, I felt it was a unique pet name reserved only for me.
“I don’t care.
Anywhere, but back in there or home,”
I said as Michael closed the door.
Once he was in the car, he asked, “You hungry? We could go back to my place and call in a pizza.”
Hanging out with Michael at his place sounded like an excellent idea.
But pizza didn’t.
“How about we stop at the grocery and pick something to make?”
“You’re sure? I’m not much of a cook.”
“I don’t doubt that,”
I said, feeling more comfortable around him.
“If you don’t mind.
I buy, you cook,”
Michael said.
“Great.
You like chicken cacciatore?”
“I’ve never had it.”
“Well, you’re in for a real treat.
Tammy and I have perfected our recipe, and it’s to die for.”
He smiled, and his eyes gleamed with happiness.
I was happy, too, and felt something special starting between us.
At seventeen, everything has magic.
And magic is only an illusion.
As we walked through the grocery store dressed to kill, I felt like one of those sexy celebrities caught out in public, doing everyday things with all the looks we were getting.
I loved it.
Michael pushed the cart as I threw things in to make the chicken cacciatore.
The smile on my face never waned.
Nor did his. In my mind, we were not only celebrities, shopping for dinner, but married too. Every so often, his name for me would switch from kid to dear. And even how he used the word, You’re such a dear to do this. It still felt like a term of endearment.
Our menu was complete, and he paid with his credit card at the checkout.
I felt so grown up, and what would be a hassle for most was a Mardi Gras for me.
I couldn’t wait to make Michael dinner and sit across the table with candles, wine, and music.
I would do my best to give him all the attention.
He would never want another. I already knew I was in love. But love doesn’t come even; I learned that the hard way.
Once we returned to his car, he said, “This will be fun.
No one besides my mother has ever made me dinner.”
I was already on a great start to winning Michael’s heart.
I was going to be the first to make him dinner.
To be the first girl to make him dinner made me happy.
I had Michael light the candles he had bought, stating it was necessary since we were eating Italian and he had opened the bottle of wine.
He would have purchased sparkling grape juice, but I told him natural wine was okay and that Tammy and I have wine sometimes.
Her mother would allow it when we made our gourmet cuisines as long as I spent the night.
But I doubt I would be spending the night with Michael.
I would have to pop in some gum before Michael took me home.
He didn’t have any Italian music, so we settled on an instrumental channel on the radio, and I loved how he involved himself on our special night.
Why things like this could never last will always be a mystery to me.
I didn’t know that loving, wanting, and pleasing someone would become the last thing anyone ever wants.
Like it was the worst thing you could do for them.
Yet, this is what I wanted in return, and I didn’t know about vulnerability at such a young age—letting someone see that all you need in your life is the other person. And trusting him not to hurt you would become a reality.
The table was romantic, with candles, wine glasses, and paper plates.
“Look how you even make my paper plates look posh with your amazing cacciatore,”
Michale said, pulling out my chair.
He took the seat across and lifted his glass.
“To your to-die-for-cacciatore…Jill,”
he said my name with hesitation, and I wasn’t sure why.
But then, when I saw the look in his eyes, I couldn’t deny there was something there.
“Thank you.”
I clinked his glass and sipped the wine.
I watched his reaction when he took the first bite.
Through his chewing, his smile radiated superbly.
He began talking with a mouthful.
“Wow, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
I was pleased that I could make him happy with something so simple.
We finished our dinner.
I found some leftover Chinese takeout containers and stored the rest of the cacciatore in Michael’s fridge.
Afterwards, we sat on his couch.
He took off his suit coat, pulled his tie off with a ‘swish,’ and dropped it on the side of the sofa.
He unbuttoned his shirt just below his chest, and my eyes raked over his exposed skin as he topped off his wine. I still had some left and knew I shouldn’t, but I lifted for a refill anyway. “Not much more, kid,”
he said, topping my glass halfway.
It was quiet as we drank our wine, and I wondered what he was thinking.
I wanted to ask him what this was.
Was I still just a friend’s kid sister? Or was I gaining a place in his heart?
He set his wine on the stereo speaker and turned to face me.
His look was different and soft, and I tried to discern its meaning.
“How old are you, Jill?”
I thought he knew how old I was.
But then again, it never came up until now.
“Seventeen,”
I said like it was no big deal.
Why was he asking now?
“Does your brother know you’re with me tonight?”
“He knows I took you to the dance.”
I was splitting hairs.
Because Scott didn’t know we had left early and that I was alone in his apartment.
I wanted to ask if April knew he went with me tonight but didn’t want her to obstruct our night.
But I did want her to know.
His hand came toward my face, and he cupped my cheek.
“You are a beautiful girl, Jill.
Never think that you aren’t.”
He smiled, and it was different from all the smiles he had given me in the past.
There was sweetness, curiosity, and…fear.
Perhaps he saw more in me than a young girl with a crush.
But even at that moment, I knew it was more than a crush for me.
Before moving them to my lips, he considered my eyes for the longest time.
“Have you ever been kissed before, Jill?”
I thought of my first year in high school when Tommy Sommers and I made out on the church hayride.
“Only by a boy.
I’ve never kissed a man before,”
I said, looking sincerely into his eyes.
And I hoped his asking was an invitation.
Because I wanted this man to kiss me, I wanted it more than anything.
And at that moment, his look told me he did, too.
“You want to kiss me?”
I nodded.
I couldn’t speak.
Because if I did, I was sure to ruin the moment.
“Come here,”
he whispered.
I leaned closer, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
My heart was pounding against my breastbone, so much I could hear it.
He leaned down and pressed his lips gently onto mine.
It started with a small kiss, and he pulled my lips into his. When I began to open my mouth, he moaned. I felt something so combustible inside me. I was dizzy and full of what must have been lust or love. I couldn’t tell because I had never felt like that before. My hand came to his face, and I gently rubbed it with curiosity. He then covered it with his hand and pulled away. My eyes were closed, and he smiled down at me when I opened them. “Was that different?”
This time, I could speak. “Yeah,”
I said, all breathy.
He gave a small chuckle.
“I’m flattered.
Don’t think anyone’s ever responded like that from a kiss.”
His finger traced down my cheek.
“Just wish you weren’t seventeen.
Or the little sister of my friend.”
Even at that moment, it didn’t seem to matter that there were obstacles in our way.
Because it meant he did have feelings for me.
Romantic feelings.
And in some way, those obstacles seemed to make what we had even hotter: forbidden.
He turned around, reached for his wine, and looked at his watch.
The reality that I had to be home at 10:00 was slowly creeping in, and I searched for a reason to call and see if I could stay longer.
“I could call and say we are helping with clean-up at the dance and stay longer.”
He shifted his body and said, “Jill, I promised your father I would have you home at 10:00.
I don’t want to be on his bad side.”
I smiled down shyly like I did whenever my parents lectured me.
“Besides, how will I get another date if I didn’t honor your father’s wishes?”
Another date? He did consider us on an actual date.
And at that point, I loved his chivalry.
He wanted to remain loyal to my father out of respect to see me again.
How could I argue with that?
“You’re right.
It was just a suggestion.
Thank you for wanting to honor my father.”
Respecting my father showed me he was a real man, not a boy.
Most guys Tammy and I hung out with always asked us to lie and stay out longer.
Occasionally, we did the ‘I was staying with her, and she was staying with me’ trick and stayed all night at some guy’s house who was a friend of a friend.
But the house was full of people we didn’t know, so Tammy and I slept in a friend’s car.
It wasn’t fun. We got away with it but never did it again. And now, Michael was changing my view of responsibility, and I needed to be more grown up and trustworthy.
He finished his wine, and I took another sip, forgetting it was in my hand.
I was happy I didn’t spill it in his lap with the heart-melting kiss.
“So, how long have you worked at the pizza place?”
He was changing the subject and was still interested in my life.
“A year.
I want to find something else.
But with school, finding something part-time that works with my schedule is hard.
During the summer, I work more hours.”
“How much do you need—money-wise? If you find something to fit your schedule?”
I didn’t understand why he was even interested.
But I said, “I make at least $75 to $150 weekly.
Depending on tips.
I mostly work in the kitchen.
That night I brought your pizza, our driver didn’t show.”
“Would you like to work for me?”
Work for him? “What do you mean?”
“Whirlpool has put a lot of hours on me, and I could use someone to clean and run errands.
I would pay you $150 a week.
It can fit your schedule.
And now that I know you’re a superb cook, I could use that too.”
He was serious.
I could be with Michael every night. “Sure,”
I said with the excitement of a child at Christmas.
“I would have to give Delanie’s notice.”
I tried to bring it down some.
“I understand.
So, you want the job?”
“Yes.”
He held out his hand, and we shook on it.
“Let me know your last day at Delanie’s, and you can start immediately.”
“Okay.
Awesome.
And thanks.”
“No, thank you.”
He looked again at his watch and made a sad face when he saw it was 9:30.
A sad face! He did want me to stay.
He reached for my wine glass, so I finished what was left and stood when he took them to the sink.
“I’ll try and have them cleaned before you start,”
he laughed.
He rolled the cuffs of his sleeves as he walked back.
Then, he reached for my hand and placed a small kiss on top.
“Thank you for allowing me to escort you to the dance and the wonderful chicken cacciatore, my Lady.
But your chariot awaits.”
“Thank you for taking me.
I had a wonderful time,”
I said with a curtsy.
He grabbed the keys from the counter and placed his hand on the small of my back as we walked out to his Corvette.
As he helped me inside, the smile on my face felt as if it would last forever as I watched him walk around and climb into the driver’s seat.
He started the car and slid a CD into the player.
When Shania began singing, “You’re Still the One,”
our eyes met for a second.
I knew right there and then the girl I was before I knew Michael would never be the same.
Worlds change when eyes meet.
And change isn’t always good.
And I was too young to sense the danger a smile or a glance could hold.