8. Emily
Emily
The First Date
“ S o you two are going to get ice cream?” The sound of the turning page of a magazine comes from my bed.
I see Kamryn in the mirror's reflection behind me. She’s laying on her stomach with her feet swinging back and forth and came over when I told her James asked me out for an ice cream date. We’ve been “dating” for about six weeks. When really our dates consist of hanging out between our houses since neither of us can drive.
So when an ice cream shop recently opened within walking distance of our neighborhood and when James wasn’t with me he was doing chores around his house, scraping up some extra money to impress me.
His words, not mine.
My outfit is simple. A maxi dress with a thicker skirt and I’ll pair it with some Chelsea boots. Since we’re still early into winter, I have a thick cardigan that I can wear over top.
Finishing with my hair, I pull it back in a half-up and tie a bow in the back. When I’m done, I plop down on my bed next to Kamryn. “Yep. I shouldn’t be nervous. But I am. Totally nervous that is.”
My parents are, yet again, absent for the weekend. I’ve seen them for all of twenty minutes in the last week. They’ve been so immersed in work that I haven’t told them I’m dating anyone. Truthfully, I don’t want them to know. I love my parents. I really do. But I want full-time parents more than I want parents in passing.
The bed is jostled as Kam adjusts her position and sits next to me. “Don’t be. Nervous, that is. You two are adorable together. Just have fun.”
Just have fun , has been running through my head since Kamryn left.
Just have fun , runs through my head as James rings the doorbell for our date. I gather my phone and house key before bounding down the stairs.
I blow out a breath and open the door, “Hi.”
“Hi,” the boyish smile I’ve come to adore greets me. “These are for you.” James tells me as he holds out a bouquet of sunflowers.
“Thank you,” I accept the flowers and hold the door open wider. “Come in. Let me find a vase for these and then we can go.”
The quiet snick of the door shutting rolls over me as I walk into the kitchen to find a vase. I can’t remember the last time we had flowers in the house, so I hope a vase is stashed away under the kitchen sink. With my luck, I find five lined up in the back of the cabinet and snatch out a blue vase with flowers etched into the glass.
Five minutes later, James and I are out of the house, walking hand-in-hand to the ice cream shop. It’s a mild early winter day with the sun shining and sixty-degree weather blessing us. If it were any colder, I’m not sure our date would have happened.
“Least favorite ice cream flavor?” James blurts out.
“Pistachio or peanut butter. Yuck. Yours?” I volley back.
Our hands swing between us. “Wait what’s wrong with peanut butter?”
“I’m allergic. Like deathly allergic to peanuts.”
“It’s a good thing I now know this about you. But my least favorite flavor would have to be rainbow swirl.”
I laugh through my question. “Why is your least favorite rainbow swirl?”
“Too many flavors. My brain can never figure out what it tastes like. So I don’t get it.” His face-dropping is too cute for words. “What’s your favorite flavor?”
“Are you sure you’re ready for the list?” I challenge him.
“Bring it on,” he declares, rubbing our hands together.
“I love classic vanilla. But pair it with a warm brownie or chocolate chip cookies and it’s pure heaven on your taste buds. Or a pie, but that’s more for holidays. Hmmm, I also can’t go wrong with butter pecan. And then I do love a good Oreo ice cream.”
“So you love ice cream?” James teases me.
“I do. If I could have it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner I would.” I proclaim. “What are your favorites?”
“I’m a simple boy, Em,” the nickname coming from him makes me blush. “Chocolate, vanilla, and mint chocolate chip will always be my favorite flavors. But you might sway me to try that Oreo ice cream you’re so fond of.”
Luckily when we walk into the ice cream shop, there are only a few people in line ahead of us. I inhale the welcome scent of sugar and waffle cones being made to order. James and I take our place behind a mom with her two kids.
The choices are endless and luckily they have an Oreo option, so that’s what I know I’m going to choose.
I look up at James and see his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He really is the cutest boy I’ve ever known. “Do you know what you’re going to get?”
“They have so many choices,” he whispers to me. I’m not sure why it endears me that he’s shy from talking loud, but it makes me like him even more.
“You’re cute, you know that?”
His gaze slides down to me and that boyish smile I’ve come to like so much graces his face. “You’re cute too,” he tells me right before he boops me on the tip of my nose and slings his arm over my shoulder, tucking me into his side.
Day by day and week by week, James and I have gotten more comfortable around each other. We’re still hesitant with our moves. But as time goes on I’m realizing that everything is safe and everything is better when we’re touching in some form.
Is it also crazy that he hasn’t kissed me? I mean I’ve never been kissed so I’m not sure how long you’re supposed to date someone before you kiss them. But I want to kiss him so bad. He would be my first kiss so I want it to be perfect.
We place our ice cream orders and accept them across the display counter. Once paid we bundle into a small table. I let James try the Oreo flavor and I begrudge him by tasting the mint chocolate chip. I’m not a fan of his, but he was a fan of my ice cream.
We don’t linger too long in the shop and start our walk back to my house. It’s still mid-afternoon and no cars are in the driveway.
“You wanna watch a movie?” James proposes as we walk through the front door. Our shoes and jackets line the wall before we head into the living room. I pluck up the remotes and walk over to the couch.
“You pick.” I say, holding out the remote for James to take is like handing him control of a ship.
His laugh is contagious as he flips through until he finds a movie we’ll both enjoy. I pull the blankets off the back of the couch and unfold them before laying it over us. Laughter escapes me as I see the opening scene of Miss Congeniality displayed on the TV.
I turn to look at James. His smile lights up his eyes and I have this intense urge to kiss him. So I do. I gently turn his head and press my lips to his. His moves are delayed until he kisses me back. I’m not sure what to do so I follow his lead. All he does is kiss me back, but I can still sense his nerves as he does so.
James breaks the kiss. His lips are swollen and red. I’m sure my lips look the same.
“Why’d you kiss me?” He asks, but not in an accusatory way.
“Because I wanted to,” is the only response I give him.