7. It’s a date
It’s a date
MALCOM: I’ve been giving this some thought, and rather than having dinner at a restaurant, why don’t we have dinner at my place instead? MALCOM: Less noise, less distractions … MALCOM: Plus, I won’t have to deal with anyone on the Douchebag Spectrum hitting on you.
Jules read the texts from Malcom and smiled.
She decided that even though having a date at someone’s home seemed like a farther-down-the-road type of date instead of a first ‘official’ date, it might be a good thing.
Seeing where someone lived could provide a lot of insight into that person—how they decorated the space, what color paint they had on the walls, etc. , so she quickly responded back.
Jules paused, because Wednesday was actually her birthday, and even though she never liked to make a thing out of it, she had to wonder if it would be weird to have their first official date be on her birthday.
Should she tell him? If she did, she ran the risk of him wanting to make it ‘special’ somehow, which she didn’t want.
If she didn’t tell him, though, and he found out later, he’d probably think it was weird she hadn’t told him.
By the time she’d decided to tell him, she’d apparently been radio silent long enough for him to become a little nervous.
MALCOM: If Wednesday’s no good, we can make it another night.
JULES: Wednesday’s fine. It’s just … my birthday.
JULES: And I was trying to figure out if I should tell you or not.
MALCOM: Why wouldn’t you want to tell me?
JULES: Because I normally don’t do anything for my birthday—I’ll go all out for everyone I know, but when it comes to my own birthday, the less of a deal it is, the better.
MALCOM: Did you have a traumatic birthday experience when you were younger, or something? Like … clowns at your party?
Jules almost snorted at that.
JULES: No, nothing traumatic. And no clowns.
JULES: I’ve just never been a ‘make-a-big-deal-out-of-my-birthday’ kind of girl.
Not even when I was a kid. It’s the one thing that makes me self-conscious.
JULES: My mom liked to make a big deal out of it, so I let her do her thing and plan parties for me, but now I fly under the radar.
MALCOM: Okay, well, I promise to not throw you a party on Wednesday night, all right?
JULES: Thank you. MALCOM: Oh, one more thing.
Do you have any food allergies or diet restrictions I should be aware of?
JULES: Hmm, I don’t think so. Why? MALCOM: Because I don’t want to make something you can’t—or won’t—eat.
JULES: At the risk of sounding suggestive, I’ll eat practically anything.
At least once. MALCOM: It did sort of sound suggestive, but that’s totally not a problem.
JULES: So … you’ll be cooking our dinner?
MALCOM: Who else would be cooking it? JULES: I guess I was assuming you’d be ordering in something.
MALCOM: Would you prefer that? JULES: No.
But I need a moment to get used to the idea of a man cooking for me.
MALCOM: You’ve never had a man cook for you before?
JULES: No. Unless you count my dad, which I don’t.
MALCOM: I don’t, either, so this will definitely be fun.