9. Elliot
ELLIOT
“ Y ou need to show off a little skin.”
I glance at my reflection in Scout’s full-length mirror again and frown.
I’m wearing my favorite navy and off-white, striped, long-sleeve jersey and loose-fitting jeans.
It isn’t insanely hot out today and even if it were, I wouldn’t wear shorts and a t-shirt on a date unless we were going to the beach.
“Skin? Shall I put your Daisy Dukes on and a crop top?”
She snorts. “He’d die on the spot. You’d look amazing.”
I laugh and shake my head, checking my reflection again and smoothing down a rogue strand of hair. Something deep down tells me this date is a bad idea, but after that weird moment with Connor at the movies, I had to do something to remind myself that Connor Ryan is off limits.
“Seriously, you look hot—smoking hot.”
She gets up off the bed and starts messing with my hair until I swat her hand away.
“Okay, okay. You’re done.” She steps back with a proud smile. “My baby,” she says, putting on a silly voice. “All grown up and about to bang Cute Bookstore Guy.”
My face gets hot and I turn away. “I am not going to …” I lower my voice. “Bang him.”
When I turn around, she’s giving me that skeptical raised eyebrow.
“Not tonight, anyway.”
She cackles.
I prepare myself to bump into Connor when we come downstairs, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
Naomi steps out of the kitchen when she hears us, smiling and wrapping a light cardigan around herself.
“Eli, you look very handsome.”
“He looks hot, Mom. Don’t downplay it.”
Naomi laughs while I try to calm the inferno building behind my cheeks.
I shoot one last guilty look at the living room before I leave, but it’s empty. Connor must be out.
It’s only when we’re halfway to the movies and Scout turns to ask me if I’m nervous that I realize I hadn’t even been thinking about Gabe. I’d been wondering where Connor is. If he's gone and hooked up with some girl—or guy—because I’m going on a date.
“Huh?”
“I said, are you nervous?”
“Oh … sure. A little.”
“Don’t be. He’d be an idiot not to like you.”
When Scout screeches to a stop outside the theatre, Gabe’s standing outside, waiting for me.
“Aww, look at that,” she says. “He’s checking his watch, all nervous and everything.”
My heart sinks. Why am I such a bad person? Gabe is lovely, and he likes me, and all I can think about is some other guy. I square my shoulders, try to put Connor out of my head. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Or, well, you can if you want.”
She winks before kicking me out of the car. I stand for a second, listening to her speed off.
Gabe looks up and spots me, a big smile spreading across his face. “Hi, you look great.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
He’s wearing another band t-shirt. This one is a Sonic Youth Goo album cover. I think about Connor calling him pretentious and shake it off. Connor doesn’t even know the guy. He was just jealous. Jealous . Connor Ryan was jealous because another guy is interested in me.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Shall we go in?”
When Gabe gets his wallet out to pay for the tickets, I try to stop him. I already feel guilty enough.
“No, I asked you out. I want to pay. Relax, I’ve got it.”
“Thank you,” I mumble.
“This movie has really great reviews,” he says while we wait in line. “Have you seen the trailer?”
“Honestly, I don’t keep up with new movie releases much.”
“Oh?”
He asks for two tickets to see something called Die My Love. I hope it’s a cheesy slasher. They're always fun on a first date.
Gabe thanks the person at the counter and hands me my ticket. “What kind of movies do you usually watch?”
“Me and Scout usually just watch old movies. Like cheesy ones that are so bad, they’re good. ”
“So, not like Casablanca old?”
“No, we watch stuff like that, too. But I mean more like Burlesque .”
“ Burlesque ? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that one.”
“Are you kidding?”
He laughs and shakes his head. We walk across the dated carpet of the old Cinemark to get our drinks and popcorn as we talk. For a second, it feels natural and I’m able to forget all about everything else and just be on a first date with a cute guy.
“Who’s in it?” he asks.
“Cher and Christina Aguilera.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Oh God, do they sing?”
My heart sinks. “Yes, of course they sing.” I try for jokey, but my tone comes out sharper and more defensive than I’d intended.
How dare he wrinkle his nose at Cher and Christina?
I love a cool New Wave band as much as the next guy, but those two ladies can belt out a show tune like nobody’s business.
“Huh. And you said it’s so bad, it’s good?”
I instinctively bristle. Now he’s insulted Cher. “Well, actually, Burlesque is more of an under-appreciated modern classic. Showgirls is so bad, it’s almost good.”
I’ve lost him. He’s looking at me like I’m babbling a load of nonsense. I wonder what his face would do if I started talking about men in pantyhose.
“Huh,” he says.
Luckily, the trailers are playing when we sit down, so it isn’t immediately obvious that we’re not talking. At least Die My Love should be a fun romp, right?
Wrong.
Die My Love is a hugely depressing movie about a woman slowly losing her mind in a remote house somewhere in the woods. Jennifer Lawrence is incredible, and I’ll never complain about being made to look at Robert Pattinson, but jeez, for a first date? Talk about mood killer.
We don’t speak again until we’re leaving the screen with our empty popcorn bins. He clears his throat.
“So, what did you think?”
My mouth goes dry as I think of something intelligent to say. “Jennifer Lawrence was great.”
“Wasn’t she?”
Gabe hurtles into a scene-by-scene breakdown of the performance while I nod along and try to look interested. As soon as he pauses to take a breath, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom.
He’s looking at his watch when I come back out.
“It’s still early. You wanna go for a pizza or something?”
I had thought he’d see that there was no spark, that the date is a dud. But, from the expectant way he’s looking at me right now, I guess not.
“Thanks, but … I have to read this chapter tonight for school.”
“Oh …” He rubs the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes.
I feel terrible. But what am I supposed to do?
“Well, we’ll have to catch up some other time,” he says.
“Yeah … sure.”
Fuck.