18. Summer 19
Andrew is supposed to pick me up in half an hour for our date. I’ve already pinned my curls back into a half up-half down style that keeps my hair out of my face, and I’ve applied a light coat of mascara and a gold eyeshadow Rebecca bought me two years ago that I haven’t used till now. She told me it would bring out the green in my eyes, but I never had an occasion for it. It turns out she was right. I hope Andrew doesn’t think it’s over the top. I never wear anything more than mascara.
I have three different outfits spread out on my bed. Dani helped me pick out each one. She’s been living up to her promise to be there for me with these sorts of things.
It’s impossible to pick an outfit though because I have no clue what Andrew and I are doing tonight. I can go casual in shorts with an off-the-shoulder floral top or jeans and a lacy tank top. But I can also dress a little more formal in one of my favorite sundresses, which also happens to bring out my eyes.
I check my phone for the time and any texts from Andrew. I still have twenty more minutes until he’s supposed to pick me up. I haven’t heard from him for the past hour, and I have to wonder what he’s up to.
I shoot him a quick text.
Me
Can I have a hint of what we are doing tonight? The suspense is killing me and I need to know whether to go formal or casual
To my surprise, he responds a couple of minutes later.
Andrew
Wear something nice but comfortable. I can’t wait to see you
My heart flutters as I reread his text. “Dani!” I call out. “I need your help again.”
She comes in from her bedroom next door and stands in the doorway. “What’s up?”
“He told me to dress nice but comfortable. What does that even mean?”
She leans against the door jam. “You guys are probably going to dinner since he’s picking you up at five. Maybe it’s a nice place, but he has something else planned for after?”
I nod absentmindedly. “So, what should I wear? Are jeans too casual?”
Her eyes flicker to my bed again. “Go for the dress. You can always put spandex underneath and then, knowing you, you can do anything in a dress.”
I purse my lips as I consider her suggestion. “What about shoes? Oh gosh, I didn’t even think about shoes!” She begins laughing at me. “Why are you laughing? This is serious. Andrew is going to be here in—” I glance at my phone again “—nine minutes.”
She holds her hands out, giving me the universal calm down hand signal. ”Take a deep breath. First of all, shoes aren’t the make or break. Andrew is a guy. Do you think he cares what shoes you wear? He’s just going to be happy to be with you. Second of all, you have plenty of time. Andrew will wait for you if you aren’t ready.”
I let out a breath after realizing I’ve been holding it the entire time she’s been speaking.
Moving toward my closet, she asks, “What are your options for shoes?”
I flip on the light, and peer at my shoes sitting on the rack, blissfully unaware of the stress they’re causing me. “I have Birkenstocks, fancier sandals, or I could probably even pull off Converse with this dress.”
Dani’s face scrunches up. “I know sneakers and a dress is your style, but veto if he said to dress nice. I’d go with the nicer sandals.” I schlump my shoulders a little as I grab them out of the closet. “You better get going if you’re going to be dressed when he gets here.”
“You just told me I had time!” I shriek.
She smiles. “I’m giving you crap, but I still recommend at least getting your dress on.”
With that, she turns, putting an AirPod in her ear and walking back into her room.
I grab the dress off the bed and a pair of black spandex from my drawer full of running clothes. I slip the two on and begin to strap my sandals on when I hear the doorbell ring. That must be Andrew. He’s early!
I grab my purse from the hook on the back of my door and take one final look at myself in the bathroom mirror on my way down the hall. “Dani, he’s here. I’m leaving.”
She pokes her head out of her doorway, pulling an Airpod out of her ear again. “Have fun.” She smirks.
I rush out the door and swing it open to find Andrew standing on the porch with a bouquet of vibrant indigo flowers and dainty white baby’s breath. “Oh, Andrew, they’re gorgeous,” I exclaim, taking the flowers from his hands.
“You look…” he trails off, and I feel heat rushing to my cheeks. “Absolutely stunning.”
I’m blushing now. I try to play things cool and brush off the compliment before I get embarrassed and start acting weird. “Can I put these in a vase before we go?”
He shakes his head in approval and takes a step inside the house. “Of course. There should be a packet of flower food wrapped in the plastic that you can pour into the water.” He glides to my side, helping me find the packet and pouring it into the vase I just filled.
“I love how the bold color contrasts with the delicate baby’s breath. What kind of flowers are these?” I ask, gently lifting one of the indigo flowers.
“The woman at the store said they’re Bachelor Button flowers,” he chuckles a little. “Quite the name. She said men used to wear them to indicate their love for their beloved.”
I turn my head as I look at the flowers more. “That’s sweet. Where’s your flower?” I tease.
He quickly glances down at his bare wrist. “Will you look at the time! We are going to be late for our reservation. We better get going.” The mischievous smile spreading on his face is hard to resist.
I return his smile and nudge his shoulder with mine. “It sounds like we are going to dinner! Do I get to know where we are going now that we are together?”
He moves his head back and forth. “Absolutely not! You’ll see when we get there.”
As we walk out the front door, he leads me straight to his truck. “Ha! I know we are driving somewhere now!”
He rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t give anything away. I already told you I’d be picking you up today.”
I shrug. “You could’ve picked me up on foot.”
He opens the passenger side door for me, and I hop in. When he slides into the driver’s side, he presses a few buttons on the screen on his dash. “Do you want to play some music?”
I smile. “Definitely. You have so much to learn about music.”
“Hey, now! I may not be Rebecca, but I still listen to music. I think you’d even like my taste.”
I press my lips together, unimpressed. “All right, tell me a song to play, and we will put you to the test.”
“Look up ‘Girl on Fire’ by Kameron Marlowe. He’s a smaller artist with a lot of great songs, but this one reminds me a bit of you.”
I type the song title into my phone and queue it up. The first line alone sells me. His voice is smooth, and the lyrics are poetry. Chills grow on my arms. I continue listening as he tells the story of a young summer love between himself and a girl that he knew was going to do great things. He talks about trying to play it cool even though he doesn’t know what he’s doing and how his love for her never really faded.
“Which part reminded you of me?” I probe.
He turns right to exit the loop around the lake and head toward town. “It’s a combination of little pieces,” he explains. “The summer love, the girl on fire, who is you of course, and moonlight kisses in a Chevrolet bed, which I know I haven’t gotten yet, but I hope I do soon.” His dimple protrudes with his blushing smile.
I don’t know how to respond to that. I’m not smooth like Andrew. He has such a way with words. I like to read words. I even like to write words from time to time, but actually speaking them is a whole other issue. I open my mouth. Come on words. “I…I hope so too.”
I want to bury my head in my hands from my slow reaction time and awkward response, but a grin spreads on his face, and he reaches out to grab my hand on the center console, assuring me I said the right thing this time. It feels good.
“I have a song for you now, another song that reminds me of you,” I share, giddy with excitement. At least a song can show him how I feel in a much better way than I clearly can. “Can I queue it up?”
He nods. “Tonight is all about you. Go for it.”
“No,” I interject. “Tonight is about us.”
He squeezes my hand. “Us. I like the sound of that.”
The song begins, and I find myself growing nervous. I’m practically pouring my heart out to Andrew through this song, and I hope he likes it.
I glance over at him and catch him tapping his free hand on the steering wheel as Abby Anderson sings about how this boy makes her lose sleep and how terrifying her feelings are, but she doesn’t want to push him away because she wants to be with him. He’s smiling. Thank God!
The song ends, and I’m still watching Andrew intently. I wait for him to speak. He turns to me, and I’m instantly enraptured by those gorgeous blue eyes of his. “I like it. I could get used to this feeling too,” he gives me a cheesy grin, and I laugh.
“How much longer?” I pester him.
He tilts his head back and forth while he considers the question. “Pick four more songs, and we will be there.”
“You pick two, and I’ll pick two. That’s only fair.”
“Deal.”
We each pick songs with stories to tell. I play one first, a sad song about a husband who stops recognizing his wife in his old age but remembers the memories of their youth. “Every time I hear this song, I want to cry,” I tell Andrew
He scoffs. “Then why are you playing it for me?”
“Because it’s a beautiful story,” I burst. “Can’t you hear how strong their love is?”
When it’s his turn, he picks a more upbeat song, claiming, “This date needs to be salvaged from the depressing note you brought to it.”
“Whatever,” I cry, rolling my eyes as he smirks mischievously. Gosh, I want to kiss him right now.
We pull into the parking lot of a nice-looking restaurant. Andrew leaps out of the driver’s seat and runs around to open my door.
“Thank you.” I smile sweetly at him as he grabs my hand and walks me toward the front door. “What is this place?”
He swings open the heavy door. “You’re going to absolutely love it, Em.”
“So, biology, huh?” I ask Andrew between bites of the best brick-oven pizza I’ve ever had.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m going with for now.”
I nod my head pensively. “What do you want to use your biology degree for? I always pictured you doing something more creative.”
“Honestly, I pictured myself doing something different too until last year.” There’s a pause, heavy with the unspoken truth of what must’ve changed the trajectory of his decisions. “I’m thinking I’ll go to med school. I want to help people, and this seems like a good way to do it.”
I furrow my brows a little. “What do you think of your classes? Can you see yourself as a doctor, or is that just what you think you have to do?”
I can see there’s a twinge of dissatisfaction on his face at the way I’m questioning him, but I’m a little worried.
“The classes are fine, but it’s a lot of introductory classes freshman year. I’m sure you understand. They’re not all that relevant to what I’ll be doing yet.”
I finish chewing my cheesy bite of heaven before challenging, “You didn’t answer whether or not you could see yourself being a doctor.”
“I already told you it’s not what I pictured for myself before, but I’m starting to see it.” He grimaces.
“What did you picture yourself doing before last year?”
His face screws in concentration and he takes a bite of his pesto pizza to stall. This shouldn’t be a difficult question to answer, but I think the conversation is making him uncomfortable. He knows I don’t agree with following a career path just because he thinks it’s what he should do.
“I guess I always pictured myself as a writer. I wanted to write my own books one day.”
My face lights up. “Oh yeah! I remember you mentioning that before. I could see you doing that! Aw, Andrew, I love that for you! What’s holding you back from pursuing a writing career?” Recalling a conversation we had about this topic last summer, I guess, “Is it what everyone else says about how much money you’ll make?”
He tucks his chin into his shoulder, shying away a little. I rarely ever see Andrew in any state besides confident.
“Yeah, I’m not sure that it’s a good way to make a living. Life as a writer would be harder.”
I weigh out his response for a moment. “I mean, not all writers make it as huge authors, but it’s not like you couldn’t still make a living doing what you love. I’ve never read anything you’ve written, but I know you’d be a brilliant writer. A lot of people are having success with self-publishing these days.” As excitement builds, I nearly shout, “You could even do smaller, more steady gigs like writing for a magazine or something to help keep you afloat.”
A soft smile grows on his face. “You know, I wrote a lot growing up. I wrote a lot of short stories, but I never shared them with you because you were in most of them.”
My jaw drops to the ground, and my stomach stirs. I don’t have the soft fluttering of butterflies though. Instead, it’s the furious flapping of hummingbirds bouncing all around in my stomach. “Andrew, you know I have to read those stories now! Tell me about them.”
At my request, his whole body language changes. He is practically radiating light and excitement. “Well, they were mostly fantasy stories since that’s what I grew up reading. You frequently made an appearance as the princess who didn’t want to become queen. Instead, you helped this knight, me of course, on all his adventures. They grow to be friends, and the knight develops feelings for the princess after several adventures with her, but he can’t be with her because she’s royalty and, of course, she’s already been arranged to marry another man who is brave and rich and hand-selected by her family. It’s full of all the cliches, but it was still an escape.”
“How’d you get the idea for that?” I always thought I knew Andrew so well, but here I am discovering there’s a whole other side to him that I didn’t know existed. It’s not just a minor detail about him either. This is clearly something he’s extremely passionate about. I can see it on his face the moment he opens his mouth to talk about it.
He shrugs and casually wipes his hands on the napkin in his lap. “I took a lot of inspiration from other books I read, and I guess elements of my own life. It’s much easier to write about things you know. Wanting someone who doesn’t want you back was my reality, and it was easy to write about. Yes, I know now that wasn’t the truth, but in my head at the time, it was.”
“When was the last time you wrote?”
He purses his lips and looks up as he tries to recall. “I think I started a story when I first got to school, but I didn’t have any inspiration, so I gave up on it.”
I reach across the table to squeeze his hand. “Maybe all the excitement from this summer will give you some inspiration.”
A smile crosses his face. “Oh absolutely. I think the course of the stories will have to drastically change though. What do you think, should I have the princess call off the wedding, or should I kill off her husband-to-be?”
I laugh. “As great as it would be to read about his death, I think it will be much more meaningful if she realizes her feelings on her own, rather than it looking like she settled for the knight.” I watch as he starts to sit straighter and exude both joy and confidence. “I like writer Andrew. If this makes you as happy as you look right now, I hope you’ll consider pursuing it. Life is too short to not do the things you love to do.”
I can see my words strike him because he immediately bites his lip and nods, thinking through what this all means for him. “Will you keep me accountable for my writing, like I’m doing for you with your running? It’ll be the perfect trade-off.”
“Sounds like a deal to me,” I say, smiling.
I lick my fingers after polishing off my entire pizza. I love the fact that I’ve known Andrew for so long. He’s seen me eat before and knows what my appetite is like. There’s no judgment when he watches me eat the entire pizza, only a look of affection.
“Please tell me the night isn’t over after this,” I look at him with pleading eyes.
He beams. “Don’t worry, Em. I have more planned for us.”