Chapter 21
I had plenty of time after study session to shower, attempt curls, not that the Georgia humidity will allow them to stay and put on some light makeup. Nothing much in case I sweat it off. The thing about fall in the south is it can still be 80 degrees in October. I’m hoping for 76 tonight. Completely ready to go, there is only one small hiccup. I have no idea what to wear. I’ve been staring at my closet for 20 minutes.
“Mia, are you ready to come down?” Mom calls from outside my door.
“I can’t go.” Sometimes I can be dramatic if I want. The door swings open and Mom laughs. She actually laughs.
“Hold on. I need my camera.” She goes to find her phone.
“Mom, stop. What is so funny?” I whine.
“I just want to capture all your firsts, and not being able to decide on an outfit for a date is a big first.” She says, her voice serious.
“Can you stop mocking me and come help?” I toss my hands up.
“Okay, calm down. You have done this before.” She moves to look at my options and starts pulling things out.
“I have, but not with Ben and at school I never have to think about clothes. I’m always in a uniform. Private school has ruined me.” I pout.
“I hadn’t thought of that. Stunting you in fashion is unacceptable” she pauses rubbing her chin. “We will have to unenroll you immediately.”
“Mom!”
“I’m kidding. Here.” She hands me an outfit that I swear she pulled out of thin air: a pair of black flare pants I forgot I had and a thin emerald green baggy sweater. It is thin enough I won’t be hot, but long sleeves so I won’t be cold if the wind picks up later at night. “Hold please.” She leaves my room and comes back with a long gold necklace and matching earrings.
“How?” I gape.
“How what?” she asks nonchalantly.
“For 20 minutes I tried. Then then you come in and in two minutes I have an outfit?”
“It’s a gift,” she shrugs. “Now get dressed. Your date will be here soon.” She goes to the door then turning says, “Mia.”
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Smile,” and she snaps a picture of me standing in my pink bathrobe, outfit in hand, and bolts. I hear her laughing all the way out of the apartment.
Despite my mortification, I dress and am ready to go by 5:15. Unable to sit still, I head downstairs. I walk slowly in case Ben is one of those get there super early types. Plus, I want time to peek out one of the front windows. We didn’t discuss logistics of whether he would pick me up out front or at the reception desk. Man am I nervous. Looking out the front window, I don’t see him. Checking for his car I realize now; I don’t know what Ben drives. Anytime he has walked me to the lot, I leave first.
“Boo!” I jump and scream. Ben is behind me, laughing, but catches me mid-panic attack.
“Why would you do that?” I mumble, holding my hand to my chest trying to steady my breath.
“I’m sorry, but you just looked so cute watching for me. I couldn’t resist.” He laughs.
“I wasn’t watching for you,” I grumble.
“No?” he questions.
“No. I was checking for guests.” We both know I’m lying.
“Sure Dorothy.” I look at him properly now. He is wearing jeans. I’ve never seen him in jeans. He has them paired with a plain long sleeve navy tee. Blue is definitely his color. Butterflies flutter in my belly. He puts his hands in his pockets. “Shall we?”
“Yeah, sure.” I’m really going to have to stop speaking in monosyllabic words if I want to get through this night.
Once we are out the front doors, Ben leads us to an old school blue truck. It stops me in my tracks. It has to be vintage. I don’t know much about trucks, but it is some type of Ford. I think I would have noticed a truck like this in the school lot. “Wait. This is what you drive?” Like a gentleman, he moves to open the passenger door.
“Not usually, it’s actually Brody’s. He let me borrow it.” He explains. I get in. Impressed.
“Nice touch.” I comment. He closes the door and rounds the car. When he gets in, the curiosity has gotten the better of me. “Not that I’m complaining, but why did you have to borrow your brother’s truck? What do you normally drive?”
“I drive a motorcycle.” He waits for me to react. It isn’t that surprising. Of course he does. “And I didn’t think that your mom would, or any mom would love the idea of her daughter on the back of a motorcycle. So, I borrowed Brody’s truck.” He says waiting for my response.
“Very thoughtful, Benedict.” I buckle in.
“Wait. Benedict. Are we back to that? Because I can go get the motorcycle.” He panics.
“No, no.” I laugh. “It was just such a gentlemanly move. I thought it called for your full name. Besides, you call me Dorothy, I need something else other than Ben to call you.”
“Mhhh,” he thinks, “that is an opening.”
Tonight is going to be great. Any nerves have disappeared by the time we get to the event parking. Ben was right on the money getting the truck. One because my mom would have absolutely flipped had he shown up on a motorcycle, and two, the truck fits into the fall aesthetic. I feel like I’m in a country music video, but not in a bad way.
Event parking is in a cleared-out field lined with bales of hay. The festival itself is set up just off town by the Christmas tree farm. The family that owns the farm offered to host the festival when it got too big for the town square. It’s still early and not quite dark yet, but I can still see the lights of the booths and entrance. Ben gets out and opens my door again. I’ve never had a boy open my door. Tyler sure didn’t. That will be the last thought of him tonight, but it does make me feel better about letting my guard down.
Once I slide out of the truck, purse slung over my shoulder, Ben stops and looks a little awkward.
“You okay?” I question. Is he rethinking this? Is the country living already too much? Briarwood certainly doesn’t have any cow fields.
“Yeah,” he smiles, “but I want to ask you something.” He does the classic hand-through-hair move that probably could get me to say yes to a lot of things. “Well, this is a date.”
“Yes, we have confirmed that. Several times.” I can’t help but tease.
“Well, sometimes on dates, a guy and a girl might touch.” Where is he going with this? I turn my head and look at him, and he quickly clarifies. “I mean all innocent. Like a guy might say put his arm around his date on a hayride or hold her hand as they walk through booths.” Is Ben asking permission to hold my hand? He had no problem grabbing my face in Anatomy but asks to hold my hand. “Would this date fall into that category of dates, if it’s not I am okay with that, but if it is…”
“It is.” I don’t have to think about it. The relief on his face is clear.
“Cool” this Ben is different. Normally he is confident and flirty but respectful date Ben is awkward, and it’s melting my heart. “Lead the way, my lady.” He gestures to the entrance, and I move ahead. He quickly matches my pace, and after a few more steps, slips his hand in mine. His hands are much larger than mine. I have to stretch my fingers, but it feels nice. This is already ranking high on my list of dates, and we haven’t even gotten through the gates yet.