Chapter Nine
“Guy, anymore?” Mom asks, her hand poised threateningly over the homemade lemon meringue pie, which is my absolute favorite dessert and I’m hoping there will be some left for breakfast—don’t mock it ’til you try it.
Dessert aside, I have to say this has been the most excruciating tea in the history of teas. And if I never have to sit through another it will be too soon. First of all we had the twenty questions—there isn’t a thing Mom doesn’t know about Guy and his family. Then we had so many awkward silences it was embarrassing. Most unlike Mom. Especially with Uncle Peter there.
Now I know why I didn’t bring boys home in the past. I really don’t know how Rosie tolerated it. Though thinking back, I do remember Rosie giving Mom a talking to one time when Mom was so obviously impressed with this boy she was practically writing the wedding invitations.
I will admit, finding out Guy’s dad works for a TV company was pretty amazing. Maybe he can get tickets for us to watch a show being recorded.
“No thank you, Mrs Green.” He glances down at his watch. I think that’s a hint.
“We’ve got to go Mom or we’ll miss the start of the movie.” I jump up from my seat. “Bye everyone. Good to see you Uncle Peter. I won’t be late.”
Guy follows my lead and stands. You know, he’s got great manners. Mom and Dad should be very impressed. He even brought Mom some flowers when he arrived. Not only that Guy has all the right credentials: rich family, heading for an Ivy-League college and good career, virgin—okay obviously my mother doesn’t know that. Nor will she. Duh. Of course she does because she asked he was at the meeting the other night.
Guy’s car is parked at the end of our drive and when we’ve reached it I look back toward the house where Mom is standing by the window waving. I wave back then quickly close the door, sinking into the leather seat and wriggling around until I’m comfortable. I’ve never known an eighteen year old guy have a flash car like this before. Talk about how the other half live. And I bet his house is a mansion too, unlike ours.
“I’m so sorry for putting you through all that,” I say once Guy pulls away from the side of the road. “All those questions. Mom excelled herself tonight.”
He reaches over and rests his hand on mine, and my heart begins to zip-zap all over the place. Then, suddenly he snatches his hand away and places it back on the steering wheel.
Why did he do that? Ah. The handbook. No touching. This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.
“It was fine. I like your parents. They’re cool.”
Cool? What is he on? Cool is not a word any of my friends have ever used to describe my Mom and Dad before. Not that they’re awful or anything. Just a bit boring and parent-like. Now if you want cool parents then look no further than Maddie’s—even if Maddie can’t talk about sex with her mom.
“I’ll take your word for it. And bringing flowers was definitely a smart move. Mom’s a sucker for anything like that.”
“I didn’t do it to get on her good side.” He sounds annoyed I would even suggest it, but come on. Why else do you do that sort of thing?
“Not even a little bit?” I tease. He visibly bristles.
“No. It’s polite to take a little gift when you’re invited places. I always do.”
Well according to that it sounds like I haven’t been brought up properly. Which is just not true. I do know how to behave, even if I don’t shower my host with gifts every time I call around for a visit.
For the next little while we travel in silence and I focus my attention on the cars parked in their driveways as we pass them. A couple of times I sneak a peek at Guy, but his eyes are firmly fixed on the road ahead and his chin juts out in a funny sort of belligerent way. I’ve never noticed it before. I’m beginning to suspect I’ve ruined the evening before it’s even properly started. Which is simply ridiculous, childish and pathetic. And I’m far too mature to let it continue.
“Hey, Guy,” I say brightly. “Fancy stopping at Starbucks on the way? I could murder a frappuccino.” He glances down at his watch and frowns.
“We don’t have time. But we can go after the movies. Okay?”
“Sure. As long as I’m not too late home.”
Shut up. Why do I always do it? At my age you don’t say you have to be in early. Arrggggh. What is it with me and this transformation? It’s playing havoc with any rational thought that enters my head. And turning me into my mother. If I’m not careful I’ll soon be buying sensible shoes and practical clothes.
“Me too. I’ve got a chemistry test tomorrow and I’d hate to fall asleep over my Bunsen burner.” He glances in my direction, grins then resumes watching the road.
He either means it, which is a huge worry, or he’s saying it to be kind and make me feel better. I prefer the latter.
“What movie are we going to see?” You’d have thought I’d have asked before now, but to be honest it completely slipped my mind. And I don’t actually care. As long as it’s not that new sci-fi wanna-be Star Wars movie just released. I can’t remember what it’s called but it’s got Mars in it. Or is it Pluto? Whatever, I hate that sort of movie.
“Jupiter Force.” That’s the one. Shit. “Is that okay?”
“Um, yeah. Great.” Well, I did say I wasn’t really bothered. And it might be okay. I’m prepared to give it a chance. “As long as I can choose next time.” Like there’s going to be a next time after a nearly argument and a misunderstanding. And that’s before we’ve even got there.
“It’s a deal.”
I spend the remainder of the journey, which is all of two minutes, debating which movie I’ll take him to. Should I go for something funny? Which is my usual preference. Or what about something romantic? Nah. I can’t hack that. Or something scary so we can hold hands and snuggle up close? Would that be classed as exceptional circumstance in the handbook?
***
“Now what?” Guy says turning to me as we see flashing red letters on the overhead screen saying that Jupiter Force is sold out. “I was so looking forward to seeing it.” He looks really dejected.
“Yeah, me too.” I shake my head and try to look as sad as him. But it’s hard. “Let’s go to something else. What about the one based on that Stephen King book?” A snuggle up scary movie, if ever there was one.
“You like that sort of thing?” His voice is a mixture of amusement and disbelief.
“Sure. I love his books and most of the movies have been really good. Don’t you like him?” Hope I’m not stepping too far away from my newly cultivated image. I don’t want to blow everything.
“He’s okay. Not my first choice, but I’m game if you are.” He shrugs.
After buying the tickets we head for the popcorn and buy a very large, as in the largest, tub. At last. Something we’re in accord about. I toy with asking for one of those ice-creams covered in chocolate and nuts as well, but decide he might think me greedy. Especially as we’ve only just eaten tea.
“Shall we sit in the back row?” he whispers in my ear as we walk in and see the advertisements already playing. “There are a couple of empty seats up there.”
Back row. Like he needs to ask. Things are definitely looking up.
The film starts pretty much as soon as we sit down, so no time for any cozy head-next-to-head chatting. And the popcorn is on the armrest between us. I think about moving it onto my lap which means Guy would have to lean over every time he wants some, but I don’t want him to think I’m taking it so I can eat it all. Of course, I could place it in his lap then I’d have to lean over and who knows what might happen when I’m fumbling in the dark and not concentrating where my hand is going because my eyes are glued to the screen. Trouble is if I do that he might go bouncing up on stage at the next VC meeting dragging me with him to confess all my impure thoughts—something to be avoided at all costs. I didn’t realize popcorn could be at the centre of such monumental decisions. Maybe it’s for the best if I leave it where it is.
I reach into the tub to grab a handful, except my hand isn’t the only one in there.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“No worries,” Guy replies, quickly taking his hand out of the tub. You know what, I can see me and the Handbook coming to serious blows if this is how it’s going to affect any physical contact between us.
The movie sucks me in almost straight away and before I know it the credits are rolling and I suddenly remember Guy is sitting beside me.
“Starbucks?” Guy asks as we leave the movies.
Before I have the chance to do anything other than nod he starts to walk down the street in the direction of Starbucks which is only half a block away.
It’s fairly packed when we get there, but I spy a table in the corner.
“I’ll grab us somewhere to sit,” I say. “Can you get me a caramel frappuchinno please.”
As he strides toward the counter I suddenly panic that I didn’t offer any money to pay for it. The last thing I want is for him to think I’m a freeloader. Mind you I did pay for the popcorn. Then again he did pay for the tickets.
From where I’m sitting I get a clear view of him from behind. You know, he definitely has a good butt. In fact he’s pretty well stacked in every department. Well, every department that I’ve been able to see. Of course, now I’m in the VC admiring from afar is the only thing I will be doing.
He seems to be lining up for ages, during which time I’ve scrutinized everyone in the place, bitten my thumb nail—which I’m really cross about—and made a tiny hole in my top from pulling a long thread.
“Sorry it took so long,” Guy says when he finally gets to the table. “There’s a new guy working and it took him ages to work out what went into each thing.”
A new guy eh? I wonder if it’s the guy Amy was talking about? Although that was days ago so you’d have thought he’d have learnt how to do everything by now.
“That’s okay.” I take a long sip of my ice cold drink. “Mmm. Well for a new guy he did just fine. You know I’m definitely addicted to these. I could drink them every day and still not be fed up.”
Guy laughs, and takes a sip from his mug containing what looks like ordinary coffee.
“I’m not keen. I prefer my coffee straight.” He definitely needs educating in the ways of caffeine—and I’m just the girl to do it.
“Are you sure I can’t tempt you with a sip?” I wave my plastic cup under his nose, but he shakes his head and laughs.
“Thanks but no.” He places his mug on the table and gazes at me in a sort of soppy way. “You’re so sweet, Suzy. You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve liked anyone as much as I like you.”
Wow. Where did that come from? And fancy him calling me sweet. That’s got to be a first.
“Thanks. I like you too.” Even if you do have lousy taste in movies and are a bit too parent-friendly for your own good. Not that it matters. Don’t they always say opposites attract?
“Excuse me,” says a soft, and vaguely familiar, male voice to the side of us. We both turn to look.
Oh.
My.
God.
It can’t be.
Quick, someone wake me before this gets totally out of control.
“Yes?” says Guy.
“Aren’t you Suzy Green?” the voice replies, ignoring Guy and looking directly at me with the same twinkling brown eyes and cute smile that haunted my dreams for such a long time.
Crap. Crap. And a million times Crap.