Add all that up and I think it’s maybe nine o’clock at the latest. I don’t have to be home till ten and honestly, if I’m late, what’ll Aunt Celia do? Ground me? I hardly leave the house as it is, except for, well, like now… so I guess I do have something to lose after all.
“Any place you’d like to go?” Jason asks.
“I don’t need to be back till ten,” I say. “What time is it now?” Smooth.
He laughs softly. “Eight-thirty.”
“What’s funny?”
“You have to be home by ten?”
A lot of answers occur to me. This is my first date… Maybe girls have earlier curfews than guys… I haven’t lived with Aunt Celia long so she doesn’t trust me yet, or maybe never will, it’s too soon to tell…
“Give me a reason to stay out later,” I say. I hear how this sounds… but instead of trying to clarify, I leave it alone to see what happens.
“How about we go to the Bluff?”
“What’s there?”
“Nothing, but it’s either sit there or sit somewhere else. If you’re still hungry—”
“No! The Bluff is fine. Not that I’ll be able to see a sunset or anything…”
The car turns.
“The sun already set. Parking on the Bluff is about who you’re with, not the view.”
“You park there a lot?”
“I wouldn’t say a lot.”
It’s not far. Soon we’re parked and the engine shuts off.
“Is that a new… is it a scarf?”
“I bought it today. How’d you know? You can’t have seen all my scarves yet.”
“They usually have a little braille flag sewn in on one end except this one doesn’t.”
I smile at this nice attention to detail, and what it means. I’d been worried he wasn’t much of a thinker or a noticer.
“Are you cold?”
“A little. It’s okay.”
“I’d put my arm around you to warm you up but the console’s in the way.”
Ummm…
“So…” he says. “Want to sit in the back?”
Oh boy.
“Won’t that look funny? Us sitting in the back?”
“Maybe if anyone was looking. There’re only two other cars here. One’s empty—probably hikers. The other one, well, they’re probably more worried that we can see them if you know what I mean. There’s a bench we could sit on, but it’s getting even colder out.”
“Backseat it is, then.”
I feel for the door handle, let myself out—he’s right, it’s getting colder—and I let myself in the back and close the door behind me.
I don’t like wondering if he’s going to kiss me. If he doesn’t, I’ll feel stupid that I thought he might. Yet he wouldn’t ask me to go into the backseat just to put his arm on my shoulder, right? It strikes me as funny that this is what I’m thinking about, not whether I want him to, because, I realize, of course I want him to. I mean, why wouldn’t I? Jason’s nice, and safe, and— “What are you smiling about?” he asks, playfully suspicious.
Was I smiling?
“If you prefer a frown, I’m not sure I can help you, but I can try.”
“No, smile’s good.”
He bumps his shoulder against mine then slips his arm around my shoulders.
“Pretty slick,” I say. “I bet you bump all the girls…”
Damn, that’s not how I thought it would sound.
“No, I just need to know the rules,” he says. “I’m guessing you have lots.”
“The list goes to infinity.” I lean into him a bit. It turns out it’s actually warmer, too, not just an excuse to touch.
“All right then, let’s hear it. Your rules, I mean.”
His voice is soft and low, with breath that has just a hint of garlic. I like it. Who’d have known? I turn to face him.
“I’m not really thinking about rules right now,” I say.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Well…”
I’m thinking it’s strange that I’m not thinking much. My mind is usually churning all kinds of nonsense, but it’s happily quiet now, soaking it in, enjoying itself for a change…
Chemistry.
That’s the word that escaped me this afternoon. What makes you talk to someone, to want to talk to them some more, or to feel their hand on your shoulder, even though you don’t really know them. It’s more than a kind or charming word from a stranger; it’s the right word, or words that play well with your words. I don’t know if Jason and I will be compatible as we get to know each other, but now, on the surface, we have chemistry.
“I can tell you’re thinking about something,” he prompts again, not impatiently.
I’m thinking how despite the fact that I just climbed into the backseat of a parked car with a senior I barely even know, in unfamiliar surroundings, I feel comfortable. Maybe it’s chemistry and intuition. It has to be, because I’m pretty short on facts.
I’m thinking I must be crazy but if I could see, I’d be the one taking the chance, leaning in to kiss, hoping it’s not too soon. But I can’t see so all I can do is… I slide my hand up to his collar to get a sense of where things are, and I tip my head and lean forward… If he doesn’t get it, I’ll have to walk my hand to his jaw and guide my— Something touches the tip of my nose. His nose.