They both laughed.
It was lab day in chem, and Gael and Mason spent the whole of the period doing just about nothing with their microscope.
Instead, they talked about Gael’s mom—Mason urged him to listen to whatever she had to say, but Gael didn’t want to. He already knew enough.
And the reservations Mason had made for dinner with Anika that night were at 411 West, the pinnacle of the Chapel Hill dating scene. Gael chuckled to himself imagining gangly Mason sitting in front of a white tablecloth and trying to choose the right fork.
And finally, they talked about Cara.
“So you’re supposed to see her this afternoon?” Mason asked. “And it’s like, the afternoon?”
Mrs. Ellison walked past them, and for a second, Gael pretended to adjust his microscope.
“Yeah,” he said. “I didn’t know how to cancel. And I don’t know if I should.”
Mason raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure Sammy doesn’t like you?” he asked.
Was he? Gael wondered.
(And it made me so sad because I knew deep down that he shouldn’t be sure, that he still had a shot, but I also know that while Romantics fall hard, they take rejection even harder, especially at the beginning.)
Gael was sure of one thing—that Sammy had been right. Timing was everything. Maybe if things had happened sooner. Maybe if he hadn’t been distracted by Cara. But how was he supposed to compete with her high school sweetheart? Sammy loved John. That was so clear from all the times she’d talked about him before he’d broken up with her. How could Gael ever compete with that?
(Romantics love deeply—beautifully—but their fatal flaw is doubting deep down whether anyone can truly feel as strongly about them.)
“I don’t think it’s going to happen with Sammy,” Gael said finally.
Mason scrawled gibberish on their worksheet, pretending to do something as Mrs. Ellison looked over. After a minute, he shrugged.
“Cara’s cool. You do like her. So what if she’s not the one? Maybe she’s the one for right now?”
the pros and cons of dating gael, according to sammy’s scratched-out list
the kiss: part one
The afternoon rolled around, and no matter how nervous Gael was about it, it was time to see Cara. Her self-imposed month of singlehood was officially over, and he’d decided to take Mason’s advice. Why not? Cara made him happy, for the most part. Could you really ask for more than that?
It was an unseasonably warm day for November, and Cara had suggested a picnic on the lower quad.
As he walked across campus, students were tossing Frisbees and drinking out of cups that probably held way more than coffee, taking advantage of one of the last pleasant days of fall.
(Fun fact: No fewer than five future couples would meet on the quad that Friday. There was something about impending winter that made people pair off like their lives depended on it.)
Gael spotted Cara spread out in front of Wilson Library. She was sitting on a red blanket and was even wearing a polka-dot dress.
“Wow,” he said, as he walked up and sat down next to her. “You look great.”
“Don’t act so surprised,” she laughed.
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
She produced a pair of bagel sandwiches and pushed a warm paper cup into his hand. “I got us lattes from the Daily Grind,” she said cheerfully. “It’s not as good as Starbucks, if you ask me, but I remember you saying it was your favorite.”
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he said.
“It wasn’t trouble at all,” she said. “Here, have a sandwich.”
Gael took his gratefully and ate, eager for something to do. They chatted a bit, about the weather, about the coffee, about how the kids next to them were so bad at throwing Frisbees.
Eventually, the sandwiches were gone, and the lattes were finished, and there was nothing left to distract them anymore.
Cara scooted closer to Gael on the blanket, and he hesitated, but then he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned closer, the empty cup still in her hands, then she began to pick apart the cup in pieces, while Gael’s hand gently stroked her shoulder. He was unsure of where to go from there.
Finally, when the cup was disintegrated, Cara looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and they both leaned in, and their lips touched for the second time.
one-track mind
Frankly, I was just a teensy bit worried about the kiss. But when I took a little glance into Gael’s mind to see if I still even had a shot at making this work, here, readers, is what I saw: SAMMY SAMMY SAMMY SAMMY SAMMY SAMMY SAMMY . . .
And before you start feeling sorry for our dear Serial Monogamist friend, here’s what Cara was thinking: I’m sure I’ll like the next kiss better.
I’m sure we’ll grow to be really excited about each other.
I’m sure, at least, that I’ll have someone to hang out with these next few weeks . . .
Bingo! It looked like my plan wasn’t that far off track after all.
the kiss: part two