It was raining the day the boys came to pick us up. Thunder rumbled in the distance ominously. I dreaded getting out of bed, but the thought of seeing you pushed me out the door.
Even though Mother Nature and common sense were against it, you insisted that we wait for the boy to arrive.
“It’s cold and wet,” I pointed out. “I bet they don’t even want to go out today.”
Unfortunately, I was wrong. Evan was the first one at my door with a rose in hand and an umbrella in the other. Somehow, I knew he would have stood out there even without an umbrella, letting the rain carelessly fall on his shoulders.
He charmed my mother effortlessly with his fake smile and superficial manners. She took the rose from him and placed it in an empty wine bottle.
“I forgot where the vases were,” she said sheepishly as she hastily filled the bottle with water. “Excuse the mess.”
Not that he noticed. At this point in my life, my mother was deep in the bowels of her depression, leaving me stretched thin between keeping house and completing schoolwork. Most days she could barely get out of bed. It was a wonder how she still kept her job, but one look at her face told me all that I needed to know. Sometimes I wished I had a mother who cared rather than one who was stunningly gorgeous.
After all, Evan was still staring at her, mesmerized by the beauty that earned her runner-up to Miss Japan in 1994. He had that expression on his face that everyone else did when they met her for the first time. It was the same mixture of surprise and wonder, much like what I imagined happened to the faces of those witnessing a miracle.
Shamelessly, his eyes darted from me to her in naked disbelief.
“Yes, we’re related,” I said before he made a fool of himself. “She is my biological mother and no, I’m not adopted.”
“I was going to say that you look nice. That dress suits you,” he said diplomatically.
“Thanks.” I did feel pretty in it because of the way you were looking at me, but I tried to convince myself that you were being nice. I lived eternally eclipsed by my mother’s shadow so I thought beauty would never touch me.
“You look cute together,” you whispered to me.
Did we? Evan was still gaping at my mother, jaw hanging open like the hinges of a broken door. Yet another victim claimed by the Masako Yamashita effect.
I wore this dress for you, the person I truly liked. I hated this charade and the date we would have to go on later, but I played along because it made you happy.
Harry came to the door shortly after and soon you were preoccupied. Because he had the nicer car, he drove all of us, with Evan riding shotgun. You would have sat in front, but my “date” was drooling over the make of the vehicle, babbling on and on about mileage and the leather of the steering wheel.
I could think of nothing more boring, but I was the one counting raindrops on the window to pass the time. I watched them race on the glass and fall into each other like clumsy clear children. I was so preoccupied that I nearly didn’t notice your hand slip into mine.
It should have clicked then what your true intentions were having the boys take us out, but I found myself distracted again. Maybe it was because I was upset with my mother earlier, but I wanted to smack myself for not noticing how beautiful you were when you stepped into the house. It was hitting me at full force in the car just how much effort you put into your appearance.
You wore a white dress dotted with blue flowers that made your leftover summer tan glow. Your golden hair hung in loose waves around your shoulders and I was strangely reminded of a runaway princess fleeing from her castle. To top it off, your eyelids glowed with a blue that matched your irises.
“How do I look?” You mouthed the question to me, careful not to let the others hear.
Ethereal. Stunning. Too good for any of the boys on this date.
I kept those thoughts to myself, instead choosing to mouth “hot.” You giggled, pleased with my response. “Hot” was better than “pretty” in your vocabulary.
Harry parked in front of the theater, showing off his car to anyone who passed by. Evan opened the door and offered his arm, continuing his gentlemanly act. I hesitated briefly before I took it. I couldn’t help but feel that at any moment, he would pull another prank on me or utter an inappropriate remark.
Nevertheless, I allowed him to escort me into the theater and buy the tickets and popcorn. I kept staring back at you. It was as if my brain couldn’t process how good you looked.
And I wasn’t the only one. Harry had his arm around you and a dazed expression on his face. I couldn’t tell if he was utterly mesmerized by you or simply high as hell. There was no difference. Even Evan was sneaking peeks at you when he thought I wasn’t looking.
The boys ended up picking a horror flick to watch. We picked seats near the middle and finished half our popcorn watching previews. You were sitting on my left while Evan took the seat on my right. I sipped my strawberry soda while the movie played, half paying attention to the film and half paying attention to you.
It was clear what the intentions of our dates were when they chose the movie. They were hoping that we’d be scared into their arms, to hold hands, or possibly do more under the pretense of comforting us. I heard them whispering about it before, catching snippets of their hushed conversation in the car.
I didn’t have the heart to tell them that it was a lazy trick, one that wouldn’t work on me because I’ve watched bloodier films and didn’t want to touch Evan unless I absolutely had to. Lucky for me, he seemed too engrossed in the movie to make any attempts to flirt.
But Harry had other ideas. He tried to hold your hand three times already, his fingers retreating weakly with every attempt.
We were approaching a frightening part of the film and my pulse raced with the rising tension. It was a classic horror movie scene where the killer was chasing the last surviving victim. Predictably, the victim was making a fool of themselves, tripping and falling at the most inopportune times. The killer was inches away from grabbing them and slitting their throat, an exciting part of the chase that was often my favorite part of these films.
Evan grabbed my hand, fingers clenched with anxiety. I tried not to recoil from the sudden touch, letting his hand rest over mine. Not everyone had the same appetite for horror that I did.
Unexpectedly, you also grabbed my hand and linked our fingers. You left Harry to hold on to his armrest for comfort. A dozen questions ran through my head, none that I could answer.
By the science of horror movie logic, the victim escaped the killer unscathed. But even when that moment passed and the credits rolled, you and Evan still held onto my hands.
I didn’t know what I was feeling. I thought we were both under a weird spell, with the magic coming from the space between our hands. You snapped out of it first when you saw Evan’s hand covering mine on the other side.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
“It’s ok,” Evan and I said at the same time. I gave him a weird look. Since when did either of us need his permission to hold hands?
“Shall we get dinner?” Harry’s timing was impeccable.
“Sure,” I replied, grateful for a way out.
We piled into his car, this time with you sitting shotgun and Evan next to me. It was awkward, so much so that I pressed myself against the car door and anxiously waited to get out.
“Look,” he said. “Thanks for going on this date with me. I know we don’t have a good history, but it means a lot to me that you’re willing to give me a chance.”
He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I also know you’re not doing this for me. You agreed to this because of Elle, right?”
My surprise must have shown because he laughed. “Look, it’s obvious. I respect you trying to support her. I’d do the same for any of my friends. But I want you to know that I like you.”
He was lying. Or at least, I thought he was. Maybe if I had feelings for him, I would have believed his words, but I knew better than that. No, what Evan saw me as was access to you and other beautiful women in my life. It was no different than that day on the beach.
I could have told him to piss off. I was tempted to do so when we grabbed burgers at the diner and I purposely chose to sit next to you. But when did doing that get me anywhere in the past?
Before Harry dropped us off at my house, I pulled Evan aside.
“Let’s take it slow. Can we try being friends before being anything else?”
I wasn’t interested in anything close to what I was proposing, but I knew the game he was playing. He wasn’t the only one who could fake his feelings.
He was more than happy with what I asked of him, but looking back, I wondered if I had done the right thing by leading him on, especially because of what happened after.
Once they drove away, you planted a blueberry-scented kiss dangerously close to my lips. Before I could ask you about it, you ran back to your house.
At least I knew one thing was real.
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