For a moment, I just stand there like a doofus, stunned. Girl’s got balls. I watch her go down the steps, her purple scarf swinging. I actually wanted to kiss her by myself, but I was worried about what she would think. Maybe there are societal rules, and it’s not proper to kiss on the first date or something.
Stop rationalizing. You’re just a wimp. And you wanted to do more
I turn to walk back to my apartment. A cold wind blows, burning my cheeks. I pull out a pair of cheap gloves I bought on Canal Street for two bucks.
It’s a long, cold, and solitary walk to my apartment. When I get home, it’s only nine. That’s what I get for being timid and scheduling such an early date. Shit. This girl’s turned me into a homebody.
Normally, at this time, I would be out at a bar or at a friend’s house, swilling beer. I wouldn’t be alone on my gray, tattered couch watching The Voice and thinking over all the things I messed up on this date.
Suddenly, my phone rings. I pray that it’s salvation in the form of a party at Dexter’s house. It is.
“Hello?”
“Hey, man. I got a great party going on. Are you still on the date with that girl?”
“Nah. I could come over.”
“Then get your ass over here now, man, and tell me about it.”
Dexter lives in a building not too far from mine, so I just walk. I immediately know where it’s coming from when I hear Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd blasting from an open window. Dex is a big classic rock fan.
I pull open the door and survey the scene. A nerdy guy is making out with some buxom redhead on the couch. Ah, the magic of beer goggles. Dex should really sanitize that thing. Who knows how many people have gotten their fluids on that couch?
He comes over to me and hands me a beer.
“So how was the date? Did you get some action?”
I stare at him. He knows this stare. It’s the shut-up-before-I-slap-you stare. I’ve used it plenty on him.
“Okay, fine. What happened on your date?” He still has a kind of suggestive tone, but at least he’s being subtle.
“We went ice skating, then went to eat. Yes, I did get ‘some action’ as you so eloquently said. She kissed me. But I don’t know if she likes me.”
“She kissed you. What is there to doubt?”
“I don’t know. She just seemed kind of preoccupied, like her mind was somewhere else.”
“Well, she likes you. Are you going to go out with her again?”
“I suppose.”
“What’s ‘I suppose?’ Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“So then go out with her again.” A cute brunette with hipster glasses passes by. “Now I’m going to get some real action. You do that too.”
I survey the room. None of these girls are half as pretty as Aria.
You are so whipped.
One girl catches my eye from across the room. She has light, almost white blonde hair in a pixie. She’s cute. In a little fairy-ish kind of way.
She comes up to me. “I have a question for you,” she says.
“Ask away, my little friend.”
“How is it possible that one guy who isn’t that good looking and has no game whatsoever knows so many girls?”
“I don’t know. Dex is magical.”
She laughs. “I’m Anna.”
“Austin.”
We talk and flirt for a little bit. Then she leans in and kisses me. Just like that.
She kisses better than Aria.
Then she takes my hand and leads me to a bedroom.
Oh, shit.
YOU ARE READING
Catered
Teen FictionAustin's a cater waiter working for New York City's top catering service. Aria's the cynical stepdaughter of one of the city's richest men, the daughter of a father she never knew. When her mother married Ned Rochester, they traded in a small house...
