Chance of Love

Chapter 3

Mark did want to see Amanda again. They went to a movie a couple nights later. She was glad they picked a comedy. She found out that Mark had the same sense of humour as she did.

As Mark drove her home later, he asked Amanda if she wanted to go out for dinner that Friday night.

"Sure. I would love to go," she answered, feeling her heart start to beat a little faster.

"Awesome." Mark smiled. "I'll take you to my favourite restaurant."

Amanda smiled. They talked about the movie until they got to her house.

As Mark parked the car, he said,"I'll pick you up at 7:00 on Friday, okay?"

"Okay," she replied, suddenly feeling awkward.

Mark grabbed her hand and gently caressed it with his fingertips. Before she had time to react, he leaned toward her and kissed her on the cheek.

"Goodnight," he said softly into her ear.

The warmth of his breath sent shivers down her spine. She barely managed to whisper "Goodnight" herself. She squeezed Mark's hand and undid her seat belt.

"See you Friday," she said, waving at him after she got out of the car.

Mark waved and winked at her, which made her smile. After he drove away, she went into her house and got ready for bed, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to get to sleep for a long time. She was right about that much, at least.

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Amanda found herself thinking about Mark at many intervals during the next few days. She thought about him when she was monitoring the halls at lunch hour and when she was marking test papers. Her mind was filled with images of him and things he had said. At times she wondered if he was a figment of her imagination, brought on by extreme loneliness and desperation. She attempted to convince herself that Mark was wasting his time with her. But why would he? He was an intelligent person; therefore it stood to reason that he must see admirable qualities in her. Her friends had been telling her for years that she deserved a nice guy. Mark was a nice guy. She hoped she was nice enough for him. He already thought she was intelligent and funny. Maybe she'd lived too sheltered of a life and that was why she had so many doubts about herself. She had to stop over-analyzing everything all the time. Nevertheless, by the time Friday rolled around, she was a nervous wreck.

After school was finished in the afternoon, Amanda went home and took a long bath. She hoped the hot water would calm her nerves. It did, for a while. Until she had to decide what she was going to wear. All she could decide on at the moment was that she hated everything in her closet.

Slamming her closet door, Amanda stomped into her music room and proceeded to play her favourite Beethoven sonata on the piano. She soon became lost in the familiar chords of the music, concentrating on letting go of her tension while expressing the beauty of the music through her fingers.

Fifteen minutes later, with the final chord still ringing in her ears, Amanda went back to her bedroom and slowly opened her closet. There. The purple pantsuit. Why hadn't she seen it before? It was perfect. She loved purple.

After painting her nails light mauve colour, she considered her hair (something she rarely did). It fell down her back in a solid brown mass of straight tresses. It was always hot in the summer and dry and fizzy in the winter. Luckily, it was late spring so she could leave it down. She had the impression that Mark liked long hair that was loose. She decided to wash her hair and put a few curlers in it to give it a little wave.

After meticulously styling her hair, she realized she looked like a 12 year-old going to her first dance. On second thought, the curls were only on the ends of her hair, not anywhere else and with her hair pulled back she could put on a bit of makeup.