Falling - A Pentatonix Story

n i n e t e e n

So many questions.

I decide to text him. He responds we're just going to a restaurant, but I need to bring a pair of shoes I can change into.

I go with flats, because Kevin and I are really close in height, and I bring converse to change into. I hate wearing flats.

Wait, what am I going to wear?

I search in my closet for date-appropriate wear, and then my suitcase from tour. I choose an olive green button up, unbuttoned, with a white top underneath. For pants I choose dark wash skinny jeans.

I then decide to ditch the flats, because really, if I hate flats, why should I wear them.

I also ditch the converse, and choose a pair of tan ankle-high boots.

Perfect. That was easier than I thought it would be.

Now I have to shower, do my make-up, and hair.

Should I do my nails?

Will he notice them?

Ugh, I'm way overthinking this. I decide not to do my nails, I never paint them anyways. They look fine.

---

It's 7:30, and I don't think my palms have ever been more sweaty when it comes to something non-Pentatonix related.

First shows of tour are horrifying.

I opted to straighten my hair, and I decided to just do a classic smokey-eye make-up look. Simple enough.

I want to call Kirstie to tell her how anxious I am right now, but then she'd know about the date. And then she'd tell Scott, Mitch, and Avi, who would freak out.

So basically, I can't call the person I tell everything to when it comes to boys.

Great.

I'm trying to decide what to do with my extra 30 minutes when the door rings. Has it really been 30 minutes already?

I check my phone, and it hasn't. He's fifteen minutes early, which isn't helping my nerves. I grab my phone (which has money in the back) and answer the door. I shouldn't need more than money and a phone, right?

Sigh.

Kevin looks great, he's wearing a grey button up and jeans. I'm glad we're both pretty casual.

"You look great," I smile. He's obviously nervous, too.

"As do you, but you always do. Shall we?"

"We shall. Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Kevin opens the door for me, and I climb in. He gets in as well, and starts the car. The awkward tension is building by the second, and I have no idea what to do about it. Kevin can feel it, too, and turns on the music.

"Why are we making this so awkward?" We say at the same time, and then laugh. Kevin and I used to hang out all the time and it was never awkward.

"We were never awkward when we used to talk all the time on tour," he says. Great, now he can read minds.

"I know. Let's just not have it be awkward? I don't know."

"Okay, we can try," he chuckles.

We continue to make small talk on our way to the restaurant, which is about fifteen minutes away, until we pull up.

I was wrong, I had never been here.

It was apparently some Italian place, similar to Olive Garden. That's how the menus made it seem, at least.