All American Boys

12. Young Wild American

"I'm not going out with anyone," I denied. "Isaac and I just. . . talk and hang out."

"And what about Cyril?" Emily said. "You told me yourself that the both of you even kissed!"

I only rolled my eyes and refused to answer her.

Soon Saturday came around and the hour was approaching. Mom was at work, per usual, leaving me alone in the house. I had no idea where Isaac was taking me, and I didn't want to ask, afraid that if I pestered him with too many questions he'd call it off altogether.

I spent half an hour getting ready. I wasn't sure where we were going at such a time, but I thought something I'd wear for a date was a rather safe option. In the end, I settled for a black floral shirt decorated with palm fronds and pink hibiscus prints, and a pair of chino shorts to go with it.

Isaac pulled over in front of my house a few minutes before six, but I was ready. I headed outside to be greeted by a shiny two-seater Maserati. Right. His family was rich after all. Just like the rest of them. I didn't know if he was trying to impress me, but flaunting off your father's wealth to me wasn't going to get you anywhere.

"Oh, Alex," he said in a high pitched voice, mockingly batting his eyelids. "You look amazing today!"

I rolled my eyes.

"If that's your best impression of Shoshana then you need to take some acting classes," I said, settling into the passenger seat.

The young man only snorted.

"I missed you," he said, a shy smile on his lips.

I couldn't help but feel a warmth rise up to my cheeks.

"Me too," I mumbled.

With that he drove off, down Beersheba Street, turning left into Magdala Lane. I had no idea where he wanted to go.

"I like your shirt by the way," he complimented me, his eyes still on the road. "You look really cute in it."

He wore a light blue shirt with sheep motifs, those fluffy white animals patterned across the fabric. His hair was combed up like it usually was, a pair of aviators sitting on the bridge of his nose, shielding his eyes from the golden rays of the dying summer sun.

"Where are we going?" I asked him as he drove out of town, up the winding road taking us up the hills.

"There's this nice spot I know," he said. "I thought we could talk in private."

"Sounds nice," I replied, smiling at him. "I always like talking to you."

I noticed a rosy hue colour his cheeks.

"I like talking to you too," he said.

"Nice ride," I added trying to fill in the awkward silence. "Why'd you take the bus if you have a car?"

"I don't like driving it," he answered, biting his lip. "I just don't like it."

I thought it was strange, but I didn't want to ask further.

"My uh," he continued. "Dad bought it for me after he pushed me down the stairs. Probably because he feels guilty, but whatever."

It finally made sense now. Aaron did mention that Isaac wasn't even there at practice on the date where he supposedly got injured during a touchdown. It was then when Isaac probably realised he had said too much.

"Isaac," I said, looking at him. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, it's nothing," he said, a smile suddenly appearing on his lips as he shook his head. "It's okay."