t w e n t y - f o u r

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and i'll hold your hand
'till the very end, the very e n d . . .

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My very first date played out just like any other girl would imagine their first date to be. It was with Ben, of course. At precisely six o'clock on a Friday night, he picked me up and took me to a restaurant he claimed to have been his "favorite". God knows if he was even telling the truth about that one. We all know he lied about his feelings for me, so why not lie about his favorite food?

After dinner, which consisted of me gazing at Ben like I was in the presence of some celestial being and him casting his spell on me, he drove me home. He walked me up to my door, kissed me goodnight, and then left. I was reeling over the fact that I'd just gotten my first kiss on my first date with an upperclassmen. And not just any upperclassmen, but the hot commodity that was Ben Axford. He walked away with his classic, pantie-dropping smile in place, but little did I know that smile only meant his plan was finally in the works.

Obviously the only dating experience I've had was with Ben, and overall it wasn't the greatest experience. Even though our relationship was one big scheme, it still somewhat prepared me for future dates I didn't know I would have. Therefore, I was relatively calm when the weekend came and I was going out on a date with Ronnie.

I had Cheyenne with me in the morning before she had to go to work since she slept over, but she eventually had to leave me for the Saturday rush at the mall. She offered me as much advice as she could and picked out a few pieces from my closet that she thought I should wear. I ended up not going with any of them, keeping her updated through text as I got ready.

Dressed to go by seven o'clock, I was sitting on the edge of my bed, elbows resting on my knees and my eyes staring at the floor. All there was left to do was wait for Ronnie to come get me. My slip dress, chunky ankle booties and bomber jacket – an all-black ensemble – showed that I put some thought into my outfit, but not too much to the point where it was obvious. I had on my day-to-day minimal makeup which meant foundation, shimmery champagne eyeshadow, and mascara. I even went through the effort of contouring my face, thanks to Cheyenne incessantly texting me when she was supposed to be working. Meanwhile, my hair was in its usual state of being not quite straight, but not wavy either.

It wouldn't be my first time going out with Ronnie, but it was our first formal dinner date, I guess you could say. And as I was waiting for him, the minutes turning to hours when he said he was on his way, I found myself thinking of how far I'd come. A smile even crossed my face at a certain point.

Just a few months ago, I would never have expected myself to be in the position that I am. The Savannah back then would've panicked at the sheer mention of the word "date". She would've fought off any boy with her frigid demeanor and impossibly strong blockade she built around herself.

Now? I was feeling freer than I had in a long, long time.

With a promise to just let things happen and not put so much pressure on myself, as Cheyenne suggested, I dashed down the stairs when I got the text from Ronnie that he was at my house.

"Going out?" My dad called from the living room.

I stopped short when I came by the opening to the room and peeked in, seeing him on the couch watching a hockey game. "Yeah. Ronnie and I are going out for dinner, so I'll be back later on. Not sure what time," I told him.

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