The Prom Queen's Date

Chapter Eleven

Right from the get-go, Friday was a busy and eventful day. As Sabrina promised, people were getting over Maisie's tweets and the fact that I didn't kiss her on the first date and 'ran away' from her after she kissed me on the cheek. It appeared that after Parker's little speech in the gay-straight alliance society, they felt bad enough to go online and respond to Maisie's tweets saying she 'wasn't owed a kiss' even though Maisie never implied that. Another tweet said, 'maybe she's a fast walker'. The second was my favourite response because it came from Jack, and he garnered over thirty likes on his post.

The next line of tweets from Maisie went on to state that she was of course, all about consent and that her tweets represented the situation in a bad light. During the school day, she avoided eye contact and didn't come to sit next to me in English Literature. It made sense, according to Anna, because in Maisie's head, she was the one rejected and therefore, if I wanted to go out again, it was up to me.

The tension got so tense that instead of people asking me why I didn't kiss her or why did I run away after, they asked me when was I going to text her or if I planned to at all. Maisie encouraged this behaviour by tweeting exactly the same question with a load of frowny faces and posted pictures of the tv screen at the bowling alley with our assigned nicknames.

During chemistry, I slipped out of the classroom to go to the bathroom to have a break and spent way too much time washing my hands.

Someone was in the bathroom stall, and it was far too quiet meaning that they wouldn't use the toilet until after I had left the room. Which was far enough but that wasn't the plan for at least another three minutes or so. They gave up and flushed the toilet, exiting the stall a moment later, and pink hair of all things caught my eye through the mirror.

"Hey . . . Maisie." The foam in my hand ran out and needed another squirt from the dispenser.

"Sam."

"I don't like ketchup squirted all over my fries."

"I figured that after you swiped your hand across the table unnecessarily when we were going to the lane."

"You caught that, huh?"

"Yeah," she huffed out a laugh and saddled up next to me by the next sink and ran the tap. "It was fairly odd."

"You caught that too. Good, I thought a good joke was wasted on you."

"So, Sam . . . you never texted me."

"I didn't. But, neither did you." It wasn't fair that I was landed with that responsibility, especially since when she asked me out, that I had to sort out the date and initiate that conversation too. It went both ways. "I actually did have a good time with you."

"Me too."

"But . . ."

"You don't want to do it again."

"I'm sorry, I don't."

"Want to know something? This is a good experience. I'm so bad with texting girls that are a little distance away and are so easy to ghost, but with you, I have to see your face every day, so it's a learning curve having to deal with this face to face. Even if it's in the girl's bathroom." Maisie grinned and went into the stall and wiped her hands with the toilet paper, dumping it in the bin next to me. "What's up?"

Wow, she was really going for it. "You want an honest answer?"

She nodded in encouragement. "Yep. Let's do this."

"I did enjoy the date. I did have a good time. I really liked bowling. Didn't like the food but it was definitely a four out of five stars."

"The suspension is killing me. Just tell me. Was it because I tried to kiss you?"