CHAPTER NINETEEN
INDIGO
I can't remember the last time I went out on a real date - let alone a date on Valentine's Day. It's kind of surreal. Greer always said that dates were a waste of money, when I could cook and he had Netflix. But now, now I'm going on a real date. And I can't decide if I'm over the moon ecstatic, or dreading it beyond measure. There's a feeling in my tummy, and I can't tell if it's butterflies, or rocks.
It's a weird feeling, getting myself all done up for a date. I've never really gone on a date with someone I wasn't already romantically involved in. Like this date could, on a very dramatic scale, change my entire life, in one way or another. Though I seriously doubt it, Henry Quincy could potentially be my future husband, and that idea is just weird. Like I've never kissed this man, never even touched his hand, and yet, I could one day share his surname.
My toes are non-stop tapping against the floor as I sit at my vanity. Though my room lights are off, I have my mirror lights on, which casts an odd sort of glow across the entirety of my space. Long shadows make my stuffed animals look like eerie monsters, instead of the fluffy, lovable animals they are.
My nerves are through the roof right now. Sadie won't be back for another twenty minutes still, but Henry had told me he would be here to pick me up at seven pm sharp. It's six now. And all I've managed to do is apply moisturizer and stress myself out near too tears.
I take a deep breath, and try to settle my nerves.
I bend over, and grab my makeup bag. My dress I had picked out is pink, which I think is rather fitting, so I want to keep the make up minimal. Normally I'm a mascara and chapstick kind of girl, but sometimes you gotta do a little more, you know? After I put my bag on my vanity, I grab my phone. I have no notifications. Huh, weird. Normally Kolby would have sent me a text by now. Maybe he's just busy. It is Valentine's Day, after all. And I've rejected him, so if he wants to go out he certainly can. But a part of me - a very big part of me - is hoping he isn't.
I scoff. I can't think like that when I am doing that exact thing. But.
I'm doing this because I need to know. I need to see.
I shake my head, once again forcing myself to calm my nerves, and then I open up my phone, and do one good thing for the several bad things I've done or am doing to ruin everything.
Kolby's name is only the fourth from the top, so I don't even have to scroll to find him. I click on his name, and it opens up to our latest text thread. He was asking me how my day had been. He's so sweet.
INDIGO: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY
And then I chuck my phone onto my bed, entirely out of reach - out of sight, out of mind if you will.
I begin getting ready, even going as far as to turn on my old CD player, which, bless my ears, had an old Taylor Swift disc in it already. I feel slightly like I'm a character in a coming-of-age movie, in the montage in the beginning, getting ready and what have you, with no knowledge whatsoever of what awaits them. In fact, I'm so sucked into my movie-character cosplay, that I don't even notice Sadie at the door, phone up, giggling like some escaped con.
I pause my singing immediately.
"Does it look okay?" I ask, pulling my hair away from my head so she can see my makeup in it's full form.
"Yes," she says, then she scrunches her nose, and tilts her head, "I guess so, anyway. I always have Malyia do my makeup for meets. So."
"Does it look like how you look for meets?"
She shrugs her shoulders. Sadie owns one singular tube of mascara, and the only reason she even owns that, is because I bought it for her. I survey her, then, and it's the same attire as per usual. Though, instead of sweat pants she has on leggings. But, yes, that's definitely her dad's hoodie. I swear, she doesn't even own actual clothes.
"I mean, yeah."
I nod, "Good. What should I do with my hair?"
She holds her hands out about half a foot away from head, "Afro."
I snort, and grab my hair tie from my wrist. "Absolutely not."
• • •
It's seven o' two when Henry's blue Cadillac pulls into the drive. Sadie has assured me I look hot, no, actually, that's no where close to what she said. You look down right fuckable, babe. Good lord, she needs her mouth washed out with soap.
"Do I wait?" I ask Sadie. We're standing in her room, since her window perfectly overlooks the front door and sidewalk, as well as Henry's car. We have the curtains pulled back, and we're raised up on our tip toes, trying to see what Henry will do.
"Guys are supposed to come and knock on the door, remember?" Sadie mutters, then she ya me her curtain closed. "He's coming."
I look back outside, my heart falling to my stomach. Oh. My. Gosh. I'm going on a date.
"Indigo," Sadie barks at me, reaching in front of me to yank my curtain closed, too. Then, she grabs me by the shoulders, and turns me so that I'm facing her, and she gives me a little shake. "You are hot. You are fucking smoking, kay? Now," she brushes the front of my dress off like it has crumbs or something, "Go get 'im, tiger."
She gestures to the stairs, just as the doorbell bellows out. I swallow the sick feeling that rises up thick in my throat, and nod, stepping around her, and down the stairs.
Sadie's right, I'm hot. I'm smoking. Henry asked me out of his own free will. I've got this.
I twitch my lips up into a smile as I open up the door. I'm pleasantly surprised by Henry's attire - a nice white button down, with a Ralph Lauren long sleeve on top, a dark pair of jeans, stretched tight over his-
"You look nice," I say, clearing my throat immediately afterwards.
Henry smiles down at me, "And you look stunning. I definitely think pink is your color." He holds out his hand, "Ready?"
I nod, "Born ready."
He helps me into his car, you know, opening the door, and then closing it after I've sat down, and then we're off. It's a short drive to the movie theater, and when we park, instead of getting our immediately, he turns to me, a wide smile on his face, "Have you ever seen 10 Things I Hate About You?"
I snort, which is very unladylike, and definitely not something one should do on a first date, and nod my head, "Of course I have."
"And did you like it?"
"One of my favorites, actually," I admit. When I was in highschool, I strived to be as bitchy as Kat.
"So you wouldn't be opposed to watching the rerun tonight in the theater? At 7:30 then?" He has his hand on his door handle, and he raises his brows at me.
I laugh, "Not at all."
Again, he opens and then closes my door, and while we walk from the parking lot to the theaters doors, his hand rests on my lower back. Which is all fine and dandy, expect for the fact that there's no buzz from his skin to mine where the heat of his palm infiltrates the cloth of my dress. It's just a hand.
As we go to order of tickets, he says, "One for 10 Things I Hate About You," and passes over a ten dollar bill.
I can't help the frown from forming on my face. I have to buy my own ticket? I'm not against girls paying for dates, but he had asked me out. Isn't it just custom for the person who did the asking out to cover the cost? Kolby's never even made me pay for something as small as a pack of gum.
No, I tell myself as soon the thought develops in my mind. Tonight is not about Kolby. It's about Henry.
I quickly dig out a ten dollar bill from my purse, and has it to the poor highschool girl that looks about two seconds away from crying.
Henry partially redeems himself when he pays for a big tub of popcorn for us to share, a soda for me and for himself, and then leads us to the theater. To my surprise, the room showing the movie actually has a pretty decent sized crowd. About ten or fifteen people litter the red-cushioned seats.
"Middle okay?" He asks me, nodding to a wide open spot in the middle of the collection of seats.
I don't say anything, just go ahead and make my way there. I'm not a middle type of girl, I like to be in the very back, where you don't need to worry about anyone seeing you spill your drink or laugh too loud.
We sit in silence for nearly the whole movie, which is odd. I'm so used to Sadie's witty remarks, Kolby complaining about watching a chick movie, Jess and Drew arguing because I don't think I've ever seen them get along.
But then.
First, his hand was just kind of hanging over my knee, and then he flipped it, and his fingers would kind of tickle my knee cap every move on while, like he was counting off on his fingers. And again, though I was desperately begging myself, there was never a spark. Never even a tingle. I sigh quietly and shift down in my seat, forcing my leg upwards by a fraction of an inch. His hand collides with my knee, and it's like it's what he needed. He quickly grasps my thigh, not closer to my knee, or to my hip. A nice position in the middle.
And it's the worst feeling I've ever felt in my life. His hands are sweaty and clammy, and I hate it. This was supposed to be fun, a new fun thing to try out, and I hate it.
When the movie ends, he stands up, and I relish in the cool air that drafts over my leg, drying the sweat left there. He offers me a hand, so, I grab it, using it to pull myself up. He's smiling so wide at me, I feel so bad.
"How was that?"
I smile, too, but it's forced. "It was great." I dig into my purse, looking for my phone, wanting to check the time. I have an 8 am tomorrow, and I don't want to be up too late. But instead of seeing the time, I see a two text messages from Kolby, and my heart sinks.
KOLBY: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY, BLUE 💙
KOLBY: I HOPE YOU LIKE IT
I don't know what "it" is, but I'm sure I'll love it.
"Indigo?" Henry asks me, tapping my shoulder.
I blink and shake my head, "Sorry, what?"
He laughs a little at me, and hooks his thumbs back towards the door. "I asked if you wanted to get dinner somewhere?"
"Oh, no," I shake my head, and then I realize I sound like a brat, so I hurry with an excuse, "I have an eight am in the morning, and that popcorn was enough."
He's frowning, but he nods. "Okay, I'll take you home."
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