I laugh and wrap my arm around his. My parents watch as we walk to the door.
"Have fun, you two!" my mom says.
"But not too much," my dad kids.
When we're outside, I say, "They're a little too excited I'm dating."
"You don't date much?" he asks as we walk to his car.
"I haven't been on a date for over a year, not counting last night."
"That's shocking," he says, opening my door.
I wait for him to get in the driver's side, then say, "Why is that shocking?"
"Because you're beautiful." He glances at me as he pushes a button that starts the car. "And smart. Funny. Fun to hang out with."
He backs out of the driveway. I'm staring at him to see if he was kidding. Does he really think I'm all those things or was he just saying it to get me to like him? I never trust when people compliment me. I always assume they're being sarcastic. I'm so used to being made fun of that I assume any compliments that come my way are some kind of joke.
"I don't really have a reservation," he says.
"You don't?"
"No. I tried, but when I called, they said it's first come, first served."
"So you lied to my parents?" I say in a kidding tone.
"I was just trying to get out of there. I could tell you wanted to leave and I knew if I didn't come up with something your dad would keep asking me questions about the game. I don't mind talking to him about it but maybe some other time." He reaches across the seat and takes my hand. "Today I just really wanted to get this date started. I missed you."
"You just saw me last night."
"And I missed you right after I dropped you off. I've missed you ever since."
I missed him too, which is strange. Why would I miss him after just seeing him?
"That's weird," I mutter.
"What's weird?"
I didn't think he heard me. I didn't intend for him to. I was just thinking out loud.
"You think it's weird that I missed you?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"If you really like someone, it's not weird. It just means you like being around the person and want to spend more time with them."
"That makes sense." I pause and look out the side window. "I missed you too."
"You did?"
"I just said I did." My head whips back to him. "Don't make me say it again!"
He laughs. I wasn't trying to be funny. I just blurted it out without thinking, but hearing myself say it, it did sound kind of funny.
"Why are you getting so angry?" he asks in a joking way.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to."
"Was it because you're not comfortable admitting you like me?"
I bite my lip. "Maybe."
"Why? Do you not like talking about your feelings?"
"Nobody likes talking about their feelings, except maybe Stella. She's an open book. Ask her any question, she'll answer. She'll tell you anything."
"But you won't."
"No."
"Then why'd you tell me you missed me?"
"I don't know. It came out before I could stop myself."
He pulls into the parking lot near the lake. "I think you wanted me to know. And I think you got angry because you're not sure you're ready to feel this way."
"What way?"
He parks the car and looks at me. "The way it feels to be falling for someone. Like falling really hard. The kind of falling that makes you afraid you're going to get hurt."
He's right. That's how I feel. I'm afraid I'm going to get hurt. Terrified, really, because I know it's going to happen. So why am I doing this? Why am I here with him? Why do I keep going out with him knowing it's going to hurt when it ends?
Chapter Thirteen
"You think it won't last," he says casually as he undoes his seatbelt.
"What won't last?"
"You and me. You're convinced it won't last so you're wondering why we're even going out tonight."
My mouth drops open, then closes. "How'd you do that?"
"Do what?"
"It's like you read minds or something."
He chuckles. "I don't read minds. You just don't have a good poker face."
"What does that mean?" I ask, sounding offended.
"It means you wear your thoughts on your face. I can tell what you're thinking just by looking at you."
"I don't wear my thoughts on my face. Nobody's ever guessed what I'm thinking, except maybe Stella but half the time she's wrong."
"Then I guess I'm just good at reading you. That's a sign we're meant to be together, by the way."
"No, it's not. And for the record, high school relationships never last so it's not like I'm being a pessimist here. I'm just being realistic."
He gets out of the car and comes around to open my door.
"I bet Sam and Stella will last," he says, offering me his hand to help me out.
"Yeah, but they're different. It's like they were put on this planet to be together."
"And you're saying that can't happen with anyone else?" he asks as we walk hand-in-hand toward the lake.
"It can. It's just rare."
"Doesn't mean it couldn't happen to you."
"I guess." I point to the lake. "It looks like they only have one paddleboat left."
"You don't like talking about that stuff," he says with a grin.
"Not really," I say.
"We'll have to work on that."
I don't respond. Despite what he said, I have no intention of having any more relationship talks. We're not in a relationship and never will be. We're just casually dating. I'm not looking for anything more and he shouldn't be either.
Wes goes up to the attendant. "We need a boat for an hour."
The guy makes him fill something out, then Wes gets his wallet out to pay. He pulls out a fifty, and as he does, I notice his wallet is full of fifties and a couple hundreds. That's a lot of money to carry around.
"Here." He hands me a lifejacket as we walk to the boat. "They make you wear these."
We put them on, then he helps me onto the boat. It's the perfect day to be out here. The weather is warm and sunny, although it's a little too bright for my eyes. I forgot to bring sunglasses.
"Have you done this before?" Wes asks.
"No. Have you?"
"Yeah. It's easy. Just put your feet on the pedals and pedal like you're riding a bike." He smiles at me. "Or if you'd like to just sit back and relax, I can do all the pedaling."
"I don't mind pedaling." I get my feet in position and pedal with him. The water provides a lot of resistance so we can't go very fast.
"What do you think?" he asks.
"I like it," I say, keeping my eyes down to avoid the direct glare of the sun. "It was a good idea."
"Need some glasses?"
"What?" I look up at him.
"Sunglasses. I have some in the car. I could go back and get them."
How did he know I needed them? Was I squinting? I didn't think I was but I must've been or he wouldn't have said it.
"I'll be fine. I don't want us going all the way back for that."
"I could use some sunglasses. I'm going back."
We pedal back to shore and he hops off the boat. "I'll be just a minute."
Now I wish I'd told him I needed them. I'm straining to see with this sun. Why didn't I remember to bring sunglasses? I'm surprised my mom didn't remind me.
Wes returns, jumping back on the boat and making it sway a little.
"You're going to tip us over," I say, laughing.
"We're good." He drops a paper sack between us.
"What's that?"
"Refreshments. I almost forgot them. That's another reason we had to go back." He hands me a pair of sunglasses. "These are for you. They're guy glasses but they'll keep the sun out of your eyes."
"Don't you want them?"
"I have some." He pulls a pair from the collar of his shirt and puts them on. He looks hot with sunglasses. They're aviators and
look expensive. The ones he gave me also look expensive. I put them on and my eyes are finally able to relax.
"Thanks," I say. "I needed these."
"I could tell. We were both squinting." He opens the paper sack and pulls out a bottle of water. "Want one?"
"Yeah." I take it from him. "Thanks!"
"You pedal. I'll set up the refreshments."
I laugh. "Do we really need refreshments?"
"We'll be out here pedaling for an hour. We need energy."
"So what'd you bring?" I pedal us forward as he pulls out more stuff from the sack.
"I've got chips, granola bars, candy bars, and cucumber slices."
"You brought cucumbers?"
"They're from my garden. I've got so many I can't rid of them all so I brought some along."
"How big is your garden?"
"It's huge. I planted too much but I like doing it so I got a little carried away. I'm going to call up some food pantries and homeless shelters and see if I could donate some of it."
"What got you interested in gardening?"
"My grandma. I used to go to her house and help her with the garden. Before she died, she told me to keep gardening. She said even when she's gone, she'd still be with me in the garden. And she was right."
"What do you mean?"
"I always find something growing that I didn't plant. She told me that would happen and when it does, I'll know it's her, showing up to see me."
"What did you find this year that you weren't expecting?"
"Flowers. They're these small blue wildflowers. Blue was her favorite color so I know it's her, coming back to see me. Maybe that sounds strange but—"
"It doesn't sound strange. I think it's really cool. And kind of amazing. This has happened every year since she's been gone?"
"Yeah. For four years. The first year I didn't believe it. I wasn't even going to plant anything. And then I decided to plant some tomatoes. Just two plants. I was busy developing my game and wasn't really paying attention to the tomatoes, then one day I went out to water them and saw some dill growing between them. My grandma loved dill pickles and so do I. We used to make them from the cucumbers in the garden."
"And you're sure there weren't dill seeds in the soil?"
"Nope. I'd never planted dill before. I knew it was her, and ever since then, she's shown up in my garden." He holds open a plastic bag that has cucumber spears in it. "Try one."
I take one and taste it. "These are really good."
"I've got a ton of cucumbers so if you want some, I'll bring some over."
"My mom would love that. You already won her over with the tomatoes. The cucumbers would be over the top."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Have I won you over yet?"
I smile. "I'm not sure. It's too early to tell."
"Guess I'll have to keep working on it." He sets the cucumbers down and is about to reach into the sack again, but then drops it and yells, "Luna!"
"What?" I notice him pointing at something. I look and see a boat beside us. I'm heading right toward it. "Shit!"
I try to steer us away but the boat is too slow. We end up hitting the other boat and bouncing off it like bumper cars.
"Watch where you're going!" the guy in the other boat yells. He's probably around twenty, and he's big, like he spends a lot of time at the gym. A pretty blonde is sitting beside him.
"Sorry," I say. "It was an accident."
The guy looks at Wes. "Teach your woman to drive!" And then he paddles away.
"You okay?" Wes asks, putting his hand on mine.
"I'm fine."
"You didn't get hurt?"
"No. Did you?"
"No, but I was about to hurt my hand again hitting that guy in the face."
"I wouldn't mess with him. The guy is huge and it seems like he has a bad temper."
"He's an ass. He should be friends with Ty."
"He should. They'd get along great."
"So what happened? You didn't see their boat beside us?"
"Not until it was too late."
A person with peripheral vision would have seen it, but that's not me. The boat was right beside us and I couldn't see it.
"You want me to take over and give you a break?" Wes asks.
"Because my driving skills are so bad?" I kid.
"They're not bad. The sun's coming right at us. It makes it hard to see."
"I guess I could use a break." I take my feet off the pedals and pick up the bag of cucumbers. "Mind if I have a few?"
"Have the whole bag. That's why I brought them."
"What else do you grow?"
"Green beans. Carrots. Peas. A few herbs. I'm not used to the growing conditions here so some of the stuff I planted didn't work. But the stuff that did really took off."
I bite into a cucumber. It's cold and crisp and full of flavor.
"These taste so much better than the ones in the store," I say, taking another one from the bag.
"Because the ones in the store have to be picked early and shipped thousands of miles. It destroys the flavor."
"You know a lot about vegetables."
"Not really. I only know what my grandma taught me."
"Do your parents garden?"
"No. My dad doesn't have the patience for it and my mom doesn't like dirt touching her hands." He chuckles. "Looks like you have a friend."
"What do you mean?"
He points to my side of the boat. "The bird."
I turn my head and see it just as it's flying away. It's a small bird with bright yellow feathers.
"You didn't see it?" he asks.
"I saw it. I like the yellow on it. It's really bright."
"I mean, when it was next to you on the boat, you didn't notice?"
"Not really." I glance away.
"I'm surprised you didn't see it. When it landed there, I thought you'd freak out. Most people would if a bird got that close to them."
I shrug. "I'm not afraid of birds."
He looks at me, not saying anything, and I wonder if he suspects something's wrong with my eyes. That bird was bright yellow and right next to me and I didn't even notice.
"So are we going to dinner after this?" I ask, hoping to get his mind off the bird incident.
"We can, although it'll still be early."
"Then what do you want to do?"
"I have a blanket in the car. We could find a spot in the park and put the blanket down and just hang out."
Hang out? I don't know how to hang out with a guy. I guess that's what we're doing now but this is an activity. We're busy pedaling the boat, not just sitting together on the ground. What if we run out of things to talk about? I wonder if that ever happens with Stella and Sam. After all this time they've been together, they've got to be running out of things to say.
Wes is staring at me and I notice he's stopped pedaling. We're on the other side of the lake now, close to the shoreline near a cluster of trees. The branches hang over the water, offering up some shade.
"Why'd you stop?" I ask.
"Because I like this spot. It's quiet."
By quiet, I think he means private. I look around and see we're all alone, the other boats off in the distance.
He turns to me and brings his hand up to my face, brushing some loose strands of hair off my cheek.
"You're really beautiful," he says, looking in my eyes.
I look away. "Thanks."
I want to tell him I'm not, but my mom has lectured me a million times to always accept a compliment, not try to deflect it or say it's not true.
"Luna." He speaks softly, his voice deep and calm. "Look at me."
Forcing my eyes back to his, I see his smile appear. Not a big smile. Just a slight rise of his lips brought on by whatever it is he's feeling right now.
"You have the most beautiful eyes," he says.
I rear back. "No, I don't."
It was an instinctual response. Despite all
my mom's lectures about accepting compliments, that's not one I can agree with. My eyes aren't beautiful. They're broken and they're ruining my life. They betrayed me, and because of that, they're ugly. I hate my eyes.
He takes my hand. "What's wrong?"
Glancing down, I say, "Nothing. I just don't like my eyes."
"Why not? They're stunning. They're the first thing I noticed about you."
I let out a laugh. "Are you serious?"
"Completely. And that's not some type of pick-up line either." He smiles, a big smile this time. "Which should be obvious since I don't need a pick-up line given that we're already on a date."
I glance away. "We should get going."
"You don't like compliments," he says as if it's a fact. He always does that. Instead of phrasing stuff as a question, he says it as though it's fact, which is kind of annoying but also kind of sexy. He's very confident and I find confidence to be an appealing trait, probably because I lack it and admire people who have it.
"I don't mind compliments," I say.
"You freaked out when I said you have beautiful eyes."
"I didn't freak out. I just disagreed with your statement. I think my eyes are my worst feature."
"How it that possible? Have you seen them?"
I laugh. "Yes. I do own a mirror."
"Then you must be blind because your eyes are beautiful."
I must be blind. If he only knew.
Taking my hand back and turning away from him, I say, "Let's go." I start pedaling.
"Wait." He puts his hand on my knee, which makes me immediately stop pedaling. The feel of his hand there has a warmth spreading up my leg and my brain unable to focus on anything but that.
"What happened?" he asks.
I look at him. "What do you mean?"
"Just now. Why'd you get upset? Was it something I said?"
I shake my head. "No. Now can we go?"
"Not until you explain your reaction just now."
Is this guy for real? Most guys his age, or any age, have no interest in knowing why a girl is upset. Most don't even notice. And yet I get the one guy who both notices and wants to talk about it.
"There's nothing to explain. I'm just tired of sitting here and want to check out more of the lake."
"I don't believe you."
"Then I don't know what to tell you. Do you want me to make something up?"
"No. I want you to tell me the truth. What did I say that made you upset?"
The Geek and The Goddess Page 12
