hurt you, especially not in the middle of a restaurant. Tell him you came to ask if some girl wanted to go out with him, and then made a mistake."
"He'll laugh at me," I mumble.
"Probably," he says, sounding bored, and I remember that I don't really like Charles so much because he makes me feel like a dick. "I brought back your notes. And Chelsea brought back your hair-straighteners."
I take the bag. "How … are … things?" I ask, a little cautiously. Because it's always a hard question to ask.
"Okay … " He sighs a little. "Not long left now. She's pretty much just staying in the house." He frowns and I notice that he's starting to get wrinkles on his forehead.
"Is Chels … well?"
"Oh yeah, size of the side of a house, but still well. It shouldn't be a problem, really; her mum had no problems. I mean, she came out fine herself, so I'm sure the kid will manage. People have babies all the time; it's perfectly normal."
I let him talk for a bit longer, because Charles is going through a hell of a lot of problems right now and mine seem a lot smaller in comparison. Chelsea is his half-sister, although the half doesn't make much of a difference; they both look pretty similar, all fine blond hair and wide blue eyes. When I first met Charles, I had a bit of a crush on him, although that faded pretty quickly because Charles isn't really interested—in guys, girls … or anything really. "Well, I hope it goes okay, man," I say when he's finished.
"Yes. And good luck with your date." He gives a grin, the first one I've seen for a while. "Don't forget the mace!"
*~*~*
I'm hoping Josh won't turn up, I really am. But he does, and in a fucking rugby shirt with the collar turned up at the back. In contrast, I've made myself look as emo as possible: dark makeup, striped shirt, big boots, and re-styled hair to cover about half of my face, even though I usually just brush it over my left eye and leave it at that—all in an effort to look as little as possible like the kind of person I think he'd want to date.
Why the hell did he say 'yes'? Why the hell does some rugby-jock want to go out with a guy like me?
Josh looks me over and gives a quick grin, and I feel like kicking him. He wraps an arm around my waist and I almost throw up out of fear. "Shall we go?" I nod, mutely. "Does dinner sound okay?" I give another little nod. I can feel his hand pressing against the small of my back and I'm terrified he'll move it. Mostly terrified he'll move it down. What do I do if he grabs my ass?
Thankfully, he doesn't; just takes me to a place and sits down. I sit down, too, and stare at the menu. Saver deals and inexpensive food choices look back at me. As well as everything else, he's a cheap date. The waitress comes and I jab my finger at a random vegetarian thing, wondering if it's worth pretending to be vegan and kick up a fuss. I bet he'd really hate a vegan. I don't kick up a fuss, though, and when I look up, I see he's looking back at me and it almost scares me shitless.
"So … " he begins, and then stops. There's silence for a bit. I really wish they'd bring the food, so we could eat and get out. I start to feel a little sorry for Josh, stuck with a lousy date who doesn't even want to be with him.
"It was a mistake," I blurt out, because my brain failed me again and I can't think of anything to say.
Josh frowns. "You want to change your order?"
"No … "
"What was a mistake?"
I look down and mumble something random, staring at the tablecloth. I wish I'd put a slightly less crazy shirt on. "Why did you want to go out with me?"
Josh raises an eyebrow, and then sighs deeply, and I realise with panic that he's about to launch into a heartfelt talk. I don't want a heartfelt talk, especially not from a six foot tall rugby player with a popped collar . "Well … I don't know. For one thing, well … you're the first guy who's ever had the guts to ask me out. I was curious."
The guts? What guts? I have no guts!
"And …
"He'll laugh at me," I mumble.
"Probably," he says, sounding bored, and I remember that I don't really like Charles so much because he makes me feel like a dick. "I brought back your notes. And Chelsea brought back your hair-straighteners."
I take the bag. "How … are … things?" I ask, a little cautiously. Because it's always a hard question to ask.
"Okay … " He sighs a little. "Not long left now. She's pretty much just staying in the house." He frowns and I notice that he's starting to get wrinkles on his forehead.
"Is Chels … well?"
"Oh yeah, size of the side of a house, but still well. It shouldn't be a problem, really; her mum had no problems. I mean, she came out fine herself, so I'm sure the kid will manage. People have babies all the time; it's perfectly normal."
I let him talk for a bit longer, because Charles is going through a hell of a lot of problems right now and mine seem a lot smaller in comparison. Chelsea is his half-sister, although the half doesn't make much of a difference; they both look pretty similar, all fine blond hair and wide blue eyes. When I first met Charles, I had a bit of a crush on him, although that faded pretty quickly because Charles isn't really interested—in guys, girls … or anything really. "Well, I hope it goes okay, man," I say when he's finished.
"Yes. And good luck with your date." He gives a grin, the first one I've seen for a while. "Don't forget the mace!"
*~*~*
I'm hoping Josh won't turn up, I really am. But he does, and in a fucking rugby shirt with the collar turned up at the back. In contrast, I've made myself look as emo as possible: dark makeup, striped shirt, big boots, and re-styled hair to cover about half of my face, even though I usually just brush it over my left eye and leave it at that—all in an effort to look as little as possible like the kind of person I think he'd want to date.
Why the hell did he say 'yes'? Why the hell does some rugby-jock want to go out with a guy like me?
Josh looks me over and gives a quick grin, and I feel like kicking him. He wraps an arm around my waist and I almost throw up out of fear. "Shall we go?" I nod, mutely. "Does dinner sound okay?" I give another little nod. I can feel his hand pressing against the small of my back and I'm terrified he'll move it. Mostly terrified he'll move it down. What do I do if he grabs my ass?
Thankfully, he doesn't; just takes me to a place and sits down. I sit down, too, and stare at the menu. Saver deals and inexpensive food choices look back at me. As well as everything else, he's a cheap date. The waitress comes and I jab my finger at a random vegetarian thing, wondering if it's worth pretending to be vegan and kick up a fuss. I bet he'd really hate a vegan. I don't kick up a fuss, though, and when I look up, I see he's looking back at me and it almost scares me shitless.
"So … " he begins, and then stops. There's silence for a bit. I really wish they'd bring the food, so we could eat and get out. I start to feel a little sorry for Josh, stuck with a lousy date who doesn't even want to be with him.
"It was a mistake," I blurt out, because my brain failed me again and I can't think of anything to say.
Josh frowns. "You want to change your order?"
"No … "
"What was a mistake?"
I look down and mumble something random, staring at the tablecloth. I wish I'd put a slightly less crazy shirt on. "Why did you want to go out with me?"
Josh raises an eyebrow, and then sighs deeply, and I realise with panic that he's about to launch into a heartfelt talk. I don't want a heartfelt talk, especially not from a six foot tall rugby player with a popped collar . "Well … I don't know. For one thing, well … you're the first guy who's ever had the guts to ask me out. I was curious."
The guts? What guts? I have no guts!
"And …
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