and then mentally added as though it were a mantra, Don't ask me how old I am. Don't ask me how old I am.
He shrugged. "Would you like to get together sometime?"
"Sure." Don't ask me which dorm I live in. Don't ask me which dorm I live in.
"Can I have your phone number?"
I gave him my cell phone number. He wrote it on the back of my bill, studied me for another moment, then shook his head. "I keep trying to figure out where I know you from. Do you take Economics 101?"
"No." Don't ask me what my major is. Don't ask me what my major is.
"Have you ever lived in California?"
"Nope."
"Do you go to the Rec Center to run track?"
"Maybe you just recognize me from the restaurant. I come here a lot." I didn't, but I didn't want him to keep asking about my schedule.
He nodded uncertainly. "That could be it." Then his expression changed, and I could tell he'd put the matter out of his mind. "I'm closing tonight, but we could get together after classes tomorrow. What time are you done?"
"Two-thirty." Which was, after all true, because that's when the high school got out.
He nodded. "Let's get together for dinner. Can I pick you up at six?"
If I gave him my house address he'd know I wasn't a college student. My throat felt dry. "I have some errands to run tomorrow. Why don't I meet you somewhere. Where did you want to go?"
He said, "Let's go someplace where my coworkers and family won't be around. How about Basilios?"
We worked out the last of the details and then he glanced around the room. "I'd better get back to work. If I stay here too long the other employees will never let me hear the end of it." He stood up but gave me another smile before he left. "I'm glad you came in tonight, Chelsea."
So was I. All the way home I repeated his name in my mind.
My friends and I generally got together on Jock's Landing before school to talk. The subject the next morning was my secret double life as a college student.
"I never told him I went to WSU," I pointed out. "I just never said I didn't."
"It's almost the same as lying," Samantha said.
"It's not lying," I said. "It's verbal camouflage."
"Camouflaged or not, he's going to be mad if you're not up front about it from the beginning," Samantha said.
Aubrie nodded. "He'll wonder what else you haven't been honest about. Besides, it's not such a big deal. A lot of the guys we dated last year are in college this year. Girls date guys who are older. People know that."
"But there's a difference between a college guy dating a girl he went out with in high school and a college guy hitting on some random high school girl." I folded my arms and stared out at the river of students making their way to the lockers. "He'll think I'm too young for him."
"He'll find out eventually," Samantha said. "You can't hide it forever."
"I don't have to hide it forever," I said. "Just until next year when I actually go to college." Or until he decided he liked me so much he didn't care I was seventeen—well, almost eighteen.
"Why not let her pretend to be older?" Rachel asked, finally chiming in on the subject. "Chances are she'll get tired of him before he figures out her age." Rachel forgets that the rest of us don't date as much as she does.
"And how is she going to keep her age from him?" Samantha asked.
"Easy," Rachel said. "Just keep him talking about himself. That's what guys like to do anyway."
"Maybe," Aubrie said, "but the subject will come up sooner or later."
Rachel shook her head and then stared at the ceiling in contemplation. "I probably shouldn't reveal my dating secrets. Once I do, you're likely to steal all sorts of guys away from me." She lowered her gaze with a sigh. "Still, what are friends for? Chelsea needs help and she's not getting any good advice from the rest of you." Rachel took hold of my arm and pulled me closer to her. "I have a method. It works every time, and it will work for you if you can manage to follow it."
"What is it?" I asked.
"No matter what the
He shrugged. "Would you like to get together sometime?"
"Sure." Don't ask me which dorm I live in. Don't ask me which dorm I live in.
"Can I have your phone number?"
I gave him my cell phone number. He wrote it on the back of my bill, studied me for another moment, then shook his head. "I keep trying to figure out where I know you from. Do you take Economics 101?"
"No." Don't ask me what my major is. Don't ask me what my major is.
"Have you ever lived in California?"
"Nope."
"Do you go to the Rec Center to run track?"
"Maybe you just recognize me from the restaurant. I come here a lot." I didn't, but I didn't want him to keep asking about my schedule.
He nodded uncertainly. "That could be it." Then his expression changed, and I could tell he'd put the matter out of his mind. "I'm closing tonight, but we could get together after classes tomorrow. What time are you done?"
"Two-thirty." Which was, after all true, because that's when the high school got out.
He nodded. "Let's get together for dinner. Can I pick you up at six?"
If I gave him my house address he'd know I wasn't a college student. My throat felt dry. "I have some errands to run tomorrow. Why don't I meet you somewhere. Where did you want to go?"
He said, "Let's go someplace where my coworkers and family won't be around. How about Basilios?"
We worked out the last of the details and then he glanced around the room. "I'd better get back to work. If I stay here too long the other employees will never let me hear the end of it." He stood up but gave me another smile before he left. "I'm glad you came in tonight, Chelsea."
So was I. All the way home I repeated his name in my mind.
My friends and I generally got together on Jock's Landing before school to talk. The subject the next morning was my secret double life as a college student.
"I never told him I went to WSU," I pointed out. "I just never said I didn't."
"It's almost the same as lying," Samantha said.
"It's not lying," I said. "It's verbal camouflage."
"Camouflaged or not, he's going to be mad if you're not up front about it from the beginning," Samantha said.
Aubrie nodded. "He'll wonder what else you haven't been honest about. Besides, it's not such a big deal. A lot of the guys we dated last year are in college this year. Girls date guys who are older. People know that."
"But there's a difference between a college guy dating a girl he went out with in high school and a college guy hitting on some random high school girl." I folded my arms and stared out at the river of students making their way to the lockers. "He'll think I'm too young for him."
"He'll find out eventually," Samantha said. "You can't hide it forever."
"I don't have to hide it forever," I said. "Just until next year when I actually go to college." Or until he decided he liked me so much he didn't care I was seventeen—well, almost eighteen.
"Why not let her pretend to be older?" Rachel asked, finally chiming in on the subject. "Chances are she'll get tired of him before he figures out her age." Rachel forgets that the rest of us don't date as much as she does.
"And how is she going to keep her age from him?" Samantha asked.
"Easy," Rachel said. "Just keep him talking about himself. That's what guys like to do anyway."
"Maybe," Aubrie said, "but the subject will come up sooner or later."
Rachel shook her head and then stared at the ceiling in contemplation. "I probably shouldn't reveal my dating secrets. Once I do, you're likely to steal all sorts of guys away from me." She lowered her gaze with a sigh. "Still, what are friends for? Chelsea needs help and she's not getting any good advice from the rest of you." Rachel took hold of my arm and pulled me closer to her. "I have a method. It works every time, and it will work for you if you can manage to follow it."
"What is it?" I asked.
"No matter what the
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