Revenge of the Girl With the Great Personality by Elizabeth Eulberg

later.” I start to walk out.
    “Now wait just a second, I want to meet this guy.” Mom gets up.
    “Please, Mom, maybe another time?” I realize that I sound desperate. This evening’s stressful enough without having to worry about being embarrassed by my family.
    Mom glances at Mackenzie, who’s currently wearing one of her crowns and sashes and is waving her hand around, smiling. “Okay, but next time, I expect to meet him.”
    “Of course, thanks!” I rush outside and see Taylor approaching the house.
    He smiles at me. “Hey, I was planning on knocking. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
    “That’s sweet of you, but there’s pageant craziness going on in there.”
    Taylor laughs and does a little wave. I turn around to find both Mackenzie and my mom staring out the window.
    So much for not being embarrassed.
    “Shall we …” I start walking toward the car.
    “You look great.”
    “Thanks!” That will never, and I mean never , get old.

    When I thought about being on a date, I never thought about the details. My mind would focus on specific moments, like when Logan would pick me up at my house. Of course, in my dreams it was always a fabulous house, not the dump I currently inhabit. He’d bring me flowers. He’d stare in my eyes. We’d walk along some beach holding hands, with the warm waves gently brushing against our feet. (Don’t ask me where we found an ocean in Dallas.) We’d make out, there’d be fireworks, we’d get married and live happily ever after.
    So I’m not entirely surprised that a regular, or I guess I should say real , first date isn’t anything like what I’ve dreamed of. But I didn’t realize that I would have so many things to consider, beyond what I was going to wear.
    Taylor opens up the passenger-side door for me, which I know is chivalrous and all, but I’m not expecting it, so I nearly fall over on the grass when I abruptly stop to let him open it for me. So am I supposed to wait in the car after we park for him to open the door for me? Is that what girls do? It makes me feel like he’s my chauffeur if I just sit there and wait for him to go around and open up the door. I don’t want to seem like a snob, or lazy, but what if he wants to open it for me?
    And where do I put my hands? I’ve been a passenger in a car thousands of times before. But as I sit here next to Taylor, who’s telling me some story about football that I’m pretending to be interested in, I’m hyperaware of his proximity to me. I’ve currently got my hands resting in my lap like I’m a lady in the 1920s waiting for her gentleman caller to show up.
    And what happens when the bill arrives? I know I should offer to pay, even though if he pays that means it’s a date. And if he lets me split the bill, does that mean he isn’t having a good time? Or that this is just a friend thing? I guess I should be careful not to order anything too expensive. Maybe just a side salad or something. And a water. Oh God, I think that’s probably what Brooke eats on dates.
    And if he does pay, then should I pay for the movie? I should offer that. Shouldn’t I? I don’t even know what I’ll do with my hands during the movie. And I think I’ll have a heart attack if I even start entertaining thoughts about the end of the evening and a possible kiss.
    And I guess the most important question of all: Is this even a real date? I mean, he asked me. But not really me , like Normal Lexi. He asked the primped-out version of me. So I don’t know if I can really consider this a real date. It’s been built on false pretenses.
    But then why am I so nervous?
    “Ready?” Taylor shuts off the ignition and I realize that we’re at the mall.
    I try to give him a confident smile. “Yes!” And I open the passenger door and get out.
    That’s one less thing I have to worry about.

    Of course, the second I get home, I call Benny.
    He picks up the phone before I even hear a ring. “So?”
    “I love how me having a