Massive. It’s not normal to have everything fall into place so perfectly. We laughed our asses off at dinner, talking about all kinds of things over TGI Friday’s buffalo wings and Caesar salad—fun topics without a mention of Schwerinborg, my mother (I still assume that Jeremy and David do not know), or David’s father’s waaay conservative politics.
David brushed my hand a couple times under the table, and he even made the same jokes about the ketchup I always make. He kept grinning at me with his perfect mouth and his perfect eyes, both of which sparkled. (Okay, that might have been theTGI Friday’s lighting, but they sure seemed to have a sparkly kind of shine whenever he looked at me.)
It was all perfectly perfect, and anything that perfect makes me suspicious.
Especially since I am feeling WAY guilty now. To take my mind off the fact my evening—let alone my life —had been planned without my consent, I spent this afternoon going through all my e-mail from Vienna West, since I discovered that the high school didn’t close my account like they were supposed to when I transferred to Schwerinborg.
And there it was. It almost made me call Christie and back out of the date-that’s-not-officially-a-date.
COMMUNICATION. Actual communication from Georg.
His e-mail was dated yesterday, the day he got to Zermatt, and it said everything IVe wanted to hear from him ever since the whole tabloid-newspaper-spin-control mess started.
He wants me. For real.
I know because that s what he told me the night of the dinner. We had that sameaura of everything-tonight-is-perfect around us that’s now being created between me and David in the movie theater. But that time, it didn’t feel like a conspiracy. It just happened .
I shouldn’t have come. Even before Mrs. Toleski showed up in her minivan to drive me (well, all of us) to TGI Friday’s, I knew things would be okay with me and Georg. But then I figured nothing bad could happen if I just went along with Christie’s plan and played it cool. David couldn’t really be that interested in me. Half the girls in school would kill to go out with him, and I’m headed back to Schwerinborg in a week. And by not canceling, I keep Jules, Natalie, and especially Christie from giving me any more crap about it.
But now I’m feeling the vibe. The aura. The psychic whatever-it-is that makes me think this thing between me and David actually might be a thing .
Just like I felt with Georg.
I think.
They can’t BOTH be true, can they? I can’t possibly have feelings like this—that a relationship is cosmically ordained—fortwo completely different guys at the same time. It s just wrong, at least with one relationship, and maybe with both.
“You know that’s completely inaccurate historically,” David leans over and whispers in my ear as Heath strolls down a street that looks vaguely European and knocks on a weathered door.
I glance at David and smile, because I like that he’s so smart and that he assumes I’m smart, too, since he’s not bothering to point out what the on-screen inaccuracy is. “They didn’t wear those until the late eighteen hundreds, at least,” I whisper back, trying not to think about how solid David’s shoulder feels where he’s leaning it against mine. Must be all that rugby he plays. “No way would they have ’em in the Middle Ages, anyway.”
“Bet Mrs. Bennett wouldn’t have caught it,” he says, close to my ear, and I try not to laugh aloud since we’re smack in the middle of the movie and everyone in the theater’s hush-hush.
We both turn our attention back to the screen, because the movie’s really good (despite the costume inaccuracy), and a fewseconds later he reaches across the armrest and puts his hand over mine. He’s a little tentative (can he tell I’m totally freaking out?), but after a few seconds he laces his fingers through mine. He does it loosely so I can still pull away without being obvious.
But I don’t.
David brushed my hand a couple times under the table, and he even made the same jokes about the ketchup I always make. He kept grinning at me with his perfect mouth and his perfect eyes, both of which sparkled. (Okay, that might have been theTGI Friday’s lighting, but they sure seemed to have a sparkly kind of shine whenever he looked at me.)
It was all perfectly perfect, and anything that perfect makes me suspicious.
Especially since I am feeling WAY guilty now. To take my mind off the fact my evening—let alone my life —had been planned without my consent, I spent this afternoon going through all my e-mail from Vienna West, since I discovered that the high school didn’t close my account like they were supposed to when I transferred to Schwerinborg.
And there it was. It almost made me call Christie and back out of the date-that’s-not-officially-a-date.
COMMUNICATION. Actual communication from Georg.
His e-mail was dated yesterday, the day he got to Zermatt, and it said everything IVe wanted to hear from him ever since the whole tabloid-newspaper-spin-control mess started.
He wants me. For real.
I know because that s what he told me the night of the dinner. We had that sameaura of everything-tonight-is-perfect around us that’s now being created between me and David in the movie theater. But that time, it didn’t feel like a conspiracy. It just happened .
I shouldn’t have come. Even before Mrs. Toleski showed up in her minivan to drive me (well, all of us) to TGI Friday’s, I knew things would be okay with me and Georg. But then I figured nothing bad could happen if I just went along with Christie’s plan and played it cool. David couldn’t really be that interested in me. Half the girls in school would kill to go out with him, and I’m headed back to Schwerinborg in a week. And by not canceling, I keep Jules, Natalie, and especially Christie from giving me any more crap about it.
But now I’m feeling the vibe. The aura. The psychic whatever-it-is that makes me think this thing between me and David actually might be a thing .
Just like I felt with Georg.
I think.
They can’t BOTH be true, can they? I can’t possibly have feelings like this—that a relationship is cosmically ordained—fortwo completely different guys at the same time. It s just wrong, at least with one relationship, and maybe with both.
“You know that’s completely inaccurate historically,” David leans over and whispers in my ear as Heath strolls down a street that looks vaguely European and knocks on a weathered door.
I glance at David and smile, because I like that he’s so smart and that he assumes I’m smart, too, since he’s not bothering to point out what the on-screen inaccuracy is. “They didn’t wear those until the late eighteen hundreds, at least,” I whisper back, trying not to think about how solid David’s shoulder feels where he’s leaning it against mine. Must be all that rugby he plays. “No way would they have ’em in the Middle Ages, anyway.”
“Bet Mrs. Bennett wouldn’t have caught it,” he says, close to my ear, and I try not to laugh aloud since we’re smack in the middle of the movie and everyone in the theater’s hush-hush.
We both turn our attention back to the screen, because the movie’s really good (despite the costume inaccuracy), and a fewseconds later he reaches across the armrest and puts his hand over mine. He’s a little tentative (can he tell I’m totally freaking out?), but after a few seconds he laces his fingers through mine. He does it loosely so I can still pull away without being obvious.
But I don’t.
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