At 6:25 the doorbell rings. I know it is 6:25 because I have been sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the clock and trying to keep my stomach from doing its gold medal-winning gymnastics routine.
“Mattie?” Mom’s voice has an excitement in it that makes me twice as nervous as before. I check my hair in the mirror again before heading down the stairs. I try to be really low maintenance in the area of hairstyles and make-up. I actually put mascara on tonight, for the first time in about six months. I kept smudging it under my eye and went through half a box of cotton swabs to keep from looking like a raccoon.
“. . . home by 11:00, I promise.” Nate is talking to my dad. Dad smiles, and I take that as a good sign.
“If there’s any problem, just give us a call,” Dad says. He looks at me and his smile gets bigger. My stomach is going for a perfect ten right now.
“You look really nice,” Nate says.
He looks every bit the part of football star. His face is tan, his hair cropped short and combed up in a spiked kind of ’do. His arms are ripped. I mean, chiseled. Like a statue. My knees start the whole gelatin thing, and I suddenly feel like running upstairs and hiding under my bed.
“Thanks,” I somehow manage to say. “You look really nice, too.” Spoken like a true twit head.
“Chris and Amanda are waiting in the car,” Nate says. “We should get going so we don’t miss the previews.”
Dad chuckles like this is some sort of a joke. Mom smiles at me.
Nate opens the door and holds it for me. The Mazda idles in the driveway, and I can’t believe I am actually going on a date. A real date. A really and truly real date. A little ticker tape runs through my brain like on the bottom of the screen when you watch CNN. It says, “Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t do anything embarrassing. Don’t act like a dweeb. Don’t trip over your shoes.” I may look really nice on the outside, but on the inside I’m a complete mess.
I climb into the front seat of the Mazda. Chris and Amanda sit in the back. He nods at me, and she smiles.
“Hi,” she says. Amanda is a pretty redhead. She is one of those delicate-looking girls, pale skinned and small boned. Sitting next to Chris’s big defensive-back body, she looks like his little sister instead of his girlfriend.
“Hi,” I say.
Nate shuts his door. “This is Mattie,” he says as he drives off toward the theater.
There is a long line at the box office. We inch our way up to the window behind the other couples, who are trying to pack as much as they can into the final days of summer. Chris has his arm around Amanda. He dwarfs her. She giggles and moves closer to him.
I wonder if Nate will put his arm around me. I wonder if he will kiss me again. I wonder if I should skip the popcorn and stick with chocolate mints, just in case.
“Two for the 7:00,” Nate says.
“Fifteen dollars,” says the zit-faced guy behind the glass.
I am struck by the sudden fear that I should have brought money with me. Am I supposed to pay for me? What about dinner? Do I pay for me then?
Nate hands over a twenty and collects the tickets and his change.
The buttery smell of popcorn wafts through the lobby doors. My mouth waters. There are very few things in the world I love more than movie theater buttered popcorn. Chocolate mints, I remind myself.
“Popcorn?” Nate asks. He puts his arm around my waist and maneuvers me toward the concession line. His hand is warm and sends a chill through my air-conditioned skin. I try not to shudder. I don’t want him to think I don’t want his arm around me.
“Um,” I say. I’m torn.
“With extra butter?”
He’s torturing me. I wonder if it’s on purpose.
“Sure.” I’m weak. I’m completely weak. What a wimp. “But I didn’t bring my wallet,” I say. I’m feeling guilty about the costs associated with taking me out.
Nate laughs. A big, loud laugh that makes people turn and look. I can feel my cheeks burning red, and I try not to run out the nearest exit.
“It’s a date,” he says. “My treat, you know?”
“Thanks,” I say. Could I be more of a dork?
Chris and Amanda lead the way. They head to the top of the theater, almost the back row. Nate and I follow, but Nate takes a left and sits across the aisle from Chris. My heart is in a head-to-head competition with my stomach now.
The lights dim and I stare at the screen. Nate slips his arm around my shoulder and moves closer to me. Previews flash across the screen, but I can’t focus on them.
Nate leans closer and whispers, “You look totally hot.” My heart tries to climb out my throat, and I am sure that the people in the front row are going to turn around and tell me to be quiet.
“Thanks,” I manage to say in almost a croak.
I hear a giggle that I know belongs to Amanda. I want to turn and look, but I am frozen in my seat. I am so totally in over my head.
Aliens try to blast Earth to bits on screen. Nate grabs a handful of popcorn from the tub I hold firmly in my lap. I wonder what I am supposed to do. Do I lean over and put my head on his shoulder? Do I bury my face in his chest and pretend to be afraid of the guys in rubber suits on screen? Do I sit here, frozen like a statue in the Geek Hall of Fame? I focus so much on what I should or shouldn’t be doing that I pay almost no attention to the movie.
The thing is, this isn’t how I pictured my first date. For one, Livvy should be here. For another, well, I don’t know what the “another” should be, but this isn’t how I thought it would work.
More giggling, followed by perturbed “shhh” sounds.
“Get a room,” Nate says in a loud whisper.
“Shhh.”
I sneak a look over my shoulder. Chris nuzzles Amanda’s neck. She must be really ticklish.
“You know what they say,” Nate whispers in my ear. “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”
I turn to look at him, not sure exactly what he means. Then it happens. As I’m turning my head, he leans in to kiss me and—smack—we bang heads.
“Ouch,” I say. I grab for my forehead and the bucket of popcorn tumbles out of my hands and spills down the necks and arms of the people in front of me. Then I start to laugh. I can’t help it. I didn’t know he was going to kiss me, and the fact that we head-butted seems so classically dorky to me, I start to giggle. Nate starts to snicker, too.
“Shhh.”
The guy I just baptized with popcorn turns and glares at Nate. This only makes me laugh more, and I clap a hand over my mouth to try and stifle the giggles. The harder I try not to laugh, the more I can’t help it.
Nate buries his head in his hands, and I think he’s totally embarrassed to be seen with me. My giggles come instantly under control. My first date with Nate will probably be my last one.
I lean over. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to . . .”
He’s laughing. “It’s okay,” he says.
“Shhh.”
“Shhh,” I say back.
Nate laughs harder. I get the giggles again. Maybe it’s nerves. Maybe I’m a total loser. Is knocking heads and spilling popcorn that funny?
“Shhh,” say the people around us.
“Come on,” Nate says. He takes my hand and leads me, still giggling, out of the theater. We hit the lobby and both bust out laughing.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
“What for?”
“I don’t know. For making you miss the movie?”
“It’s totally lame,” he says. “That was just too funny, though.”
“What, that we clobbered each other?”
“Yeah,” he says, then draws a deep breath. “I mean, I’m trying to be so suave, and you’re, like, totally into this movie . . .”
“Oh, not at all,” I say. Lame is not a strong enough word for this film.
“And then, wham.” Nate bangs his fists together and starts laughing again. “And the popcorn goes all over that guy, and he’s staring at me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You keep saying that. There’s nothing to be sorry for. That was classic.”
We sit on one of the cushioned benches in the lobby. A few last giggles escape, and I realize that I’m not feeling like such a loser anymore.
“So what should we do now?” I ask. Not that I mind sitting here with Nate doing nothing.
“Let’s see if Chris and Amanda come out. Maybe we can go get pizza or something.”
I lean over and rest my head on Nate’s shoulder. Then I realize what I’m doing and I sit up fast.
“Why’d you move? I was enjoying that.”
My heart does one, perfect flip, then settles back where it belongs. I scooch over a little closer and rest my head on his shoulder again. It feels good. Better than I imagined.
Sooner than I would like, Chris and Amanda emerge from the theater.
“Dude, this movie totally sucks,” Chris says.
Nate stands, and the sudden lack of his body is like a blast of cold air. “Yeah, let’s bail.”
For a moment I think he is going to walk out and completely forget that I came with him. Then he turns, holds out his hand, and helps me up from the bench. He holds my hand all the way to the car. He opens the door for me and then holds my hand while we drive—except when he needs to shift gears. I make a mental note to be sure my first car has an automatic transmission.
Nate pulls into the Medieval Pie pizzeria and we order the Camelot special. We all laugh. We all eat pizza. We hold our own pinball game tournament, which I lose dreadfully but have more fun at than anyone.
We pile into the Mazda and take Chris and Amanda home. Then it’s just the two of us. Me and Nate. Me and the guy I have dreamed about for the better portion of my life. We pull into my driveway, and I am hit by a sudden anger at the word “curfew.”
“I had a great time tonight,” Nate says.
“Me, too.”
“I’m really glad you’re going with me on Friday.”
“Me, too.”
“I really want to kiss you.”
“Me, too.”
This time there is no banging heads. This time there is only soft, warm lips that brush mine and send tingles through my whole body that don’t stop until they reach my toes. There is a warm hand on my cheek. Nate looks at me, his eyes lowered just enough that he looks even more gorgeous than I have ever imagined him.
“You’d better get inside. I don’t want your dad to get mad at me.”
His words are like a shot of cold water.
“If I keep you out too late,” he says, “he won’t let me take you out again.”
He kisses me again, and my whole body feels warm inside.
It takes all my focus to pull back and reach for the door handle. “I had a really fun time with you.”
“Me, too,” he says.