she said. I wondered if she had actually seen him sink the winning basket, or if she was just
repeating what she'd heard other people say.
"Yeah," said Dave. "Nice going." He and Connor high-fived across the table.
"Thanks, man," said Connor. He'd taken off his jacket and his sweater and was just wearing a
snug gray T-shirt that showed how well defined his shoulders were. My stomach flipped over,
and I had to look away.
"So, Red," he said. It took a minute before I realized
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he was talking to me. "How'd you like the game?" He put his hand on the back of my chair.
"It was a great game," I told him. "I was biting my nails the whole time."
"Lucy knows everything about basketball," Jessica informed Connor.
"Well, after that Lakers' victory, I'm planning to take her predictions a lot more seriously," said Connor, smiling a private smile at me.
"What?" asked Madison, and when Connor didn't explain, she turned to Matt. "What
predictions?" she asked.
I smiled back at Connor and looked into his blue, blue eyes. "Is that why you wanted me to come
tonight?" I asked, tilting my head. "To get my picks for the finals?"
He arched an eyebrow at me. "Maybe it is," he said. "Maybe it is."
When there was nothing left of the two large pies we'd ordered except a few pieces of crust,
Jessica, Madison, and I excused ourselves and went to the bathroom. While Jessica and I peed,
Madison stood in front of the mirror telling us how many calories are in a slice. As soon as I
came out of the stall, Madison turned to me and asked if I thought she looked fat. When I said
no, she waited for Jessica to emerge and then asked if she thought she looked fat. Jessica said no.
Madison said we
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were both lying and pinched the flesh just above her hip to prove it.
When we got back to the table, there was a pile of money in the center. I reached into my bag for
some cash. "Don't worry about it," said Connor, "I've got you." I've got you.
Then he smiled at me, like paying for my dinner was the most natural thing in the world.
"Thanks," I said. But what I meant was, Connor, you have got me.
Connor stood up and so did Dave and Matt. "You ladies can treat us to ice cream," said Matt.
"Ah, hello," said Madison as we followed the guys out of Piazzolla's, "I am so not eating ice cream. Do you know how many grams of fat are in an ice-cream cone?"
We walked down Main Street toward a gelato place, and for the first block or two I felt totally
self-conscious about how silent Connor and I were being. Jessica and Dave were having some
kind of heated conversation (Jessica was waving her arms around and Dave kept nodding), and
Madison and Matt were laughing, but Connor and I were just walking along not talking at all.
Right when I was sure my lack of having anything interesting to say was turning my dream date
into a nightmare, Connor took his hand and put it on the back of my neck.
You might think it's uncomfortable to have someone hold you by the neck, but it isn't. Quite the
opposite, in
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fact. I don't know if it was all that practice with a basketball, but Connor Pearson knew just how
to put his hand on the back of someone's neck--not too gently, not too tightly. By the time we got
to the gelato place, he was using his thumb and forefinger to give me a really light massage, and
I knew it didn't matter that we weren't talking.
We wandered around the village eating our ice cream for a while until the guys had to get home
for curfew. Madison waved at me as she and Matt walked over to his car, and Jessica gave me a
hug as passionate as any of the post-math ones she exchanges with Madison.
"I'll see you Monday," she called, finally releasing me and heading off to Dave's car.
"Yeah, see you Monday," I said. Connor and I walked to his car and he held the door open while
I slid onto the cool leather seat.
All night I'd been trying to maintain my air of sophisticated nonchalance, like going out with
cute, popular, older guys was something I'd done fairly regularly at Wellington. Now that
Connor and I were alone together, however, the facade was cracking. Violently. My stomach was
in knots. My mouth was Saharan. I reached into my bag to get out a mint. But as soon as my
fingers made contact with the tin, it occurred to me that perhaps popping a curiously strong
breath mint right as I got in the car would seem slutty, like, Hello, I assume we'll be making out
momentarily, and I'd like to be prepared.
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I zipped my bag shut leaving the Altoids inside.
I'd never been in a car with a guy before. I mean, obviously I'd been in a car with a male member
of the species, but I had never been driven home from a date by a date. Connor hit a button on the radio and Mos Def came on. The volume was a little too loud for us to talk, but Connor didn't
seem to mind, so neither did I. He rested his hand lightly on my knee as he drove.
When we got to my neighborhood, I spoke my first and only words of the entire ride: "Make a
left at the corner," followed by "It's the third one on the right."
"Well, this is it," I said. As Connor pulled up in front of my house and put the car in park, my duplicitous palms started sweating.
"Hey, Red," he said, and he unbuckled his seat belt.
In the dim light from the dashboard, I could just make out his chiseled cheekbones and perfect
profile. And then everything began to get blurry, and I realized he was leaning toward me.
His lips were soft, and he put his hands on either side of my neck and moved his fingers gently
through my hair. Kissing him felt like drinking a glass of cold, clear water when you're parched.
I wanted it to go on forever. When he finally pulled away and I opened my eyes, I couldn't really
focus them.
"I should go," he said softly. "Curfew."
"Oh, right," I said. "Curfew."
"I had a great time tonight," he said.
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I could barely form words; my lips were made of liquid.
"Me, too," I finally managed to say.
"So I'll see you Monday?" he said.
I nodded, reached over to open the door, and started to get out without taking off my seat belt,
which jerked me back. I landed right where I'd started.
"I forgot to take off my seat belt," I said. Even though I hadn't had anything to drink, I felt drunk.
"Yeah," he said, and he leaned in and kissed me again before reaching down to unbuckle my seat
belt for me. "There you go," he said.
"Thanks," I said. I slid out the door and shut it behind me. Now it was as if my entire body had turned to water; it took some focus for me to coordinate stepping away from the car.
I turned and watched as Connor drove off. My cheeks felt hot and my lips swollen, as if I'd been
biting them. Then I floated up to the house, realizing it was possible I had just experienced the
most perfect night of my life.
Apparently being Cinderella isn't so bad after all.
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Chapter Eight
When I woke up in the morning I felt as good as if I'd won the NBA finals. Not only had I had