Or maybe he never meant it.
Maybe it really was a hallucination.
Whatever the case, I’m crying now. Hot tears roll down my cheeks, splashing on the silk tank top I’d put on for a date that isn’t happening. I know it’s messing up my makeup but there’s no point in caring about that now. I’ve been stood up.
My phone buzzes a few minutes later. Probably April, wondering how the date is going. My cheeks burn as I think about how I’ll tell her. This is so embarrassing.
When I check the text, it’s not from April.
Caleb:you ready?
I swallow and quickly wipe away my tears. It’s 8:30 at night, but it’s still technically Friday. My heart pounds as I think about what to write back. Did he forget about me and then remember last minute? Or is going out this late just what the cool kids do?
Me:For what?
Caleb:ha ha. Be there to pick you up in five mins
I jump out of bed. Maybe this is normal. Maybe the popular jocks always go out on dates at 8:30 on Fridays. Was I just feeling sorry for myself for nothing? Who cares! There’s no freaking time to think about this.
I rip off my tear-soaked silk shirt and put on another one, a dark blue tight fitting shirt that shows a little cleavage. I run to the bathroom and touch up my makeup and then grab my purse and wait by the door.
Mom looks over at me, pausing her movie. “You’re still here? I thought you had a date.”
“I’m about to leave,” I say, throwing my hair over my shoulder. It’s important to act casual now because if Mom suspects that I’ve just been upstairs crying, she’ll probably want to talk about it. “The movie starts late,” I explain with a smile even though I have no idea what we’re doing tonight. The movies are a possible option, though, and they do have late movies. Maybe I was worried for nothing.
“Well don’t invite him in,” Mom says, tugging her bathrobe closer around her chest. “I’m not fit for company.”
Fine by me, I think. Meeting the parents is always so awkward. A few minutes later, I see headlights pull into our driveway, so I tell Mom bye and dash outside. Caleb grins at me from the driver’s side of his truck. Some of the knots in my stomach fade away. I don’t know what I was so worried about.
I reach for the passenger door handle just as the door pops open on its own.
Then I realize it wasn’t accidental—someone from the backseat leaned forward and opened it. “Hi,” I say as I climb into the car. There are two football players in the backseat, both smelling like body wash and liquor.
“Sup, little mama?” one of them says.
I turn to Caleb, a questioning look in the smile I give him. “Natalie, these idiots are Jeremiah and JT. Don’t let them hit on you, you’re with me tonight.”
His grin warms me up inside and I want to make all of the truck’s air vents blow on my face to cool me down. So we’re not alone. That’s okay. He’s just claimed me as his, which is kind of hot.
I buckle up and tell myself to act cool as he pulls out of the driveway and heads toward downtown Sterling.
“You have a good week?” he asks me. I nod. He nods back. “Cool.”
We go to the arcade, which is like part restaurant, part bar, part arcade games. There’s five more guys from the team there and it seems like they’ve already been drinking despite not being old enough to order anything at the bar.
Caleb introduces me to the guys and then promptly gets into a battle of air hockey with one of them, leaving me standing awkward and alone.
It goes on like this all night. Caleb and his friends play arcade games, loudly cheering and messing with each other. I play a few games just to fit in, but I’m not having fun. This is not a date. I don’t even know what this is.
I don’t really have a curfew since I’m never out very late and my mom is pretty relaxed about stuff like that, but when it’s nearly midnight, I decide to make my escape from this shitty night.
“Hey,” I say, tugging on Caleb’s arm. He’s focused on the intense game of foosball in front of him because he’s supposed to play whoever wins this round.
“You hungry?” he says, putting an arm on my lower back. He glances at me for just a second and then looks back at the game. That’s how it’s been all night. The only time we talk is if he’s asking if I want something. He did buy me a drink and some cheese fries earlier, but then he hung out with his friends instead of eating with me.
I shake my head. “It’s getting late. I think I’ll head home.”
“I drove you,” he says, dipping his head as he grins at me. “You can’t get home without me.”
