At the boardwalk, I find a parking spot next to the Flying Mermaid, which is a surf shop that supplies pretty much all of the clothes I wear all summer.
“I haven’t been to the beach in a while,” Clarissa says as we make our way toward the restaurant. The boardwalk stretches on for a few miles along the Texas coast. There are tons of stores and restaurants along the way, and beyond the wooden railing is the beach for as far as you can see. Since it’s the end of August, there’s still enough summertime left for the surfers to be out enjoying the waves.
“I come here as much as I can,” I say. I want to reach for her hand, but I know it’s too soon for that. “Lately all I do is work and play soccer, so there’s not much time for it.”
“The only thing stopping me is that I don’t have a car,” she says. The breeze blows her hair around and she runs her fingers through it to straighten it out. “I’m one of the only juniors at the school who has no wheels.”
“That’s no fun,” I say, holding open the door to The Apple Pie for her. “Took me three years of working to save up for mine. I actually started mowing lawns when I was fourteen just for the sole purpose of buying my truck.”
“Wow, way to plan ahead. I’m saving my money for college, but the daycare does not pay very much. And it’s only three hours a day, a few times a week.” She makes this face and it’s so cute I want to kiss it off her.
But I have to keep my hands to myself, at least for now.Be a gentleman, Gavin.
“If you ever need a ride and I’m free, I’d be happy to drive you wherever you want to go.”
She stares into her soda. “Thanks.”
“I’m serious,” I say. “That wasn’t some empty offer.”
“Do you make empty offers often?” she asks in this teasing way.
I shrug. “Sometimes, yeah. But only to the jackasses I call friends.”
“Well, at least you’re honest,” she says with a playful grin.
We get our food and eat it on the restaurant’s balcony that overlooks the beach. I am terrified that the conversation will lag, so I try to keep talking.
“So what’s your schedule like this year?”
Inwardly, I cringe. That’s about the lamest question you can ask a girl on a first date.
“Let’s see,” she says, counting off on her fingers. “Boring, boring, boring, boring, and boring. The only class I really like is my sixth period sign language class.”
“I took French, but I wish I’d taken sign language,” I say. “Then I could have secret conversations in class.”
“We already can,” she says with a coy smile. “It’s called text messaging. It lets you talk without verbally saying anything. You should look it up.”
“I see how it is,” I say, fixing her with a stare. “You go out with a guy, looking cute as hell, and then you rag on him for not being a genius.”
She stops laughing and her expression turns serious. “So,isthis a date?”
“Yes,” I say, wondering if I haven’t made that part clear.
“Like a real date?” she asks, her voice getting a little bit higher.
I nod and bite on a French fry. “I mean, I want it to be a real date. I fully intend on buying your dinner and refusing you if you try to pay for part of it.”
Her cheeks turn a glorious shade of pink. “Okay. I was just wondering.”
“Do you often go out with guys and it’s not a date?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I mean, all signs pointed to this being a date, but I wasn’t sure. So I just wanted to ask and get it out in the open.” She puts her hands on her face. “Am I ruining this?”
“No,” I say, reaching out and pulling her hand down. I let my fingers slide down her arm, down her palm, and across her fingertips. “I’m having a really good time making you nervous.” I grin and she glares at me, her lips pressing together.
“Not very gentlemanly of you, Gavin.”
“I’ll behave,” I say. We talk for a while about every random topic we can think of. School, mostly, and a little about how her friend Livi also doesn’t have a car so they rarely get to hang out after school. When our food is done, I stand up and hold out my hand.
