What If It's Us(38)

“What’s our motivation?” I ask. “We get three shots.”

“I am not throwing away my shot,” Arthur says. He looks at me expectantly. “Hamilton?”

“Oh. Right.” People are obsessed with that show. I haven’t heard a single song, but it’s not something I should bring up now.

“I have so much to teach you, Ben.”

A timer counts down from three. For the first photo, we wing it. Arthur leans against me and we both smile, super simple. For the second photo Arthur sticks out his tongue and says “Aaaaaah” like a doctor is inspecting his mouth. I do an exaggerated wink. For the third photo Arthur turns to me. My heart is racing because he looks like he wants to kiss, but I’m not there yet. I know this is all really cute, that I’m actually reunited with the boy I met at the post office, but no matter how charming he is, I can’t force myself to kiss him before I’m ready. Before I mean it. We just stare and smile at each other when that last flash goes off.

We step out of the booth and we each get a reel to keep. We’re actually really cute together.

“That last photo is something,” Arthur says. “I . . . Never mind.”

“Go ahead.”

Arthur stares at his sneakers. “I look way happier than you. It’s cool if you want to call this quits. If you’re still caught up on your ex, I get it. Well, I don’t get it. But I can imagine.”

“No, I just . . . I had a lot of fun, but I know I wasn’t fully here,” I say. That’s my fault. I brought my date somewhere I used to come with my ex-boyfriend. I also don’t know how much I should really be investing in this since Arthur is just going to leave at the end of the summer anyway.

We’re both quiet. I really want to see Arthur the way he sees me. It might take time though, and time isn’t really on our side.

Arthur sighs and stares at the floor. “I screwed up my first date. Go me.”

“No, you didn’t screw it up . . . I’m the one who messed up. I’m always ready to flip off anything good the universe throws my way since I swear the universe hates me. But maybe the universe is just playing the long game. Like everything that’s ever gone wrong was so it could be right later. I don’t know.”

“So the date was good? Or wrong?”

“The date wasn’t wrong, I just think that if the universe is setting us up here that our story deserves a more epic first date,” I say. “I really want to see you again. Maybe we should have a do-over date.”

“Like a first date? Again?”

“Exactly. This time you can plan it. Whatever you want.”

“Challenge accepted.”

We smile as we shake on it.





Chapter Fifteen


Arthur


Sunday, July 15

A do-over date. And I’m the one who’s supposed to plan it.

I didn’t even know this was a thing. I thought they were just called second dates.

A do-over.

But at least I get to see him again. Which is convenient, since he’s all I can think about. I can’t even get out of bed. I’m too busy staring at the photo strip of us together. And yeah, we look a little like Pepé Le Pew and his bewildered cat girlfriend, but we really do seem like a couple. If you saw these pictures, you would not conclude that Ben and I are platonic bros. But the idea of myself as part of a couple is so intensely surreal, I can’t even wrap my head around it.

I finally wander out into the living room around ten in gym shorts and glasses. Dad’s on the couch, drinking coffee with the news on mute. “Why are we watching the orange guy?” I ask, sinking into the cushion beside him.

Dad shuts the TV off. “Good morning, Romeo.”

“Wow. Please don’t.”

Dad’s brow furrows. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t be weird.”

“Uh-uh. Nope,” Dad says. “This is not My So-Called Life.”

“I don’t understand that reference, Dad.”

“You’re not The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I did not just rent The Breakfast Club.”

“What does that—”

“It means chill with the fake teen angst. This is your first date, and I want to hear about it.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird that we talk about this stuff?”

“Why? Because I’m your dad?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

He just gapes at me, like he’s trying to process that.

I sigh. “It was fine, Dad. It was an okay date. We have another one tomorrow.”

“Whoa. Look at you. Second date.”

“Well, it’s not a second date. It’s a second first date. We’re having a do-over.”

Dad strokes his beard. “That’s interesting.”

“I know.”

“But he clearly likes you.”

I sit up. “You think?”

“Well, he wants another date.”

“Yeah. God. I don’t know how to do this.”

“How to plan a do-over date?”

“I don’t even know how to plan a regular date.”

Honestly, how am I supposed to know how to pick a destination and set the mood and charm Ben’s pants off? Not literally. Kind of literally, though.