Chapter 29

Ryder

In the days to follow until our date, we’ve been more touchy than usual: casually leaning against each other, linking our pinkies under the table, holding hands while we walk in that field behind the art storage room when Mae can’t make it to the library.

She saw us sharing (in)discreet looks one time and she lost her shit, saying something about ships and fanfics or something. But I’m not in the mood to entertain her any further.

Now, it’s just Nathan and me.

*

Holy shit. I’m panicking.

It’s now Wednesday evening and I’ve been too absorbed in Nathan to actually prepare my date clothes.

Fuck. Me.

Here I am with a sufficient amount of brain cells and/or the balls to ask the hypothetical boy-I-like out (Nathan) and I'm almost ruining my first date experience. Damn.

Nick’s not here to help me - he’s out with his family today - so I’m standing shirtless in front of my almost-empty wardrobe, looking at the mess I made. I’ve never trashed my room before (unless things got really out of hand in the past) and the amount of clothes lying around just makes my stomach hurt. Shit, I only have an hour left.

I’ve just about given up when my conscience speaks up in my head: Mae! Call Mae! I’m about to rethink this but what do you know? It’s worth a try. So I call her, willing my hands to stop shaking. She doesn’t answer but she sends me a text instead.

Mae: Don’t call me

Mae: I don’t work well with that

Me: Sorry uh

Me: I have a date with Nathan and idfk what to wear

Mae: SWJSVCDJSCW

Mae: Wanna hear something funny?

I squint at her reply. What’s she on to?

Me: Sure

Mae: We’re outside your door

What the fuck? We?! I’m about to ask her when, sure enough, she knocks on my door. Wow, she’s fast - I still don’t know how she got here so quickly, probably because she’s been stalking me or something. I get out of my room and open the door.

Mae wheezes, catching her breath. In her arms are multiple shopping bags. Beside her is a panting Connor, carrying two bags. “Damn, look at you,” they say, looking at me up and down.

Oh right, I’m still shirtless. “Why the fuck are you both here?” I ask.

Mae waves a dismissive hand at me, still coughing. “To help you on your date, doofus,” she says.

I sputter, trying to wrap my head around this whole situation. “Huh- but what- you’re twisted.”

Her face scrunches up in consideration. “Well,” she says, “I have scoliosis. Very slight. Anyways- ”

Both Connor and Mae push their way into my house, and I can hear Mae complaining about the colossal wardrobe disaster in my room. I sigh, close the door, and head to my room. While Mae helps me tidy my clothes, Connor explains that they both just came back from the mall and were passing by.

“And then Mae was like, ‘Should we crash Ryder’s house?’ And I was like, ‘Nah, he’s probably making out with Nathan,’ and she was like, ‘They aren’t even together yet. And, I don’t know, I just got a feeling.’ So we were already up your elevator, a floor below yours,” Connor says, now laughing. “And that’s when you called her. Then, we ran like hell to your door.”

I shake my head, bewildered. “The universe is shitting me,” I say, thinking I’m high on that undercooked Easy Mac I ate three hours ago.

“The universe is massive-weird.” They grin and Mae shushes us.

Andbutso I just sit on my bed. My hands start to go cold and shake again when I think about the date. This is it. I can do it. I’m not going to embarrass myself anymore. My heart flutters again when I think of Nathan. Oh my god, I’m so excited to see him.

Connor gives my shoulder a reassuring pat, and I smile gratefully at them.

“Man,” Mae says after she inspects my wardrobe, “you need better clothes. Good thing I bought something for you.”

She hands me a brand new striped button-up. “It was supposed to be for your birthday, but I got too excited,” she says.

“My birthday’s in a week,” I remind her, staring at the shirt. It looks so far from my normal style of dark T-shirts (plain or band tees), but it looks nice. After all, I want to look nice for my first date.

“Exactly! Now go try that on or you’ll be late.”

*

I find Nathan standing outside our meeting place - the Italian restaurant - looking a little lost. I straighten my shirt, my dog tag catching light while I do that, and head over to him. We make eye contact and immediately, his face brightens and he rushes forward to hug me. I chuckle and tighten my arms around him.

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” I apologise to him.

He looks up at me with those beautiful doe eyes and beams. “That’s alright!”

He’s wearing a white collared shirt underneath an oversized jade sweater, brown corduroys and white sneakers. He looks so adorable and precious, I want to scream. But I stop myself before I do something stupid like cry on the spot.

We take our seats at the back of the restaurant where it’s relatively quieter. People chatter around us, stuffing their faces with food. I give Nathan an awkward smile and he returns it, blushing, then we pretend to study the menu. I fiddle with my belt chain anxiously when the waitress arrives at our table.

“Are you both on a date?” She plasters on a polite smile.

I subconsciously bounce my leg and nod. “Uh, yeah. Can I have the spaghetti Frutti di Mare?”

“You bet. And you?”

“I’ll have the, um, seafood aglio olio,” Nathan says.

“Sure thing. Anything else?” The waitress asks. And because I cannot help it (and due to nerves) I order a bunch of other things too - a small pizza, mushroom soup, garlic bread and whatnot. The prices of the food here are relatively cheap, so my bank account won’t be hurt that much.

After the waitress goes away, Nathan gapes at me. “That’s a lot.”

I rub the back of my neck. “Sorry, but I’ll finish them if you can’t.”

Back when I used to go here with my family, the table would be full of food. I guess being big eaters run in the family, but I also happen to have a fast metabolism. Aunt Cam told me once that I can empty a whole restaurant and still look the same.

“No, I’ll help you.”

“You sure?” I squint at him, smiling.

He grins. “Definitely.”

Nathan

I haven’t eaten since brunch, so I’m sure I can finish it all with him. And that, I did - we’re already done eating, just waiting for dessert. Luckily, the portions here are quite small, but they’re also really delicious.

“Have you ever cooked Italian food before?” I ask, dipping my garlic bread in some mushroom soup and finishing it in two bites (this garlic bread is really good).

Ryder nods, forking through lone strands of pasta on his otherwise empty plate. “I’ve cooked pasta con Pomodoro e Basilico, which is pasta with tomato and basil sauce, and” - he tilts his chin towards my plate - “aglio olio, and crispy prosciutto pasta too.

“I’ve also made tuna tartare, except that I’m not a big fan of raw tuna so I changed it to salmon - I guess I should’ve just said salmon tartare instead, and, wait. It’s not even Italian.” He shakes his head, staring at his plate. “Nevermind, I’m just. . . . ”

His right hand is on the table, nervously drumming with his fingers. I reach out with my free hand and give his cold hand a squeeze, smiling. He looks up, and he returns my smile. Then, putting his fork on his plate, he props up his cheek with it. I do the same.

Ryder softly strokes the back of my hand with his thumb. After a while, he flips our hands over, so my hand is under his. With a touch so light I’m not sure it’s even there, he reaches under my sweater sleeve and traces imaginary figures on the inside of my wrist. All this while, he’s staring at me longingly, eyes twinkling.

It would have been romantic, us gazing dreamily at each other if it wasn’t for me giggling - I couldn’t help it. “Sorry,” I say as he stops drawing on my skin at that. “That’s a little ticklish.”

His hand retracts a little. “Oh, uh . . .” His eyes are downcast, but he’s still smiling shyly, with those strands of hair falling over his eyes. I don’t know why, but seeing him like this sends blood rushing up to my cheeks.

As if on cue, the waitress comes to serve our desserts - well, it’s actually just one dish of chocolate lava cake. She smiles again and tells us to enjoy our date - I smiled back rather awkwardly - and left.

In between us sits a circular chocolate cake with a dollop of vanilla ice cream on a pristine white plate. I can tell that Ryder’s eaten this countless times because he lets me have the first bite. (Tragically, I’ve never eaten this before. What kind of cakeless life am I living? I mean, apart from the strawberry cake we baked together, and of course, birthday cakes.)

“Go on,” he says. “Try it together with the ice cream.”

So I take a spoonful of the cake and the ice cream, and . . . wow, what? I know it’s lava cake, but I didn’t actually expect warm melted chocolate. It contrasts with the cold vanilla ice cream, yet compliments it. It’s just so good.

“Good,” I manage through a mouthful.

“Right?”

I swallow. “I’ve never eaten this before- ”

“You’ve never tried a lava cake before?” Ryder asks, surprised. “Really?”

I shake my head, trying not to laugh. “I’ve been living a cakeless life, you see.”

He chuckles, taking his spoon. “Uh-huh.” His smiling eyes meet mine, with our hands still joined on the table. “Good thing I’m here, then.”

“Throughout my whole time with you, I’ve only tried two new things.”

“Wrong; I bet it’s more than that. You owe me some magical life-changing culinary experience, Nate.”

I laugh. “Fair enough.”

*

“Hey there, hottie.”

A couple of girls make their way toward us as we’re walking outside. The tall brunette rests her hand on Ryder’s arm while the shorter blonde gazes at him. “My friend and I are going to this club. Wanna come along?” She - the brunette - purrs. (Like, actually purrs at him.)

I start to distance myself a little from them, slightly embarrassed by what’s happening but Ryder’s hand closes around mine, keeping me still. “Actually,” he says, holding our joined hands up, “we’re in the middle of a date. So, if you don’t mind . . . .”

The brunette looks at us, mildly disgusted, while the blonde looks away, embarrassed. Then the brunette grabs her friend by the arm who winces slightly.

“Come on, Casey.” The brunette scowls, turning on her heels and sashaying away (which makes me cringe really badly). Casey looks back one last time to shoot an apologetic look. And they’re gone.

“That was weird,” Ryder whispers and I nod. Then I remember that our hands are still together. He does too because he gives my hand a squeeze.

“Nevermind that. Tonight, it’s only us.”

I squeeze his hand back, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. “Only us.”

______________________

I broke my character-art-at-the-end-of-the-book policy so here's some Ryder and Nathan date doodle

and also to give yall an idea of how they look like:

SEE YALL NEXT CHAPTER I'M GONNA COMBUST I HOPE YALL READY 😗✌️