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53 - Second Firsts

Totally not proofread lol

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53 – Second Firsts

Maya Sumedh

 

“So what time is he picking you up?”

 I only had to get through a day, but thoughts of Tuesday’s date still made me fluttery. When Zania Mausi posed the above question on Tuesday morning, I looked up from my plateful of scrambled eggs with a stupid grin on my face. I saw Dad roll his eyes over the Boston Herald. Ma was in the shower.

 “Um, I don’t know.”

 “Because you’re coming with me to yoga today,” Mausi said, pointing her fork at me. “Class is at five.”

 I pouted. “No, but –”

 “No buts.”

 “That’s the spirit,” Dad said, nodding into the newspaper. I threw a napkin at him.

 “Tell him he can pick you up from there,” Mausi said, waving her fork dismissively.

 “Let me just call him,” I muttered. It was eight in the morning and I didn’t know if he’d be awake because we hung up the phone at like two the previous night. I dialed him anyway.

 When he answered, his voice was sleepy and hoarse. (It was a little hot. Or more than a little.)

 “What do you want?”

 “Good morning,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What time are you picking me up today?”

 There was silence for a second and then he muttered, “Fuck. Fuck, fuck.”

 “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

 Zania Mausi snorted into her cereal. I scowled at her.

 “No, I didn’t forget, of course I didn’t forget. Nothing. Just – uh, wait. Just wait.”

 “Okay,” I mumbled. There was rustling and silence and then he said “Hello?” again.

 “Where are we going?”

 “I do– I’m not telling you.”

 He didn’t know. I just nodded, smiling to myself.

 “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

 “Oh,” I mumbled. “I’ll be at yoga then.”

 “Then I’ll pick you up from yoga.”

 “Luke –”

 “No, that’s it. Six thirty. Text me the place.”

 “I don’t like you,” I mumbled. Dad muttered, “Yeah right.”

 “I don’t like you either,” Luke said cheerily. “So we’re on the same page. Now go away, I have to wake up properly.”

 “Screw you,” I whispered into the phone. He laughed.

 “Goodbye, darling.”

“Ugh, bye.”

(I subtly tried to ignore the jitters I got when he called me darling, even if it was sarcastic. Or was it?)

 “So?” Mausi asked when I cut the call.

 I pursed my lips.

 “Six-thirty it is.”