Seven Dates

Chapter Five

"I'm sorry. You're probably a really great guy," I apologize. I mean it, too. He probably is a dream guy for the right straight girl. "You're right about me not being super open to the idea. I'll try to give the date more of a chance."

I'm not sure why those words leave my lips. Kyle's face lightens up as soon as I say them and I immediately feel awful. It's not like I'm bisexual. I'm a lesbian. I don't feel attracted to Kyle at all and no amount of great date will change that.

Kyle motions for me to go ahead and split the pool balls. I'm happy to focus on literally anything else right now. I line up my pool ball beating stick and slam it into the white ball. A few of the balls fly off of the table but I do manage to get one striped ball to bounce into a hole in one.

"I appreciate that. Nice shot, too," he compliments. He takes his turn and gets three holes in one. Nice shot, yeah right, I think. He's basically a professional player. He must have noticed the look on my face because he chuckles at me and says, "I promise that was just luck. I'm really not that good."

"Yeah, sure. I know when I'm being hustled," I retort. "You got three hole in ones!"

"I'm sorry, what did you just call them?" He asks, laughing. I don't know what's so funny.

Instead of replying, I squint my eyes at him and wheel my way around the pool table to take my next shots. I miss, of course. He hits two in. I miss again. He misses, but I'm pretty sure it's just because he's trying not to hurt my feelings. I take another shot and finally hit one in.

"There you go," he cheers. I try my best not to give him the stink eye. His gaze shifts over toward our table. "Oh, our food is coming out," he comments. We clean up the pool area, hang up our pool ball beating sticks, and head back over to our table to meet our adorable waitress.

I stare down at my chicken caesar salad. I've never had one of them here, and I know it's no substitute for a hearty cheeseburger, but at least it looks pretty good. I look over at Kyle's plate. He has some sort of seasoned steak on it with a side of mashed potatoes. I guess he has to eat hearty for sports. Or maybe he's just used to the women he's with ordering salads.

At any rate, I wish I was eating his meal instead of mine. Red meat makes me weak.

We share a bit of small talk. He asks me how my salad is. I ask him what kind of seasonings are on his steak. He asks me if the lemonade is good. I ask him when his next sports match is.

I feel guilty every time he looks at me and flashes an earnest, dimpled smile. On several different occasions, I feel ready to just come out and tell him the truth, but I don't know how he would react if I did.

Eventually we clean our plates and, to my relief, the meal is over. I make a point to tell him I don't want dessert before the waitress comes to the table, just in case he was planning to order it for us. She brings the check, Kyle pays, I thank him, and we leave the restaurant.

"Do you want to go back to my car real quick?" He asks, grinning.

My heart sinks into my stomach. I feel even queasier than before.

I take a deep breath and thoughts scurry across my brain. My parents are the biggest thing on my mind. Could I ever force myself to like a guy and live the life they'd want for me? Getting married, having kids, and not being the weird black sheep of the family?

For the sake of my parents, I should earnestly give this thing a chance. I really haven't dated much so maybe being with guys isn't that bad. Maybe I just think it's bad. What if it's just the thought and not the act that makes me feel sick?

My insides feel like they're churning. I look over at Kyle, still waiting for an answer from me. Kyle isn't my optimal choice for a guy to have my first kiss with, but he's pretty much every girl's optimal pick, isn't he? And I'm sure he's done plenty of kissing so he can't be bad at it.

"Yeah, I'd like to do that," I force myself to say. Kyle's face brightens up and he wraps his hand around my waist awkwardly and sort of slowly pushes me toward the vehicle. I wonder if his hand is around my waist because he's afraid I'm going to try to make a run for it. I still might, I think, looking back at my car.

Once again he opens the door for me and I sit myself down on his plush black leather seats. I'm in some sort of sports car, but I've never been good with knowing the makes or models of vehicles. It's definitely something his parents bought for him. He slides into the driver's seat next to me but doesn't start the car. He just turns his head and gazes at me, moving his face close to mine.

I clench my teeth. If it's ever going to happen, it's going to happen now. I lean forward and lock lips with him. He smells like really thick aftershave up close and his lips move oddly against mine, like we're two pieces of different puzzles trying to fit together. His tongue brushes my closed mouth and then when I try to open it our teeth clack against each other. Kyle pulls away.

"I think we were both on different tracks there," he laughs. "Want to try again?" He smiles at me but I just can't do it. I excuse myself and scurry back to my own vehicle. I glance down and notice a text from Brent a couple minutes later asking what went wrong on the date. I clench my hands tighter on the wheel.