Bad Boy, Good Boy (boyxboy)

32 - hello 2

A/N: Short chapter, because that's all I have energy for. I'm working on multiple projects. 

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chapter 32 – hello 2

Luke

I've been thinking of organizing a date night for Nolan and me. I ordered a mini projector online, I went to the store and bought snacks and was keen on making dinner. And then – because I was feeling a little silly – I found a puzzle with a thousand pieces. It was a stormy sea setting with ships and pirates, and I figured the perfect thing would be a movie marathon of Pirates of the Caribbean, the first three movies.

But then on the morning of my elaborate plan Nolan pulls me aside after breakfast and I can see from his face he is excited about something.

"Tell me," I say.

He is so giddy and his cheeks are rosy. It is almost like he can't stand still.

"I thought about it and...I want to take you somewhere," he says.

He places his hands on my shoulders and takes a breath.

I stand, waiting.

Then he reconsiders. "Actually, there's a couple of places I want to take you, but we can't be all over the place. We have to start somewhere, you know."

"Yes? No, I actually don't know. You're being weird."

He gives me a peck on the cheek and says, "Wear something nice. Not too fancy though. Just...nice. And meet me outside, OK?"

"Do I need to pack anything? Some food?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows. I mean the man is ruining my plans and now I have to put on a brave face? It all seems fishy and I am ready to get angry if he has made more special plans for the two of us. He keeps rubbing it under my nose how perfect of a life partner he is and all the while I'm just a blob trying to get by.

Ugh, the nerve on that man!

"No, just wear something nice, okay?" he shakes his head. "I'll be outside by the car."

And so I stomp to the room and try to find clothes that make me seem...classy? But not too classy.

I think this requires the eye of a personal stylist, but we haven't got one of those.

What would he consider 'nice'? I mean, I'm already nice. Isn't that enough? Now my clothes have to be nice, too? This is confusing. This is weird. Is he taking me to a 'nice' restaurant? I can't wear jeans, then. What if it's a pub and I have to be nice just because it's a date? Then jeans would be okay.

Ugh.

Definitely no sweatpants. That's clear.

I decide to wear black jeans and a button down. That's nice enough. And if not, he can always send me back upstairs to change.

A quick glance in the mirror and I'm already dissatisfied with my hair. I try to smooth it, but some strands can't help but stick out, crying for attention. Perhaps I should drive with my head out the window, so the wind will smooth those fuckers out. In case of emergency, this sounds like a plan.

Before I leave, I grab my leather jacket and slip it on.

I arrive at the car and Nolan is nodding to himself.

"I like what I'm seeing," he says.

"I sure hope so, otherwise it would be awkward that we're dating, and you don't like me."

He rolls his eyes. "Shut up and get in."

I find myself getting irritated at the smallest things, because this was supposed to be my chance to show him how much I care. And there he goes again playing prince charming. And there I go again slipping into the role of the evil queen.

We both get in the car and he turns on the radio, low enough that we can still speak normally.

"We need to get some stuff from the store, though," he says.

"Is that your way of telling me that I have to pay?" I ask and raise my eyebrow.

He shakes his head. "That's my way of telling you that the first stop isn't a date."

"So, we're not going to be making out between the aisles? That's disappointing."

"I didn't say that. I said it's not a date yet. It's just a stop."

I take his hand and give a sight squeeze. "Thank you for doing this."

He smiles at me, cheeks gaining a rosy tint. "Don't thank me yet."

We get apples, some flour and eggs, and a non-alcoholic sparkling wine and Nolan wants flowers as well.

"Where are we going?" I ask. The anxiety is about to kick in.

"I can't tell you yet," he replies. "Nothing scary, though."

"You promise?"

He nods. "I swear, love." He kisses me on the cheek. "We're just going to explore the world a little more."

I'm nervous in the car again, fiddling with the hem of my shirt, clenching and unclenching my fingers.

Nolan reaches out and grabs my hand. "Stop," he says and plants his lips on the back of my hand. "This isn't a scary story. It's a lovely one."

"I know. I know," I say and look out the window to distract myself. "I trust you."

He turns up the music, knowing my brain will focus on that instead of running circles in my head like a middle-aged man who is suffering a mid-life crisis and trying to become a pro-athlete al of a sudden. It's going to be fine.

I settle down in my seat and try to relax, humming along to the beat of the song.

We reach a small town and I stare at the buildings passing by. I haven't been here before. Maybe in my youth, but I don't remember it.

It seems like a calm neighbourhood but looks can be deceiving.

"I used to go to school there," Nolan says and points.

I tense, eyes locked on the yellow building. "You went to school..." I mumble.

He laughs. "One time we skipped class with darling Eileen, but didn't leave the school grounds. A teacher chased us on the football field and we were laughing like crazy. It seemed the most rebellious thing back then. Of course we ended up in the principal's office. Later, my classmates high-fived me, even though I know some of them hated me with a burning passion. But for a moment I was cool, you know."

"What is this? What–" And then my face falls. "Nolan, be honest. Am I going to meet your mom?"

He is smiling like a lunatic.

"For real? Truthfully?"

He is shaking his head. "I can neither confirm or deny. We'll see what'll happen."

I cover my face with my hands. "Oh no. No, no, no...She's going to hate me. She's going to think I ruined her beautiful son, she's–"

"What?" Nolan is laughing. "Ruined? Boy, which part of me is ruined, huh? You're over-thinking, love. Stop that immediately and just be ready to get flour on your clothes. Cause..." He drums his fingers on the wheel. "We're going to bake some apple pie."

I do like apple pie.