rise. And, apparently, reciting feminist facts to myself is my default reaction to feeling nervous. So why do I feel the need to wait for a guy to ask me out, and assume he will pay for everything?
That’s not the real issue, though. The real issue is the fact that even though things are weird between us right now, I can’t stop thinking about Killian. How is it right to ask a guy out when I’m obsessing over someone else? Even if I basically already told that someone else I wasn’t interested.
“I can see your brain working through something,” Mel says, watching me closely. “And I have a feeling I don’t really want to know what it is. But will you do it?”
“Let me think about it.”
Mel sighs.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She tosses her phone aside and flips through a stack of papers, avoiding my eyes.
“Mel, come on. Are you mad?”
She closes her eyes briefly. “I just want you to have fun, Vee. You were with Mark for so long, and now you have this awesome chance to just forget about commitment and relationships and have a summer you’ll never forget.”
I cross my arms and stare out the window. How can I tell her part of the reason I’m hesitating on the kissing challenge is because I might have feelings for Killian, but I’m not even totally sure what’s going on in my own head? “Fine,” I say. “I’ll ask Ian out.” The phone rings again and I pick it up, chirping out the Float & Boat greeting.
Mel claps her hands in delight and pulls out her phone to text me Ian’s number. I turn away from her to write down the next reservation, hoping the cheerleaders won’t come after me when they find out I’m after their number-one favorite basketball player—and I’m not making a huge mistake by not putting a stop to the alphabet challenge right now and just going after Killian instead.
I have Ian’s phone number. I know he doesn’t currently have a girlfriend. And I’m pretty sure he’ll be up for scoring a free meal. There’s only one problem left: I’m not positive Ian Swanson even knows who I am. Luckily, that’s what Facebook is for.
Two hours after I send a friend request, Ian has accepted it and appears to be online. I take a deep breath, open the messenger app, and dive right in.
hey, ian. :)
hey, what’s up?
I pause, my fingers poised over the keyboard. This is going to be so humiliating if he turns me down.
i was just wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime?
It takes him a while to respond, although he doesn’t go offline. I wonder if he’s trying to figure out a way to say no without being a complete asshole about it. Or, an even more humiliating possibility, maybe he’s scanning my pictures to see if I’m cute enough for him to bother going out with.
Finally Ian types back: sure, hit me up.
He gives me his phone number, which of course I already have, and I tell him I’ll text him before signing out of Facebook as quickly as possible, my heart racing. I just asked a guy out! And he didn’t say no.
I grab my phone and send a new text to Mel. okay, he said he’ll go. now, where the hell am i supposed to take ian swanson out on a date?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
If there’s anything I’ve learned from living with the human tornado that calls itself my brother, it’s that guys like to eat. And since Ian is an actual athlete instead of a skinny little skateboarder wannabe like Jeffrey, I can only assume his life revolves almost completely around food. So that’s what this date is going to be: food, a little physical activity to give me a chance to burn off some calories, some more food, and then we’ll round the evening out with a nice big helping of . . . food.
I study myself in the bathroom mirror, trying to gauge how much the burned-out light bulb in the two-bulb fixture above the sink has affected my makeup-applying process. I wonder if Ian will think I’m pretty. I’m no cheerleader, that’s for sure. I don’t smile enough, and the hair around my temples tends to get kind of weird and halfway curly in the humidity, rather than lying long and flat and straight like theirs does. But I’m strong and lean from running, I plucked my eyebrows yesterday, and as long as nothing gets stuck in my