Free When You Were Mine by Rebecca Serle Page B

soon as we sit down, it’s like he remembers we’re on a date and immediately freezes up. I take a gulp of water and start coughing. It startles Rob, and he looks at me with this mixture of confusion and surprise. Great. I am so not what he bargained for.I’ll bet he’s not even going to kiss me now. I’m going to graduate from high school with Jason Goddamn Grove still on my lips.
    But then Rob reaches across the table and lays his fingertips right by my plate. He’s looking at me and biting his lower lip, like he’s not sure this was the right move. I sort of edge my fingers onto the table, to encourage him, and then caterpillar them closer. This is weird. This is weird, right? I mean, there are Rob’s hands, right in front of me, and I’m trying to figure out where to put mine, how to hold his, if that’s even what he wants. (Although, if it wasn’t what he wanted, why would he be reaching way the hell over to my plate? Why would he have leaned his knee against mine in assembly this morning? Why would we even be here?) This feels ridiculous, this finger dance. In my fantasies he always just takes my hand firmly. There are no sweaty palms. There’s no awkwardness. No uncertainty.
    Finally he takes my thumb in his hand. Of all the fingers to grab, this would not have been the one I would have picked, but whatever. He sort of just holds it between his own thumb and index finger. Which is, truth be told, not very sexy. We should have gone about this all differently. I want to call a time-out and start over. First dates are important. I want us to get this one right.
    “So, what are you going to order?” I ask. He’s still holding my thumb, and my other hand is just kind of lying there, so I use it to pick up my water glass.
    “Pasta,” he says. He’s studying my thumb now. He’s staring at it. Running his index finger up the side.
    “Cool.”
    “You’re getting the Caprese pizza, right?”
    “Dunno.” My menu is underneath the thumb debacle, and even though I usually get the Caprese pizza, I’d still like to look. Everything else is different about tonight. No reason my order shouldn’t be too.
    He drops my thumb and picks up his water glass. He looks sorta proud of himself, which is disconcerting. Does he think that just went well? I bury myself in my menu and pretend to seriously consider another option besides the Caprese pizza. I find none.
    “Have you two decided?” The waiter winks at me, and for a second I see Rob and me through his eyes: a young couple in love. Maybe a little bit awkward, but definitely not just friends. I’ll take it.
    “What would you like?” Rob asks.
    “The Caprese.”
    Rob laughs and shakes his head. “Thanks for giving me a hard time, Caplet.”
    “He’ll have the pasta Bolognese,” I shoot back.
    Rob opens his mouth to protest, but the bow tie waiter cuts in, “Your date has great taste.”
    Rob smiles and turns his hands up. “I can’t argue with that.”
    When he’s gone, Rob again puts his hands across the table, but this time he takes both of mine in his in one clean, swift movement. It doesn’t feel awkward, just nice. I think maybe we’re getting better at this. The interaction with the waiter seemed to give us some confidence.
    “You still haven’t told me about the summer.” I try to keep my voice steady because it’s distracting, his fingers on mine like this. But distracting in a good way. Like a really great song playing when you’re trying to study for an English exam.
    “It was good.” He shrugs. “You know Kwebec, not much to report. It never changes. Larry is still there, and he’s as crazy as ever.”
    Larry is the camp director. No one knows exactly how old he is. Sometimes he looks eighty, and sometimes he looks forty. It’s the weirdest thing. He isn’t married, so it’s not like you can tell by his wife or anything, and as far as I know he has no children.
    “Cool.”
    “It rained a lot.” Rob pauses, considering it.