Free At First Sight by Catherine Hapka

thinking about that girl, and wondering who she was and why she inspired me so much, and well …” He sighed. “The rest is history, I guess. I never did anything like that before, and I had no idea what would happen, you know? Guess I’m not sure how to handle it.”
    â€œThat’s cool,” I said. “I mean, you know, not cool that they’re stalking you or whatever. I mean, I understand. Not really; it’s not like I’ve ever had guys show up wanting to meet me everywhere I went …” I trailed off, forcing a laugh and feeling like the world’s biggest dork. “I just mean I hear you, I guess.”
    â€œThanks. Anyway, enough about that;I’d rather talk about the Beast,” he said, obviously more than ready for the change of subject. And trust me, the feeling was mutual. “Did you see that crazy dude at the show?” he went on. “You know which one I mean.”
    â€œUh, no.” Great. Only like five minutes in, and I was already getting tangled in my own web of deceit. “Which crazy dude?”
    â€œYou know. Purple spandex? Crazy Mohawk?”
    â€œI guess I didn’t notice him.” I was too distracted to come up with anything more creative. That was because a very interesting—and sort of scary—question had just popped into my head. Was this a
date
?
    It was a totally foreign concept to me, at least firsthand. Oh, sure, Britt went on dates all the time, though she rarely called them that. She’d just say a guy had invited her to hang out, or that she was going to the movies with a dude she’d just met, or that she was going somewhere fun with a new hottie.
    But I didn’t really do anything like that. I’d never even been on a “first date” before—not really. Like I said, all two of my previous boyfriends had started out asfriends. By the time we’d actually started going out together, things were pretty comfortable and casual between us, which made going out seem a lot less … well, datelike. The only other times I’d done anything at all like dating was stuff like school dances, which didn’t really count and was usually more of a group thing anyway.
    A first date. The whole idea seemed kind of weird and old-fashioned to me, like something out of a movie set in the 1950s or something. Or like my parents, who had a “date night” every weekend.
    â€œLauren?”
    I realized I was drifting, not paying attention to what he was saying. “Oh!” I blurted out. “Um, sorry, I was just thinking about something. What did you say?”
    He grinned. “It’s okay. I’m always a little deaf myself after a Beast show. Think they’re the loudest band in America, or what?”
    â€œProbably.” I couldn’t help smiling back. “The first time I saw them live, I went home and started shouting at my parents because my ears were still ringing. They thought I was a total freak.”
    He laughed. “It’s worth it, though, right?”
    â€œTotally! I can’t believe they’re still only a local band. They’re way better than most of the stuff on iTunes.”
    â€œTell me about it. My little sister is always blasting this Top 40 garbage in her room.” He made a gagging face. “And people say the Beast gives them a headache—that bubblegum crap is migraine city!”
    After that, things got a lot better. Relaxed, even. A waitress showed up to take our order, and Riley started teasing me about ordering ginger ice cream. I didn’t mind at all; I teased him right back about his choice to mix hazelnut gelato with mango sorbet.
    Ice cream flavors aside, it turned out we had a lot in common. We spent the next half hour slurping up our sundaes and talking about everything and anything, from music to school to our families. I discovered that he was in a band called the Grovers with some other guys from his school,