When we got back to the table, there was a pile of money in the center. I reached into my bag for

some cash. "Don't worry about it," said Connor, "I've got you." I've got you.

Then he smiled at me, like paying for my dinner was the most natural thing in the world.

"Thanks," I said. But what I meant was, Connor, you have got me.

Connor stood up and so did Dave and Matt. "You ladies can treat us to ice cream," said Matt.

"Ah, hello," said Madison as we followed the guys out of Piazzolla's, "I am so not eating ice cream. Do you know how many grams of fat are in an ice-cream cone?"

We walked down Main Street toward a gelato place, and for the first block or two I felt totally

self-conscious about how silent Connor and I were being. Jessica and Dave were having some

kind of heated conversation (Jessica was waving her arms around and Dave kept nodding), and

Madison and Matt were laughing, but Connor and I were just walking along not talking at all.

Right when I was sure my lack of having anything interesting to say was turning my dream date

into a nightmare, Connor took his hand and put it on the back of my neck.

You might think it's uncomfortable to have someone hold you by the neck, but it isn't. Quite the

opposite, in

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fact. I don't know if it was all that practice with a basketball, but Connor Pearson knew just how

to put his hand on the back of someone's neck--not too gently, not too tightly. By the time we got

to the gelato place, he was using his thumb and forefinger to give me a really light massage, and

I knew it didn't matter that we weren't talking.

We wandered around the village eating our ice cream for a while until the guys had to get home

for curfew. Madison waved at me as she and Matt walked over to his car, and Jessica gave me a

hug as passionate as any of the post-math ones she exchanges with Madison.

"I'll see you Monday," she called, finally releasing me and heading off to Dave's car.

"Yeah, see you Monday," I said. Connor and I walked to his car and he held the door open while

I slid onto the cool leather seat.

All night I'd been trying to maintain my air of sophisticated nonchalance, like going out with

cute, popular, older guys was something I'd done fairly regularly at Wellington. Now that

Connor and I were alone together, however, the facade was cracking. Violently. My stomach was

in knots. My mouth was Saharan. I reached into my bag to get out a mint. But as soon as my

fingers made contact with the tin, it occurred to me that perhaps popping a curiously strong

breath mint right as I got in the car would seem slutty, like, Hello, I assume we'll be making out

momentarily, and I'd like to be prepared.

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I zipped my bag shut leaving the Altoids inside.

I'd never been in a car with a guy before. I mean, obviously I'd been in a car with a male member

of the species, but I had never been driven home from a date by a date. Connor hit a button on the radio and Mos Def came on. The volume was a little too loud for us to talk, but Connor didn't

seem to mind, so neither did I. He rested his hand lightly on my knee as he drove.

When we got to my neighborhood, I spoke my first and only words of the entire ride: "Make a

left at the corner," followed by "It's the third one on the right."

"Well, this is it," I said. As Connor pulled up in front of my house and put the car in park, my duplicitous palms started sweating.

"Hey, Red," he said, and he unbuckled his seat belt.

In the dim light from the dashboard, I could just make out his chiseled cheekbones and perfect

profile. And then everything began to get blurry, and I realized he was leaning toward me.

His lips were soft, and he put his hands on either side of my neck and moved his fingers gently

through my hair. Kissing him felt like drinking a glass of cold, clear water when you're parched.

I wanted it to go on forever. When he finally pulled away and I opened my eyes, I couldn't really

focus them.

"I should go," he said softly. "Curfew."

"Oh, right," I said. "Curfew."

"I had a great time tonight," he said.

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I could barely form words; my lips were made of liquid.

"Me, too," I finally managed to say.

"So I'll see you Monday?" he said.

I nodded, reached over to open the door, and started to get out without taking off my seat belt,

which jerked me back. I landed right where I'd started.

"I forgot to take off my seat belt," I said. Even though I hadn't had anything to drink, I felt drunk.

"Yeah," he said, and he leaned in and kissed me again before reaching down to unbuckle my seat

belt for me. "There you go," he said.

"Thanks," I said. I slid out the door and shut it behind me. Now it was as if my entire body had turned to water; it took some focus for me to coordinate stepping away from the car.

I turned and watched as Connor drove off. My cheeks felt hot and my lips swollen, as if I'd been

biting them. Then I floated up to the house, realizing it was possible I had just experienced the

most perfect night of my life.

Apparently being Cinderella isn't so bad after all.

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Chapter Eight

When I woke up in the morning I felt as good as if I'd won the NBA finals. Not only had I had

the most perfect, amazing, incredible (not to mention only) date of my life, I was actually about to spend the day alone with my dad, something that hadn't happened since we'd lived on a

different coast.

"Lucy, you up?" It was my dad yelling down from the kitchen. I looked at the clock--ten-fifteen.

We were supposed to be on our way to the Guggenheim in thirty minutes.

"I'm up!" I yelled, throwing the covers off myself and leaping out of bed. My dad hates waiting for people.

As I rushed to get ready, I kept the movie of kissing Connor running in my mind. I saw him lean

toward me, perfectly backlit by the streetlight. I felt his hand on my waist, his lips brushing up

against my temple.

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Usually my dad starts pacing around the room like a caged animal, checking his watch and

sighing dramatically as ETD approaches. But this morning when I came upstairs, he was calmly

reading the paper in the living room, and I was the one who was antsy to leave. I couldn't wait to

get in the car and start telling him all about my night.

Well, maybe not all about it.

"Chop-chop, Mister," I said, pointing at my wrist where my watch, if I wore one, would have

been. "You think Patton read the Arts and Leisure section on D-Day?"

My dad looked up. "Well, well, well, aren't we timely," he said. "You look practically ready to walk out the door."

"And you can drop the 'practically.' I'm walkin'." I started toward the door.

"I think Mara's running a little late," my dad said. "We're adjusting ETD by half an hour."

"Mara?" I said it like I'd never heard the name before.

"Don't worry, Sergeant, we'll have her up to our punctuality standards soon," said my dad.

I was glad my back was to him so he couldn't see the expression on my face. I tried to make my

voice neutral. "I just didn't... I mean I didn't realize she was coming," I said. Once I'd managed to work my mouth into some semblance of a smile, I turned around.