This Girl: A Novel

fun.”
    And they’re gone. Just like that.
    Taylor laughs. “Wow. That wasn’t obvious,” she says.
    I turn back to her and she’s grinning, shaking her head. Now it really feels odd sitting in the same side of the booth with her. “Well,” I say. “This is . . .”
    We both say “awkward” at the same time, which causes us to laugh.
    “Do you mind if . . .” I point to the other side of the booth and she shakes her head.
    “No, please. I’ve never been a same-side-of-the-booth girl. It’s weird.”
    “I agree,” I say, scooting into the seat across from her. The waitress brings my drink and takes our order. It gives us about thirty seconds of distraction before she walks away again, leaving us to fend for ourselves.
    Taylor lifts her glass up, motioning to mine. “To awkward first dates,” she says. I pick my glass up and clink it against hers.
    “So, before all that,” she says, waving her hand in the air. “We were talking about how you were graduating a semester early?”
    “Yeah . . .” I pause. I don’t really feel like going into detail about the real reasons I’m graduating early. I lean back in the booth and shrug. “When I want something, I guess I just focus until I get it. Tunnel vision,” I say.
    She nods. “Impressive. I’ve still got a year left, but I’m going into teaching, too. Primary. I like kids.”
    Our conversation begins to flow better. We talk about college for a while, then when the food comes we talk about that. Then when we run out of things to talk about, she brings up her family. I let her talk about them, but I don’t divulge. By the time the bill comes, the conversation is far from awkward. I’ve only thought about Lake ten times. Maybe fifteen.
    Everything seems okay until we’re in the car, backing out of the parking lot. Seeing her sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window; it’s reminiscent of just a few weeks ago when Lake was doing the exact same thing, in this exact same spot. But it doesn’t feel anything like that. That night with Lake I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her while we drove and she slept, her hand still locked with mine. I’m not one to believe that there is only one person right for me in the world. But the tug and pull Lake has on me, even when she isn’t in my presence, it makes it feel like she’s the most right for me. As much as I think Taylor and I would hit it off on a second date, I’m not so sure I’ll ever be able to settle for anything less than what I feel for Lake.
    We make more small talk and she directs me toward her house. When we pull up into the driveway, the awkwardness immediately sets in. I don’t want to lead her on at all, but I also don’t want her to think she did anything wrong to turn me off. She was great. The date was great. It’s just that my date with Lake was so much more, and now I want nothing less.
    I put the car in park and, as awkward as this is going to be, I offer to walk her to her door. When we reach the patio, she turns around and looks up at me with an inviting and welcoming look on her face. This is the point where I need to be honest with her. I don’t want to get her hopes up.
    “Taylor . . .” I say. “I had a really good ti—” Before I can finish my sentence, her lips are meshed with mine. She doesn’t seem like the type to make such bold moves, so the kiss catches me completely off guard. She runs her hands through my hair and I’m suddenly faced with the realization that I don’t know what to do with my own hands. Do I touch her? Do I push her away? To be honest, the kiss isn’t half bad and I catch myself closing my eyes, bringing my hand to her cheek. I know I shouldn’t be making comparisons but I can’t help it. This kiss is reminiscent of kissing Vaughn. It’s not bad . . . pleasant even. But there isn’t any emotion in it. No passion. Nothing like what I felt when I kissed Lake.
    Lake.
    I prepare to pull myself away from her when she finally pulls back herself. I’m relieved I didn’t have to be the one to push her away. She takes a step back and covers her mouth in embarrassment. “Wow,” she says. “I’m so sorry. I’m not usually that forward.”
    I laugh. “It’s fine. Really, Taylor. It was nice.”
    I’m not lying; it was nice.
    “You’re just really . . . I don’t know,” she says, still smiling uncomfortably. “I just wanted to kiss you,” she shrugs.
    I rub the back of my neck and glance at her front door, then