Watch Me Disappear

less cynical. Maybe if I were Missy.
    There is no sense in pining for Paul. I’m glad we’re going out tomorrow, just the two of us, and probably Tuesday after school he will come over to study again. That is already more than I ever imagined. If he wants to think of me as the sister he never had, at least he wants to think of me.
     
     

Chapter 13
     
     
    The next night Paul is right on time, as usual, and just like homecoming, he arrives with a bouquet.
    “We’re not even going to the dance,” I say, when he hands it to me.
    “You’re still my date for the evening,” he says.
    His date. “I don’t have a boutonnière for you,” I say. “And you’d look so cute with a flower pinned to your sweater.”
    “A thank you will do,” he says.
    I feel my face color. It is rude to respond to a gift with sarcasm. What sort of person am I? “Thanks,” I say.
    The movie is sometimes funny but mostly stupid. Afterwards we have some time to kill before the party. We stop at Mel’s and share dessert, and then we drive around, looking at the Christmas lights people put up over the weekend. We don’t talk much and it’s nice. We are comfortable enough around one another to sit in silence without having it be awkward.
    “Missy and Wes seemed pretty cozy last night,” Paul says after a while.
    “I don’t know,” I say. “I thought they were acting kind of weird.”
    “Maybe a little.”
    “Like they were putting on some act, trying to be like some mature adult couple,” I say.
     Paul considers this. “Yeah, I guess. They were all smiles, but it did seem a little forced.”
    “Definitely.”
    “So what are you saying, I still have a chance?” he asks in this cheesy movie voice he likes to do.
    “Not in this life, pal,” I say.
    “Shoot. Well, what about you? Got your eye on anyone?”
    “You know me, Luscious Lizzie, man killer.”
    “I’m serious. I know you’re over Hunter, but who is the object of your affection these days?”
    “No one, really.” What am I supposed to say? You?
    “So you haven’t warmed up to John at all, huh? He still thinks you’re a hot ticket.”
    “Then why didn’t he ask me to the semi?”
    “Fear of rejection. But if you’re interested, I could let him know.”
    “No, thanks.”
    “That’s too bad,” he says. “You should be more open-minded.”
    You should see what’s right in front of you, I think.
    “You’ve never had a boyfriend, have you?” Paul asks.
    This is new territory. We never talk about my romantic history or lack thereof. “So?” I say.
    “You don’t give yourself enough credit sometimes, Lizzie. There are probably loads of guys who have had crushes on you, but you were too busy being defensive to notice.”
    He sounds like my brother. I shake my head.
    “I’m serious. You’re smart and cute. Sometimes you’re even fun to be around.”
    “Gee, thanks,” I say.
    “You deserve to be happy and to be treated nice,” he says, looking away from the road to look at me.
    “I don’t need a boyfriend to be happy,” I say.
    “Don’t you want to know what it feels like to be kissed?”
    That hurts a little. “How do you know I’ve never been kissed?”
    “Have you?” he asks.
    We both know the answer, though.
    We are driving along edge of the park. Paul pulls to the side of the road and turns to look at me. My heart is pounding so fast I think I might explode. I close my eyes as he leans toward me and I feel his lips gently brush against mine. That’s all. It isn’t a long, sloppy, impassioned kiss. Just his lips softly sweeping along mine. He pulls away but I keep my eyes closed for a minute. I can feel tears welling up behind my eyelids and I am afraid to open them.
    Paul pulls the car back onto the road and turns around to head toward Jessica’s house. I face the window and open my eyes, brushing back the tears that had leaked out and trying to keep my breathing steady. I don’t understand what it means. One minute he’s asking me about his chances with Missy and then the next he’s kissing me. Is it just pity? He feels bad because I am seventeen and have never been kissed? I can’t believe that he likes me, as much as I want to think he does.
    “Here we are,” he says, pulling up in front of a split-level house at the end of a dead-end street. There are already a lot of other cars there. Amazingly my parents gave me permission to stay over at Jessica’s. Apparently in the past few months, I have proven myself