I’m inclined to agree, and seeing her like this makes it even more beautiful. I’m not much of a hand-holder, but I wouldn’t let go of her hand right now for anything.
“We should go out more often,” she tells me, leaning into my left side.
“We can go out whenever you like,” I tell her.
“I wasn’t sure. Also I didn’t know how much fun this would be. I went to a show when I was 14, my first one. My mom took me and my friend, and it was magical. I loved it. But I’ve never gone with a guy before.” She gives me another mysterious little look. “Actually, this was kind of my first date, I guess.”
“Well, I hope it was a good one,” I say honestly.
“It was a great one,” she tells me. “I always used to…” She trails off, laughing a little. “This is going to sound so boring and lame compared to this, but back when you used to tutor me, I always used to imagine us going out one day—not like this, just, like, to a bookstore, because I knew you loved books. And if we’re being honest here, sometimes I hated the books you picked, but I didn’t want you to think I was stupid, so I tried to like them.”
This surprises a little laugh out of me. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve never thought that.”
“I always had these daydreams that we could go on an outing—like, I’d imagine you suggesting it one day while we were studying, and us grabbing coffee and a pastry, and picking out books. The bookstore first, so we could do the coffee and pastries after and discuss the books we bought, of course.”
“That sounds… perfect.”
She nods vehemently, glancing over at me. “Not that this wasn’t. Because it was. Good job, A plus, gold star. This was awesome. But I think our next date should be my books and coffee date.”
“Our next date, huh?”
She swings my hand, nodding, not looking at me. “Assuming you ever ask me on another one,” she says lightly. “You’re obviously in no rush.”
I don’t know what to say to that. She’s right, I’m not, but she makes it sound like a bad thing. “I didn’t think you’d want me to be,” I finally say.
“Why?” she asks, glancing over at me.
I shrug, brushing my thumb across hers. “You didn’t really get much of a choice in all this. I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”
“You could never make me feel pressured,” she says, like that’s an absurd thing to say. “You’ve waited for me for five years. You waited for me to grow up. How much time do you think I need?”
“But you didn’t even know I was waiting for you all that time. You didn’t know you were going to get passed off to me. You’ve said time and again that you feel like I bought you, and I don’t want that. I don’t want you to feel obligated to me. I don’t want you to feel like I own you.”
“What if I wanna be owned?” she asks lightly, flirtatiously. “Maybe you should try taking what you want and see what happens.”
I smile, shaking my head. “I think I should’ve stopped you after the first two drinks.”
“Yes, because I couldn’t possibly mean that,” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically.
There are a lot of reasons I don’t think she means it, but I start small. “I’m older than you.”
“That’s sexy,” she states.
It’s a little disarming to hear that, but I hold onto my objections like they’re gospel. “And two weeks ago you wanted someone else.”
Her smile drops at that one. “I didn’t want him two weeks ago,” she mutters, watching the sidewalk as we walk. To my immense regret, she also drops my hand. “I didn’t want him after the Mia thing. I told you that. I get that it’s weird that I liked your best friend, but to be fair, you never once indicated any actual interest in me. Never. I waited; I searched for it, and nothing. We spent so much time together for years, and you never once tried to kiss me or touch me or spend time together outside of our studying. And I enjoyed that, obviously, but… it made me think you weren’t interested in pursuing me. I had no idea you were doing all that for me.”
“But when you found out, you said no,” I point out. “When he first told you that you could go with me, that he’d let you leave… you said no.”
“I did,” she acknowledges. “I was a little nervous, and like I said, I wasn’t unhappy working for Mateo. I got lonely sometimes, sure, but I liked living with Cherie and Maria—they’re closer than my mom and I ever were, and they always included me. Maria loves board games, and she’s such a generally grumpy person, but you should see her beat someone at a board game. She’s such a sore winner,” she says, grinning. “She just gloats, and she doesn’t even say anything, but she has this smug little look on her face.”