Pete nods. “Sure thing. It was great seeing you, Mr. Fitzpatrick.”
I can’t help but think it’s something a standup guy from a great family would say. Maybe that’s why my dad is smiling so big right now. Or maybe it’s because his loner daughter as of late is actually going out on a Friday night.
“Okay, bye Dad,” I say before he can tell another story. Pete follows me as I scurry out, the door shutting behind us.
“Let me help you down—these stairs are a little icy,” he says before we walk down the steps with my arm looped in his. It feels natural and makes my anxieties disappear.
Maybe going out with a standup guy won’t be a bad thing at all.
* * *
Just when I think a first date couldn’t be any more romantic, it starts to snow as we get to the orchard. Not too heavy that we have to go home or anything. The perfect amount of snow that you can see falling but light enough that you barely feel anything when it touches you. When the first snowflake falls on my cheek, I can’t help but beam. Waiting for snow must be kind of like waiting for love. If it happened all the time, it wouldn’t be as exciting, but when it finally comes, it’s magical.
“What’re you smiling about?” Pete asks, leading me toward the barn. We can hear the music buzzing behind the shut doors.
“It’s snowing!” I say. “I just love when it snows like this.”
“I planned that for you too,” he jokes.
“Perfect snow. Check,” I say, looking at my pretend clipboard. “What’s next on the agenda?”
“Well, after your dad’s story, I know we have to hit up the fried dough station. But let’s save dessert for last. First, we should get hot chocolate and roam the gift vendors. I still have to get something for my mom for Valentine’s Day.”
There’s plenty of sweet things I remember him doing. Volunteering at a youth clinic over the summer for underprivileged kids. Making sure to be a good big brother to his younger sister. But I guess there’s small stuff you can miss even after almost a year of dating.
“Aw. Do you always get your mom a gift for Valentine’s Day?”
“Yeah, usually I buy her flowers, but since we’re here, I figured you can help me. You’re a girl and all—I’m assuming she’ll like something you choose.”
I smile. “That’s so sweet of you. I’d be happy to help.”
But as we walk over to the hot chocolate line, it takes everything in me to keep my cool. If Pete gets his mom a valentine every year, he really might be my mystery admirer after all. I already knew he was thoughtful, but this proves it yet again.
Then there’s another part of me that wants to push this thought out of my head. This is my first real date. I shouldn’t be trying to find out if he’s my paper-hearts admirer now. Why am I even thinking about that? I should be enjoying Pete’s company.
The snow is still falling so gently, like it’s just kissing the ground. It makes me wonder if Pete will try to kiss me when he walks me to my doorstep tonight.
Pete smiles and then grabs my hand again as he leads me inside the barn and then to the hot chocolate line.
We stand in line and I think about telling him about the Hot Chocolate Theory, but then get mad at myself for indirectly thinking about Andy again.
Suddenly, we are first in line. I reach for my wallet, but he pays for two hot chocolates. When he hands me mine, my heart melts like the marshmallows floating on top.
“Thanks,” I say. For the hot chocolate, and the paper hearts, I think.
With his free hand, he grabs mine and we begin walking again.
And I can’t help but think that maybe we hold hands because it’s the closest thing we can do to hold on to the moment. In a second, all the good memories come back to me like they never left. Dancing at homecoming together and not caring that everyone was watching. Cheering at his basketball games from the bleachers with his number that Carmen painted on my cheek. Finding him waiting by my locker in between classes to surprise me. Walking to the coffee shop during our free period even though he didn’t like coffee—he said he just wanted to be with me. At the time, I just wanted to be with him too. What happened?
“Is everything okay?” he asks, releasing my hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rush you.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not you. I just…I just struggle being with you without thinking about before.” I pause and look him in the eye. “I just wish there was a way to take back the weeks I lost,” I say, directly quoting the first message from my admirer. “You know, to figure out what I was thinking.”
I hope to gauge some sort of reaction from Pete, but all he does is blink and he does it so fast, I don’t know if it’s because of what I said. I sigh.
“Look, El. I know that feeling. I mean, do you believe I don’t think about us every time I see you at school? I tried to get over you, but when you reached out and said you wanted to talk…I just felt like maybe after everything, I could give us a second chance like you wanted after the accident,” he reminds me.
I feel myself blush at the memory. I remember asking for him back, like it would be simple. But it wasn’t simple then and it isn’t now either. His eyes are different this time, though—they look hopeful.
My eyes widen.
“Shoot. I’ve already said too much,” he says quickly. “What I’m trying to say is that we had great memories but I want to make new ones. So let’s not think about the past or anything tonight. Let’s stay in the moment and have a great real date like we always talked about.”
He smiles at me now. I don’t know what to say, so I take his hand back and his smile becomes even bigger.
Pete leads me to an open bench by the live band playing old 90s country music. There’s a crowd forming around them but we stay off to the side, not really paying attention to the music. I think Pete may be nervous about having a great real date as much as I am because he starts rambling off stories—stories, I realize by the third one, that I’m not a part of because I’ve been MIA this year, missing every single senior prank and skip day. But Pete’s a great storyteller. He waves his arms in excitement and sets the scene so you feel like you’re there. I sip my hot chocolate, listening to him.
Carmen has been telling me I’ve been missing everything for months now, but for the first time, it really hits. I didn’t just lose those eleven weeks. I’ve lost more. I’ve lost my senior year from recovering and feeling sorry for myself because for the first time, my life wasn’t perfect. But maybe the fact that I even felt that way is the saddest part of all.