“Yeah,” I say. “Let’s give it a shot.”
For the next thirty minutes, conversation flows easily as we drive on country roads. Other than holding hands, it’s like usual and doesn’t even seem like we just agreed to be more than friends. I guess that’s the best type of relationship, though—one that so effortlessly morphs from friends to more you don’t even notice it happening.
Finally, we catch a small glimpse of life again. She merges onto the highway, and we continue driving for miles. After twenty minutes, I ask, “Are you kidnapping me?”
Smiling, she replies, “No. We’re going to Roanoke. It’s the closest big city to school. We’re almost there, only another ten minutes or so.”
It’s already 3:30 and dinner is at 5:00, which means we’ll only have, at most, thirty minutes there. Hardly seems worth it.
“What are we doing for half an hour in Roanoke?”
She looks confused. “What do you mean half an hour?”
“We’ve got to get back by five. For dinner with your dad, right?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I asked him to come tomorrow instead. We’ve got until eight, when all cadets must report back on campus.”
Well, that certainly changes things. An entire three hours in a normal city with normal things to do. I might have died and gone to Heaven.
She’s quiet for a moment as she exits the highway and stops at a light. After a couple more turns, she pulls into a parking lot for a mall. By conventional standards, it’s not a huge mall, but compared to where I’m living now, this entire town looks like we’re in New York City. The bright lights. The people. The traffic.
It’s freaking awesome.
“Want to hang out at the mall before dinner?” she asks. “That’s a normal thing to do, right?”
I grin and squeeze her hand. “Totally normal. And exactly what I need.”
We exit the car and walk through the entrance hand in hand with throngs of other teenagers and some families. “You looking for anything in particular?” I ask.
“Not really. You?”
“I could use some new reading material.” We find the map and then search for a bookstore. It’s at the opposite end, so we start that way.
“When’s the last time you were in a mall?” I ask her.
“Um … three summers ago, I think. It was the one week I didn’t have a camp to attend, so I decided to hang out with some girls I used to be friends with in middle school. Turns out we didn’t have much in common anymore.”
“Not a good time?”
“It was fine. I just felt older than them after a year at Wallingford. Their conversations seemed juvenile. Maybe I was being a snob,” she says with a shrug. “Regardless, I made sure to have camps scheduled for the entire summer after that. It was too weird going home.”
“You don’t talk to them anymore?”
“No. My friends are at Wallingford. I don’t know … There’s something about Wallingford that makes friendships seem more … profound. Living with someone and going through what we go through makes you know someone much better than seeing them for a few hours at school every day. We see the good, the bad, and the ugly in everyone.”
“That’s true. I never thought I’d have as good of a friend as Gordy, but Noah’s coming close. Wallingford speeds up the friendship process.”
She nods. “It speeds up lots of things.”
For the next hour, we walk by clothing stores, gadget stores, and smelly soap and lotion stores. I soak in the noise, the chaos, and the freedom to do whatever I want, like slouching as I try out a new video game or kissing Paige’s forehead while waiting in line to pay for my books. Who knows when I’ll be back so this needs to tide me over for a while.
After the mall, we go across the street to a nicer chain Italian restaurant for dinner. It’s delicious but quicker than I thought, and we still have an hour to kill before we have to head back.
“Thanks for dinner. What now?” I ask after she gets her credit card back from the waiter. I tried to pay, but surprise, surprise, she wouldn’t let me.
“I have one more thing planned,” she says, standing, as we both put on our jackets. “I think you’ll like it.” There’s a twinkle in her eye, which piques my interest.
“Can I get a hint?”
“Hmm…” She tilts her head and purses her lips as if thinking. “Just one.” She steps closer to me and barely brushes her lips against mine. It’s very fast but effective in morphing my interest into anticipation.
“What are we waiting for?” I ask, placing my hand on her lower back and ushering her forward.
This awesome date is about to get a million times better.
CHAPTER 22
LOGAN
We get back in the car, drive through the small downtown into a residential neighborhood and then up a twisting road that ends at the very top of a large hill or maybe a small mountain. There are signs directing us toward a zoo, but Paige turns the other way, taking us to a park with a gigantic neon star lit up like the sun and a sweet view of the city below. She finds a remote area, backs up her car to a fence, then cuts the engine.
“Uh, Paige, you’re facing the wrong way,” I point out, craning my neck to see the lights of the city.
“C’mon, this will be better. After exiting, she walks around to the back where she lifts the tailgate and lowers the back seat to make a flat cargo area. She climbs inside and looks at me still in the front. “You coming?”
I don’t know exactly what she has in mind, but the bed-like nature of the back gets my feet moving. I spring out of my seat, climb over the console, and settle in next to her, eyeing the blanket she’s holding in her hand.
This definitely has the potential to be a very good end to a very good first date.
She hands me the blanket, then scoots to the edge and dangles her feet over the back bumper. I join her and spread the blanket on our legs.
It’s cool outside but not as cold as it is back in Wallingford, probably because we’re not on nearly as tall of a mountain here. Still, the blanket was a good thought. I tuck it under my leg to prevent it from falling.
“So how do you like the view?” she asks while staring into the night.
“I love it.”
We’re silent for a few moments before she turns toward me and says, “I had fun with you today.”
“Me too. We should do it again sometime.”
“I’d like that. Although we might need to tell my dad. He’d be upset if we came here regularly and didn’t hang out with him.”
“You’re from Roanoke?”
She nods.
“Your dad lives around here?”
She points to the left. “About four miles that way.”
Huh. Somehow our hundreds of hours of conversation never got around to where she’s from. It would explain how she knew her way around so well.
“Is he in the same house you grew up in?”
“Yeah. And my room hasn’t changed a bit since the day I left for Wallingford. It will give you a good sense of who I was at thirteen if you ever happen to see it.”
“That could be fun.” I wonder if she was a mini version of current-day Paige or a more typical girl back then. Are there posters of movie stars on the walls or guns? She did have a mom at some point, so it’s not like she never had any girly influence. Granted, she might have died early on. “Did your mom die before or after you came to Wallingford?” I ask.