Page 115 of Jessica Beam is a Hot Mess
Chapter Thirty
Avoid first date awkwardness by embarking on a double date. Not only is it fun to dine out with chums, the conversation is sure to never run dry!
Matilda Beam’s Guide to Love and Romance, 1955
I’m having a freaky dream − about a ghost wearing a corset, having an arranged marriage with Michael Carrington fromGrease 2− when I’m woken by Peach shaking my shoulder. Her big farm-girl hands are much stronger and more aggressive than I think she realizes. I push her off before she dislocates something.
‘Ow! Jeez, Peach,’ I mumble, rubbing my sleep-crusty eyes. ‘This better be an emergency.’
‘Gavin’s here!’ she breathes.
‘Huh? Gavin?’
‘The postman,’ she reminds me, with just a touch of exasperation. ‘He brought a package that needs a signature. I didn’t order anything, and I know Matilda didn’t. Was this your work?’
I grin innocently because itwasme. I knew she’d put it off, so I ordered a little something online that would need signing for.
‘Is it a big package?’ I say drowsily. ‘A big, hard package?’
Peach frowns. ‘Hush. You said you would come and stand by me when I asked him out. For support. Come on!’
I sit up in the bed.’ Er . . . can I at least get dressed?’ I indicate my sleep-hair and old AC/DC tour T-shirt-slash-nightie.
‘No,now, you promised.’ She throws me what I think is her version of a withering glance. It’s a slight, sweet, pursing of the lips. ‘Lady P needs you,’ she says solemnly.
Gad.
I down some water from the glass at the side of the bed, pull on my dressing gown and reluctantly trudge downstairs behind an extremely fidgety Peach.
We get to the front door, and sure enough, there is Gavin the postman in his shorts, holding a small parcel in his hands.
‘He’s got a tiny package,’ I whisper to Peach.
‘Quit it,’ she hisses back, turning to Gavin with an overly bright smile. She looks weird. ‘Hiiiii, Gavin. H-hii.’
‘Um, hi.’ He raises a curious eyebrow at my presence.
‘Yo,’ I wave sleepily. Don’t mind me!’ Taking the small oblong box off him, I sign the little electronic box thingy. We all look silently at each other for a few seconds.
I nudge Peach with my shoulder and give her an encouraging look.
‘Ah . . . yeah, Gavin, I was . . . I was . . .’ she starts, her full cheeks turning a shade of deep ruby red. ‘I . . .’
‘Peach. W-would you . . .’ Gavin begins, trailing off with a look of pure embarrassment. ‘Uh . . .’
Oh no.
We stand there for another thirty seconds while the pair of them make increasingly fumbled attempts to ask each other out.Thisis why alcohol was invented.
Peach turns to me with an embarrassed grimace, her shoulders hunching right back up to her ears.
It’s time to invoke my fourteen-year-old self.
‘Gavin. This is my beautiful friend Peach.’ I indicate Peach. ‘Do you wanna go out with her?’
Gavin laughs nervously and furiously nods his head, his little red baseball cap wobbling a bit.
‘And Peach, do you want to go out with Gavin?’
