Page 54 of Blitz

She passes by my desk on her way out. “See you tonight?” she asks, giving me a weak smile.

“Sounds good. Dinner?”

“It’s a date,” she says.

My stomach churns. A date. I should take her out on a date. What do college kids do for dates? Miles and Sam go to a lot of frat parties—she’s in a sorority, so it’s a big part of her life, and he doesn’t mind the parties. Greg, Amir, and Barrett might casually date, but that usually involves hooking up with the same girl for a week or two before they move on. There isn’t a lot of money in the budget for a night out on the town.

I’m not interested in going to a frat party. I don’t drink. I never have; when both of your grandfathers die slowly of alcoholism and your mom is a recovering addict, it doesn’t make you want to take up drinking or recreational drugs. I don’t care if Mason drinks; I just don’t want to do it myself.

An idea strikes me on the walk through campus. I’m going to need some help from the boys to pull this off.

The table is set. The candles are lit. I sit at the same table where we declared our love for one another and wait. And wait. We never set a time. I don’t know when she’ll get here. Maybe she’ll—

Mason walks into the dining hall with her friend Fred and stops short. Her hand goes to her mouth.

I clear my throat and stand as she approaches. “My lady.”

Her eyes are bright. “What is all this?”

“We’re having our second first date,” I tell her. I usher her into her seat.

The table is set with a red checkered cloth. Two tapered candles are lit in the center of the table. Her plate is already made, chicken piccata on a pillow of mashed potatoes and a mixed greens salad with pomegranate seeds. She loves pomegranate.

“You went all out.”

I tug at my tie. I’m wearing my game day suit, all dressed up for the occasion.

“Anything for you, Princess.”

She settles across from me. Her eyes are bright as she takes everything in.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“I’d take you out if I could. You deserve the world.”

“I love this.” She pokes a pomegranate aril out of her salad and sucks on it. “This is perfect.”

“I know it doesn’t come close to our first date, but—”

Our first date together was the Winter Formal, our freshman year of high school. I sweated through my undershirt, shirt, and suit jacket, I was so nervous. It was the first date I’d ever been on, with the only girl I’d ever even thought about dating. We went to the dance with a group of eight or nine other couples. It was like a mini prom. We all gathered at someone’s house for an hour of photos, we took a limo to dinner and then the dance, and we shared our first kiss on the dance floor. Micah got into a fistfight with another guy, and the three of us left the dance early. We ended up going to the diner for milkshakes and French fries in our formal attire, her brother an awkwardly comfortable third wheel.

“It’s perfect,” Mason says firmly.

I clear my throat. “How was your day? You ready for your stats quiz tomorrow?”

She makes a face. “No, not really. I should probably spend a few hours studying.”

“Miles is a stats whiz. He’s great at all math, really. He tutored Sam last semester. Want to see if he has any pointers?”

“I think I’m good. I just need to concentrate on reviewing for a little bit and I should be okay. Thank you, though.”

“How was your abnormal psych class?” We’re in two different sections of the same course, taught by two different professors. I have mine tomorrow.

“It was good. We have a paper due next week. I’m going to work on it while we’re at the away meet this weekend.”

Good. She brought it up naturally.

“Did you want me to go?”