The Showmance, Part II

As I led Dewey out to my car wordlessly, my thoughts were racing. I hadn’t dressed for a date, fixed my hair for a date, mentally prepared for a date…you get the picture. As a young, 17-year-old girl with insecurity issues, I would have liked to have known ahead of time so that I could have made myself look fabulous ahead of time. Finally I decided that, rather than obsess over every tiny thing, I had better relax and enjoy myself…or else give myself an ulcer before the end of the evening.

Dewey was a very engaging conversationalist as we drove to the closest Subway restaurant. He told me all about the camp he had just returned from and about how he was so excited about his senior year of high school. I even added my own bits of conversation from time to time, but mainly only when asked direct questions. After all, I had only met him the night before. At this particular time in my life, it took several occasions of “hanging out” in order for me to feel comfortable enough to act like myself around any member of the opposite sex.

I was grateful for the time spent eating dinner, that way I could occupy my mouth with food but still listen and be engaged with my eyes to his conversation. I had never in my life come across a boy my age who was so confident in himself and who kept a conversation flowing so easily. With every bite of my subway sandwich I was becoming more comfortable with this person. A couple of times, I even attempted a funny story or two. My tries were not unnoticed, as I was rewarded with a deep, warm laugh that matched his smiling eyes and huge smile perfectly.

As we approached our next destination of the evening, Blockbuster, the butterflies in my stomach returned. Renting a movie could only mean one thing…watching the movie alone with Dewey in that gorgeous home of his. By this time I was completely hooked, though, and would have rather suffered through the nervous butterflies any day rather than go home and call it an early night. I would just play it by ear…after all, I’d watched tons of movies before, and this couldn’t be much different…could it?

I was hesitant to select any movies of my own, so I just agreed with the two that Dewey picked: The Waterboy with Adam Sandler and 12 Monkeys with Brad Pitt and Bruce Willis.

“Are these okay with you? I haven’t seen The Waterboy, and you will love 12 Monkeys”

Sweet mother of God, we were going to watch both? That would guarantee at least four hours of alone time in a gingerbread-style house with a boy whose smile caused my knees to turn to jelly! I took a silent, deep breath and smiled.

“Yeah these will be great.”

Once again I was rewarded with a smile. The ride home was much more comfortable conversation; I only hoped that he didn’t notice how white my knuckles were on the steering wheel as we approached the inevitable dark living room in which we were to spend the next several hours alone.

He didn’t disappoint. We settled onto a comfortable sofa, popcorn and sodas at hand, and Dewey started the first movie (The Waterboy)…but not until after he had turned out every light in the house.

I thank God to this day that the first movie we watched was a comedy. It was a much-needed ice-breaker for the evening, especially for me. Dewey’s laugh was so wonderful and contagious, and my heart leapt with joy every time my own laugh caused him to laugh even more. A couple of times we even glanced at each other to see if the other was laughing and I hoped to God he couldn’t see the emotions behind my eyes as his flashed with mirth.

Even though it was a mild summer evening, at one point I must have shivered. Dewey immediately looked over at me.

“Are you cold?”
“No…not really. I just got a chill.”
“Here let me get you a blanket.”

With that he paused the movie and got up to get a blanket for me. When he sat back down I couldn’t help but notice he was sitting much closer to me than he had been before getting the blanket. He shook out the blanket so that it covered my legs, which were tucked underneath me on the couch and, as he leaned over to tuck the blanket around my ankles, his arms happened to brush against mine. I still ask myself to this very day how it is that, even in subzero temperatures, men are by nature so much warmer than we women are. The warmth of his skin caused me to shiver again, which caused another smile in him.

“This should help. Better?”

I could only nod, temporarily immobilized by the electric shock running through my blood that his touch had caused. Dewey certainly didn’t do anything to help. Being much closer to me by this point, he tucked the other end of the blanket around his own legs, and the movie resumed. However, I was far from comfortable. When he had settled himself into a comfortable, movie-watching position, he had left his hand mere millimeters from my own. I could feel the warmth emitting from his hand, but I didn’t dare move a muscle for fear that he would move that hand.

I tried like hell to become interested in the movie again, but his hand and the warmth I could feel from his body so close to mine was completely taking over all thought processes. Every so often, when he laughed, I could swear his hand inched even closer to mine. I let out a shaky breath after the third or fourth incident, and he must have felt it.

Suddenly and without warning, his hand was on top of mine, giving it a gentle squeeze as his large hand completely covered my smaller one, his fingers entwined with my own. Every muscle in my abdomen starting flipping, causing even more shaky breathing. I tried desperately to control my breaths, God knows I didn’t want him to interpret them as my being uncomfortable!

Finally the movie ended, and I had no idea what had happened in the plot. As Dewey stopped the movie and began rewinding it with the remote control, he looked over at me. His face was inches from my own and his eyes looked right into mine.

“It’s later than I thought. You should probably get home.”

I was immediately crestfallen. He didn’t want to watch the second movie with me! I must have done something wrong…maybe my hand was too sweaty, maybe I seemed stiff and uncomfortable.

“Let’s save the second one for tomorrow night. Want to?”

Tomorrow night? As in, me coming over again to watch another movie in a dark house with you?

“Yeah, I do. That would be fun.”

He smiled at me again and stood up, offering me a hand. I took his hand once more and he walked me to the front door and out onto the wraparound porch. I remember there being a million stars in the sky and a warm breeze lightly causing the white rocking chairs on the porch to sway. The last thing I wanted to do at that very moment was go home. He must have read my mind.

“Wanna sit out here for a minute? It’s so nice out.”

I could only nod thinking, “I must be dreaming.” Here I was, sitting in a rocking chair on the wraparound porch of the most beautiful house I have ever seen. A boy I just met, one who is one of the best looking guys ever to come into my life, is sitting next to me and holding my hand.

We were quiet for several minutes, just the two of us sitting there in comfortable silence, when, finally Dewey spoke.

“I know we just met. But I like you…and I really want to kiss you. Would…that be okay?”

By this time I knew I must have been dreaming. As I mentioned before, I was very behind in the romance department due to “several factors.” One of these factors was the fear of being hurt…the fear of being “used.” One of my storybook, romantic fantasies had always been for a guy to ask me before he kissed me.

I must have taken too long to answer, his smile seemed to falter just a little bit. He felt he’d gone too far, that was obvious.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” his voice trailed off.
“No, no, it’s okay,” I interrupted him. “It’s just that…well, I’ve…never really…”

Once again, there was that smile. He stood up and took my hand, pulling me up with him. He pulled me close up next to him and I looked up into his eyes. He leaned forward and my breath caught in my chest. Again I prayed that he couldn’t feel my heart pounding. I closed my eyes and waited…but I had no need to fear. His lips touched my forehead and he spoke, his breath warm on my face.

“I don’t want to scare you. I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

Another squeeze of my shoulders coupled with one more kiss on the forehead and he backed away, smiling.

“Drive safely. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

How I made it home that night without crashing, I’ll never know. I don’t remember one second of it. I was numb to everything except the smell of him on my shirt collar and the way I could still feel his lips pressed to my face. And I knew I’d see him again tomorrow…

To be continued….