Our date ends up being like any other time we've hung out before, only this time we're both dressed up a little more. Conversation is easy and laughter is abundant, but there are a few subtle differences. For one, Seth won't stop looking at me. Even when I glance down at the menu, I expect he's doing the same thing until I look up and catch his eye. He smiles, dropping his attention to his menu and scratching the back of his neck. His smile remains, even when his eyes flit back up to meet mine before returning to the laminated card in front of him. The sly glances and secretive smiles are stirring heat into my chest and making me jittery. His attention is making me feel beautiful.

It's a strange realization. I've never thought of myself as being unattractive, but since meeting Seth and having to go through so much trouble to snag his attention, I think I've started to doubt that he finds me attractive. Tonight is different. He hasn't tried to hold my hand, there haven't been any more kisses for over a month, and he hasn't mentioned anything about wanting more. And yet, tonight, something feels substantially different.

Maybe he's paying attention to me in a different way. It's like he's finally allowing himself to move in closer. Not physically—since we're sitting on opposite sides of the booth—but emotionally. There's a bubble around us and it's impenetrable. I know this because somehow my almost empty glass of water was suddenly filled and I never even noticed the waitress come by to top it off.

"Can I ask you a question?" I say, pushing my plate away and crossing my arms on the table.

"Sure." Seth leans back in his seat, one arm resting along the back of the booth.

I take a sip of my water and then clear my throat. "Would you," I begin, drawing out the question, "ever consider... going sky-diving with me?"

A soft chuckle leaves his lips and he rubs his jaw, thoughtful. "Um... yes. Definitely yes."

"Really?"

He lifts his brows, lips parting as he smirks at me. "Of course!" He laughs. "I mean, who wouldn't want to watch you flail through the sky? I kind of have this image of what it'd look like and it's fantastic."

"Oh yeah?" I laugh with him. "Please explain."

"Hmmm." He rubs his jaw, thoughtful. "You ever seen a plastic bag getting whipped around on a highway? Or a cat who's been thrown into a puddle? That's kind of how I picture you—legs going wild and your entire body twisting through the air." He smiles at the image in his head. "But, of course, I'd rescue you. And then I'd have a perfect view your face," he gazes at me, eyes trailing over my features, "and it'd resemble a Bloodhound with its head out the window of a car—cheeks ballooned and lips flapping." He nods at his explanation, seeming to approve of his description.

"Sounds stunning," I say, propping my chin on my fist as I gaze at him across the table.

"Could I get the two of you any dessert?" Our waiter asks, gently interrupting our conversation.

I'm shaking my head before he can even offer me a dessert menu. "No, thank you. I'm stuffed." I glance at Seth, silently asking if he'd like anything.

"I'm good. Thanks."

The waiter smiles, gathering up our empty dishes, and then returns a moment later with the bill.

"No rush," he says. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Thanks," Seth responds, sliding his hand out toward the bill.

He's not prepared for my speed as I snatch the bill right out from under his hand. He freezes, fingers still hovering over the table where it once sat. Smiling, I open the receipt holder and scan the numbers. I'm definitely not thrilled by the large sum that I owe, but I smile, hiding my horror.

"What are you doing?" Seth asks, reaching for the bill.

I pull it toward my chest, shielding it with my shoulder as I pull out my debit card. Quickly slipping it into the cardholder, I hand it to the waiter the moment he walks past our table. Then, with a triumphant smile, I lean forward, arms crossed on the table, and stick my tongue out at Seth.

"I asked you on this date," I explain with a simple shrug, "so I'm paying."

His eyes search my face for several seconds and then he nods, slow and thoughtful. "Fine," he finally caves, "but I'm paying for the rest."

"The rest of what?" I question, oblivious to the smirk on his lips as I grab a napkin and wipe a circle of water up off the table. "Did you have something else planned for tonight?"

"No, not really," he admits, a look of panic flitting across his face as if he should have planned better for a full night of adventurous fun. "Did you have something in mind?"

"I kinda just figured we'd go with the flow," I tell him, "but I do have some ideas, I suppose. Like, I've always wanted to try geocaching, or we could build something cool—like a go-kart or a cool chair. We could find an arcade, or throw the world's most epic two-person dance party." I push my hair over to one shoulder. "I've always wanted to go to a store and build a fort in the toy section just to see how long it'd take to get kicked out." I laugh just thinking about it. "We could write a song together, or buy tons of bubbles and get tons of people to blow them with us. Imagine how cool the dorm lobby would look filled with bubbles. Or we could—"

"Actually," he cuts in, "there is something we could do. It's not nearly as creative or exciting as your ideas, but you might have fun. If anything, you'd have a good time just making fun of everyone."

"Oooh." I rub my hands together, my face stretched into a giddy smile. "I love making fun of people! What is it?"

"My friend in theater had to write and direct their own play," he tells me, a modest grin tilting up the corners of his lips. "Their premier is tonight." He looks at me expectantly, the slightest hint of discomfort settling into the greens of his eyes. "Want to join me?"

"Are you asking me on a date, while we're on a date?" I ask, grinning in amusement.

"Not sure if that's a thing," he explains, laughing, "but sure. If that's the only way you'll agree to come with me, then yes, I'm asking you on a second date."

My lips part to let a laugh escape.

"But," he adds before I can respond, "when I'm really asking for a second date, you'll know."

My smile drops, looking for a joke woven into his statement somewhere. There's nothing. His eyes are twinkling in a challenging sort of way, but he's not joking. I watch his jaw flex as I analyze every twitch, blink, and shift of his muscles. For some unknown reason, he looks incredibly uncomfortable under my scrutiny, and I wonder if my lack of response has him worried.

"What?" he deadpans, body stiff as his eyes dance back and forth between mine. "Did I fail at this whole thing?"

"What whole thing?" I question, enjoying his unease. "This date? That I asked you on?"

His response is just an apprehensive lift of his brows.

"Oh jeez," I sigh, rolling my eyes so dramatically that my entire head rolls around on my shoulders. "I guess I've really got to spell this out for you then." Reaching across the table I snag Seth's hands in mine, not even trying to be gentle or romantic about it. "I'm crazy about you, okay? You could have spit in my water, belched on my dinner, farted in your truck on the way over here and I still would have been crazy about you, okay?" I let go of his hands and sit back in my seat, pensive. "I mean, I probably would have questioned my choice in men, but yes, I still would have liked you."

"Really?" he balks, face twisted in disgust. "If you did any of those things, I'd be outta here."

His expression has an ugly snort coming out of my mouth, and I bend over my arms to muffle the sound. When I glance back up at Seth, his chin is perched on his fist, an affectionate grin tugging at his lips.

"Well," I say, slapping my thighs, "I suppose we should end this thing," I motion between us, "before it gets too serious, because I'm a disgusting person."

"Alright," he sighs, "well, it was fun while it lasted."

I smile, twisting my fingers into the sleeve of my sweater as I gaze across the table at him. He looks both casual and formal at the same time. It must be his clean, sharp jawline and the fact that his hair couldn't be more flawlessly disheveled. His jeans aren't skin-tight, but they fit like they were designed just for him, and paired with his sleek black blazer... I don't know. The whole look is doing weird things to me.

When a man dresses to look as though he just threw his outfit together, and then steps into the public like a Wilhelmina Model, I just can't even be pissed about my frumpy appearance. All I can do is admire his. Everything about my surroundings—including myself—just fades into the background. Here we are, sitting quietly in the back of a halfway fancy restaurant, and somehow he's all-consuming. It's almost like magic, the way he manages to suck everything into this vortex. Even my own thoughts seem to vanish, my words disappear. His superpower is to simply sit there, looking beautiful, while he extracts my existence from the room.

I blink myself back into reality, realizing just how inadequate I am next to this man. Not just in appearance. I've never been discouraged by the idea of being with someone a million times more gorgeous than me. The problem is, his heart is way too pure for mine. I'm not always a good person. So often, I choose to be selfish. I had told myself that I'd step away from Seth. That I'd let him live his life and I'd disappear... and now we're on a date. What happened?

What happened is that I'm way too selfish to give up on what I want. I'm a fighter. I don't just give up and walk away from situations. Sometimes that's a good thing, other times it's disastrous. Especially when it requires a little bit of manipulation to achieve my goal. I'm not above manipulating to get what I want and I think Seth realized that a long time ago. I just didn't want to admit that he was right.

So... the big question now is, should this whole thing continue? Am I decent enough to stop pushing my desires on Seth and, instead, let him make the choice for himself? The answer? I don't know. I'm not sure I know how to stop.

"Why did you agree to go on this date with me?" I find myself asking, so disturbed by my thoughts that the question seems to manifest itself without my knowledge.

Seth tilts his head, puzzled by my inquiry.

"For the record," he begins, "I don't find you disgusting."

"Well," I laugh, lifting a shoulder, "I haven't farted yet."

He laughs softly, nodding. "That's true. Do warn me ahead of time when the time comes."

I smile, noticing the amusement slowly fade from his expression. He's watching me, his brows dipping slightly as he considers my question. Then he leans forward, resting his forearms on the table and clasping his hands together as forest eyes analyze me.

"Where's your confidence in yourself?" he asks, his words like ice water down my back even though his tone is like warm chocolate.

"That's not the problem," I tell him, trying to smile around my defensiveness. "I'm plenty confident. It's just that sometimes..." I push my hair off my shoulder, biting my bottom lip. "Sometimes I feel like I'm pushing something on you that you don't really want. And yes, I'll admit, sometimes I feel like you're way out of my league, but I don't think that's a lack of confidence in myself. That's just fact. You literally are out of my league. So I'm—"

"Hold on a second," he says, holding his hands up as if trying to physically stop my words from hitting him. "You think I'm out of your league?" He laughs at the question, lowering his arms to the table and dropping his head.

I just sit, stunned, as I absorb his reaction. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tilts his head back up, eyes meeting mine as he grins.

"You're ridiculous," he says, words swollen with affection. "If you must know—"

"Hey, beautiful people!"

Seth and I are both jolted out of our conversation by the voice that seemed to come out of nowhere. Glancing up, I find Cassandra hovering over our table, a thick, plastic smile stretching across her foundation-plastered face. My stomach clenches in annoyance just at the sight of her.

"Seth, I thought you'd be at the premier by now?" she says, crossing her arms and forcing her boobs to strain against her low-cut shirt. "I was just heading there myself."

"Hi, Cassandra," he greets, pulling out his phone and checking the time. "Shoot, you're right." His eyes flash to mine. "We should get going."

"Perfect," she chimes. "I'll meet you there."

"Sure." His response is distracted as he slips out of the booth and then turns toward me. He lifts his arm and I wonder if he'd planned to offer me his hand to assist me out of the booth, but Cassandra intervenes.

"Mind saving me a seat?" she asks, sliding her hand over his forearm and halting his movement toward me.

"Actually," I cut in, sliding my hand into his even though her fingers are still curled around his arm. "We're on a date."

"Oh!" Her hand goes to her chest. "I'm so sorry." Her words are breathy and high-pitched, making me want to roll my eyes at her. Even a terrible actress, like myself, can tell when a person is faking their surprise. Besides, how stupid of a person would you have to be not to realize this isn't just a friendly dinner?

I don't realize Seth is distracted until I glance his way and find his attention on our entwined fingers. He must feel my eyes on him because he glances up to my face, grinning when our eyes meet. Pulling me closer, he wraps an arm around my back and turns back to Cassandra— who can't seem to take a hint. She's still hovering nearby, smiling like she thinks we just invited her along for the show.

"Maybe we'll see you there," I tell her, already planning on how to avoid her once we arrive.

Unfortunately, the premier is not how I'd imagined. In my head, I'd pictured hundreds of people crammed into the school auditorium, the crackle of popcorn and slurps of carbonated drinks echoing around us. Instead, there are probably only thirty-five people in the room—including the actors—likely friends and family of the show director. So, my plan to find a spot with only space for two people to sit is shattered. To top it off, Cassandra is directly behind us when we walk in.

Now, I've known Cassandra from the start and she never came off as a complete bimbo. In fact, she seemed like a decent person at first. Then the challenges started popping up and the weird threats. Now, she's pretending not to have a clue that Seth might actually be interested in me.

"So," she begins, settling into a seat right beside Seth as we wait for the show to start, "are the two of you here to support your classmate?"

"Sort of," Seth responds, crossing his arms and causing the sleeve of his shirt to stretch tight against his biceps.

He looks so uncomfortable sandwiched between us that's it's almost comical. Just from his posture, I can tell that he's straining to keep his arms from brushing against either one of us.

"We weren't quite ready for our date to end," he continues, "so figured we'd swing by here for a bit."

"Cute," she coos, letting her polished fingers slide down his arm. "So you two are a thing now?"

"No," Seth answers, glancing toward me quickly before settling his attention on the stage ahead.

I wonder if he'd planned to say more, but the lights dim at that moment and the spotlights come to life, spilling across the stage. The show has now begun, leaving me to ponder Seth's quick denial of the two of us being together. I mean, it's true; we're not. But adding something like, 'we're still figuring things out,' or 'not yet,' would have done wonders in getting Cassandra to back off. But instead, she's grinning like she just robbed a bank and got away with it. She thinks he's fair game and I'm baffled as to why he'd allow her to think that. Heck, if I had a creep like Cassandra after me, I'd have lied about a relationship with someone just so I could be left alone. Seth, though, doesn't seem bothered by her interest. In fact, he seems clueless about it.

One scene, in particular, is somewhat funny but the smile vanishes from my face when I see Cassandra turn her face toward Seth, laughing into his shoulder like she's at a comedy show. Her hand circles his bicep as she giggles. It's a ridiculous reaction, considering it wasn't all that funny, but the fact that she doesn't move away from him once she recovers is what has my blood simmering beneath my skin. She remains pressed against him, her head practically laying on his shoulder.

I find myself so worked up over her stupid behavior that something in me shuts down. Typically I'm the type to just keep fighting until I get what I want, but not anymore. Snagging his hand in mine, or mimicking her action and resting my head against him just feels childish. So, instead, I cross my arms and do my best to keep my attention focused ahead.

Cassandra's trying to get under my skin and I'm letting her. But I don't want to let her have any more control over me. And yet, this slimy, bitter sensation keeps wiggling its way into my stomach, secreting poison as it goes. I fear how I'm going to respond if this continues. I have a tendency to speak my mind and since confronting others has never been an issue for me, I know I'm just moments away from causing a scene.

So, rather than make a fool of myself, I squeeze my way out of the aisle with the excuse that I need to use the restroom. It's not a lie. I've needed to pee since Seth agreed to go sky-diving with me back at the restaurant. But escaping this weird tension might be the only way to save myself from exploding.

I sit on the toilet for an extra five minutes, pondering this entire evening. It went from magical to disastrous and I have no clue how to redeem it. Really, I can't. This is up to Seth because I refuse to act like Cassandra. I won't be flirting or touching him just to win him over. Besides, if he feels anything for me, then I shouldn't have to do anything else.

Glancing in the mirror as I wash my hands, I let my eyes drift across my features. I successfully nailed the smoky eye tonight and the curls I ironed into my hair are still intact. If Seth can't see the effort I put into looking good for him, then he's an idiot. I don't think I want to date an idiot.

Smiling at myself, I grab a paper towel, dry my hands and head back to my seat. Determination lifts my spirit, giving me a boost in energy and confidence. This isn't about winning Seth. That's a silly, childish endeavor. No, this is about me being able to be myself. If Seth can't accept that, then we shouldn't be together anyway.

I slip back into the aisle, making sure to bump as many legs and step on as many feet as possible. Though sadly, Seth and Cassandra are the only people in the entire row, so I'm not actually harming any strangers.

"What took so long?" Cassandra asks, a sly grin slithering across her flawless face.

"Oh," I say, stopping directly in front of her, "I was just pooping." Then I continue on my way.

Her smile drops from her face and I watch her glance at Seth to register his response. He's got his elbow on the armrest and his hand covering his smile as he leans his face into his palm. His eyes jump toward me as I settle into my seat beside him and he winks. He glances at Cassandra when she mutters something about how gross I am, and then he reaches over, squeezes my thigh, and then clears his throat before returning his attention to the show.

It feels as though my nerves are sizzling around the contours of where his hand had been just seconds before—like the chalk outline found in a crime scene. That one simple touch feels like a zap of electricity and I haven't the slightest clue how to act normal now. My heart is throbbing, anxiety vibrating the cords and tendons connecting my body, and my brain is completely empty. I'm just staring straight ahead like a dead person.

"What some snacks?" Seth mutters into my ear, and I pull an exaggerated breath into my lungs.

"Huh?"

"It's intermission," he explains, looking at me like I've got a unibrow that just came alive and started winding its way around each eye. "Apparently they've got a few snacks in the back that we can buy."

"Ooo." I rub my hands together. "Like a legit theater. Um, yes. I'd like something—everything. Whatever they've got." I shake my head, using my hands to dismiss my own words as I wave them in front of me. "Actually, just surprise me."

I want to be a child and gloat about the fact that Seth never asked Cassandra what she wanted, but instead, I pull my feet up into my seat and hug my knees to my chest.

"I can see that you two have a really beautiful friendship," Cassandra mutters from two seats away.

I turn my attention toward her, shrugging as I smile. "Yeah. We do."

"That's good." She tilts her head up and down, lips thinning as she smiles at me. "Hopefully it stays that way."

"What's your problem?" I ask, trying my darnedest to remain civil and calm. "Are you still obsessed with him? Can't you tell he's not interested?"

She laughs. It's an ugly laugh. A laugh that must have been bred in the very darkest, ugliest depths of her dead soul. I've read that when a body dies, the bacteria continue to live on for several days, and gases are eliminated from the decay. That laugh was the sound of those gases leaving the vessel of her body—now just a rotted vessel with a make-up-painted exterior. I can practically hear the bubbling, juicy sound in the back of her throat as she cackles beside me.

"You think he's not interested in me?" she asks, brows raised in disbelief. "Then why'd he call me last night needing my company?"

I roll my eyes.

"Pretty sure I've still got proof of his kisses," she purrs, pushing her hair to her opposite shoulder and giving me the perfect view of her neck. A neck peppered with several faint splotches that I'd love to pretend came from heat rash or a bed bug infestation. But, I don't think bugs cause bruising... do they?

"Oh, Cassandra," I yawn, slapping my knees and sitting up straighter in my seat. "When will you give it a rest? I'm not sure who did that to you," I point to the passion-pocks on her neck, "but there's no way that was Seth."

"You just can't admit defeat." Her voice is laced with fake sympathy, lips pouting as she glances pitifully at me.

"On the contrary," I tell her. "I've come to accept whatever happens because Seth and I have a friendship stronger than your lies. This isn't a game anymore, Cassandra. I'm done with all this crap and I'd appreciate if you'd just—"

The ringing that snaps through my skull the moment her jewelry-clad hand slices across my face steals the breath from my lungs. I blink at her, the fire searing its way into my cheek and melding my bones in place. I'm frozen, completely jarred by the impact. It takes several seconds for me to snap out of the shock, but Seth is already shuffling down the aisle toward us.

"You wanna keep telling yourself that Seth cares about you," she hisses, leaning toward me, "that's fine, but I swear you'll die before he ever loves you."

She settles back into her seat, an angelic smile revealing white teeth as she gazes up at Seth. "Oh, thank you," she sings, holding her hands up to take a bag of peanut M&Ms.

He doesn't seem too bothered by her behavior, releasing the sweet treat and sitting down beside me. He nudges my elbow with his, holding a box of popcorn out toward me. I still don't have my speech back, so I wordlessly take a small handful and turn my attention to the stage. Seth's watching me, clearly concerned about my lack of spunk, but I'm far too consumed by my own thoughts to even offer a smile, let alone an explanation. Instead, I've got Cassandra's words rolling around in my brain...

You'll die before he ever loves you.

... before he ever loves you.

You'll die...

And I can't help but wonder if she meant for that to sound like a threat.

---

Raise your hand if you can't stand Cassandra? 

Anyone annoyed by Seth's lack of awareness? Wake up!!! Lol