I rub my sweaty palms against the fabric of my faded denim jeans, tuck a loose strand of my hair behind my ear and look out the big glass window against my table, overlooking the street. I arrived a couple minutes ago. I'm early, too early, perhaps. Maybe I was a little too anxious –so much for being fashionably late like we were to that 'open rehearsal.' I look at the menu in front of me but I'm unable to actually read anything. I take a deep breath to try and ease my nerves, and I stare at a clock behind the counter. Thirteen minutes until four. It still isn't time.

Stoney Gossard called me yesterday to set up our first date, which would take place today, Sunday afternoon. Past the initial shock and nerves (and while holding Giada's hand), I asked him not to pick me up from home. I didn't want my host family to start asking questions just yet, so he suggested we met at the place he'd take me first, a coffee house downtown called the 'Raison d'Étre.' It's not actually French, he explained, just the name is and it reminded him of me.

Raison d'étre. Reason for being.

The place is literally like any other coffee house in Seattle, however, this one looks a little more modern, young, funky, judging by the decoration and overall feel of the place and what the waiters are wearing –not a uniform, just cool, edgy clothes. Rock music is overheard in the PA system. Not too loud, just right.

If the name reminds him of me, the place itself and its vibe reminds me of him.

The smell of coffee is pungent, the sounds of espresso pulling blend in with conversations and the music, and the cakes and pastries look really good. I am not hungry in the least bit, not yet. I'm just sitting at my table and I wait, impatiently. My leg is moving uncontrollably. I am so excited. And, for a minute I wish Giada were here.

My mind is running a million miles an hour, thinking maybe Stoney won't show up, wondering if I look okay, if my styling choices were right since I decided to take care of them on my own and not ask Giada for help. I am actually following her advice of being myself, which is only logical. I don't want Stoney to think he's dating two versions of the same girl.

So, as I mentioned, I'm wearing my faded denim jeans. I choose my black bomber jacket with pink and white stripes down the sleeves and a pink flower patch embroidered on the front lap, a light colored blouse under it and my white Converse shoes. I let my hair down, straight (its natural state) and tied a turquoise colored bandana in the form of a hairband to keep it back. I paired it with small, hot pink plastic earrings. A spritz of my favorite fragrance on my neck right below my ears and on my wrists.

The only tricks and tips I took from Giada – which weren't specific for this occasion but overall, were to use a pastel colored eye shadow and do a discreet wash over my eyelids, and tons of black mascara for contrast. For today I chose lilac eye shadow, the mascara made my eyelashes pop, and finally a bit of blush (I was sure I'd be already blushing the entire date) and... pink lip balm. Nothing too dark. You know. Just in case.

Another tip from Gi was to tie up my blouse to show a little stomach. I had never done it before... but it looked good, so I dared. I just went with what I felt comfortable and pretty in, I did not want to overdo it.

I glance at the door, and then at the clock again. Eight minutes. I take a deep breath again and suddenly a waiter blocks my view. Some guy in quite a flashy outfit: oversized, sleeveless white shirt with 'BLACK FLAG' written on the front in big, chunky letters, countless necklaces and studded leather bracelets, grey tights, beat-up trainers, big hair that honestly looked like a half-done perm, but in contrast to this somewhat intimidating appearance, his face, smile and eyeliner-rimmed eyes looked kind.

"Welcome to the Rason-dét," the guy said in what I believe was his best French attempt, "I'll be your waiter, my name's Jeff."

I just smile in acknowledgment. Waiting for Stoney has me too nervous to utter a word.

"Would you like to order something?" The waiter points at my menu with his pen.

"Um," I manage to say, "I'm actually waiting for my... my... my friend to arrive."

"Okay." The waiter pouts his lips. "First time here?"

I nod.

"I'll be over there," he points at the back of the place, again with his pen, "just wave a hand at me when you're ready."

We smile at each other as he walks away. I notice my shoulders are a little tight so I shake them up, close my eyes and move my neck a little. I definitely need to relax and just make this silly mix of nerves and self-consciousness go away.

My eyes return to the window and the street. I watch people passing by. People on their own. Families. Couples. I'm a daydreamer so I can't help but make up stories for each of them. How they met. How they realized they were in love. For those walking alone, I wondered if they lived alone too, and how they dealt with their loneliness. For the families, I imagined who the naughtiest kid was, who the quiet one was, etcetera.

And then the sound of something placed on my table brings me back to reality. It's that waiter again, Jeff, and a glass of some sort of strawberry milkshake in front of me, carefully placed over a coaster.

"Uh, sorry," I mumble, puzzled, "I—I didn't order this?"

"No, I know." Waiter Jeff reassures me and brings a hand to his chest. "It's on the house. I made it myself. You looked a bit tense, so I thought maybe this would help you."

What? I think to myself. Then I become mortified. Is my nervousness that noticeable? Even for a total stranger?

Damn.

"Thanks." I mutter.

"No prob." The waiter replies, casually. "This is your first time here, and I'm just finishing my first week today, so..." he waves his hand, back and forth, "people helping people."

Unlike Blanche from 'Streetcar Named Desire,' I had never really depended on the kindness of strangers, but I could make an exception today.

"Thanks so much." I say again this time out loud, and try the shake. It's cold enough, sweet enough and not too liquid. Close to perfect. "It's really good."

"Enjoy." Waiter Jeff finally says and turns on his heel. "Good luck."

Just when I'm finishing my second slurp, he walks in. Stoney Gossard in the flesh, again with his big coat and a new addition, Ray Ban Wayfarer sunglasses. My heart skips a beat and luckily I had already swallowed otherwise I would've choked. He glances around for a second until he spots me, and we smile at each other. Suddenly all my nerves and tormenting thoughts fade. That's a good sign. Means this will start in a comfortable note, just like that rehearsal night ended.

Yes, I still think this idea is bonkers, but for now, I'm determined to enjoying my time with him... and hopefully making him enjoy it too.

As he walks towards my table he sets free from his coat, revealing his slim figure. He's wearing a greyish blue shirt with white letters on the front (something about a wine cellar), and his usual jeans and boots ensemble. His hair is not slicked back like in Giada's date, but the same he wears it every day, fluffy and dancing with every step he takes. He sits down in front of me, put his coat down and after fixing his gaze with me for what seems like ages, he removes his sunglasses, unveiling those big hazel green eyes that are the main subject of my dreams every night. And, yes, he is wearing eyeliner too and that and the afternoon sun makes the green in his irises pop more.

What's with guys and makeup in this town? I love it!

"Salut, mademoiselle." He utters gallantly in his boyish voice.

I smile and bite my lip. "Salut."

"You sat right by the window so I wouldn't miss you?" He looks at me with his eyelids lowered, which gives him that bedroom stare I just adore.

"Probably." I play along.

"And I see you ordered already." He motions at the glass in front of me.

"Oh, just..." I fiddle with the straw, "a suggestion from the waiter."

"I see. Strawberry, right?" He raises an eyebrow. "Cute and sweet like you are."

Yes, the nerves have gone away from now, but he still manages to leave me speechless. Luckily, I come up with what I think is the perfect answer.

"Thanks. A little sour, too. Just a bit. For a punch."

"We'll see about that." Stoney looks down at his menu, that smile that is so particular to him still on his face. "How do you like this place?"

"Um, it's nice." I reply timidly. It's more than nice. It's kind of intriguing, just like him. "Good choice."

"I come here all the time, I drink too much coffee." He looks back to catch a waiter's attention. Waiter Jeff sees him and diligently comes our way. "Hey man," Stone says at him, "can you bring me a large cappuccino, please?"

"Sure." Jeff writes it down on his paper and points at me in his now usual manner, with his pen. "You?"

"I'm good, thanks." I smile and sip a bit of my shake again. It's delicious and I want to finish it in one go, but I decide to contain myself in front of Stoney. Waiter Jeff nods and again heads off.

"Do you like coffee?" Stoney inquires. I swallow quickly.

"I—" I grin wide, "I love coffee!"

"Good. I knew a girl as smart as you would." He gestures at me with his sunglasses. "Here in Seattle we're practically raised on coffee."

"Oh, where I come from too." I shrug nonchalantly, to appear as cool. "We drink coffee with milk as kids. Doesn't do any harm."

"Right?" He smiles wide. "Why deprive a poor kid from the benefits of coffee, is what I think at least."

"Clever thought." I nod, and drink a bit more of my shake. I press my lips together and for a minute, my anxiety and second thoughts return. Taking control over me, they make me speak. "Um... Stone, listen... if at any stage you find this weird—"

"Adri—" He cuts me off and chuckles as he says my name. It almost makes me faint.

"'Cause it is!" I laugh nervously, "This is so crazy—"

"It is crazy, Adri, but what fun stuff in life isn't a little crazy?" He tries to make a point. "I mean, I still can't believe a beautiful girl like you is giving me the time of day—"

A girl like me? I can't believe a boy like you is paying attention to me.

"Thanks," I close my eyes, and feel the heat reaching my cheeks. Then I remember our actual situation. "But it's two, Stoney, two girls, actually."

"Right now I'm with you." He leans forward over the table. Somehow, his eyes look greener. They take my breath away. "Just you."

I could just kiss him right now. But Waiter Jeff arrives with Stoney's coffee, and places it in front of him together with a sheet of paper.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," Waiter Jeff says, "you seem like cool people, so I thought I'd give you this flyer for a show me and my band are having, we're called Deranged Diction," he points at where the name of his band is, in a list of four or five other acts, "we're playing this Thursday at the Off Ramp, if you wanna stop by."

The Off Ramp, must be a rad club.

"Cool, man." Stoney looks up at Jeff, interested. "What do you play?"

"Just punk and stuff like that." Jeff elaborates. "I'm on bass."

"Um, we can't go to clubs yet." I dare interrupt. "We're not—"

"Yeah, no, we can." Stoney rushes to explain. He then turns to me and leans closer, "We can go, you, Gia and me."

"But this is on a school night." I whisper.

"We'll sort it out." Stoney winks at me.

Waiter Jeff probably finds all of this amusing and I can tell from his smirk. He finally walks off and leaves Stoney and I to carry on with our date. He asks me how I'm feeling and how I'm finding my time in Seattle. I ask him about his music, which leads to us talking about our favorite bands, artists and songs. I want to impress him but at the same time be honest, which I'm sure he appreciates. Plus, with his wicked yet lovely sense of humor, I sense I have nothing to be ashamed of. Every time he runs his hand through his hair or laughs, I struggle to keep composure.

I sure hope I'm making a good impression.

The conversation turns to books, and how I've heard that northwestern people are traditionally avid readers because they are forced to spend a lot of time indoors. But he confesses that he's not a big reader, that what he likes best are crime stories. I thought I was the only one! Yet another thing in common.

So, Stoney suggests going to a bookstore he likes, not to buy books, just hanging out there and looking at them. I agree, so we make our way there while the sun is setting and washing the streets of Seattle in a beautiful, orange hue. I hold his arm while we walk, just casually, as we talk about everything and nothing.

At the bookstore, he spots a tour guide of the South of France. He asks me if I've ever been to France to which I respond with the truth, no. In a glimpse, he goes to the cashier and buys the guide then gifts it to me, with the promise that one day, he and I will go.

"You and I?" I inquire and smile as we exit the store.

"Of course." Stoney replies, sure of himself. "When I get famous with my music and tour the world. 'Cause you know I will."

"Uh, huh." I love playing this game in which I don't know if he's serious or not. I don't mind.

"You'll come with me." He states, matter-of-factly. "I'll get you backstage passes and plane tickets and all. We will sneak out for a weekend and go to the south of France and stuff our faces with cheese and wine."

"Did you think of that just now?" I ask.

He smirks.

"I think fast, little lady."

I smile and look down at my steps. I decide to risk it.

"Do you trust we'll get that far down the line?"

"Um," he frowns, "What makes you think it'll take that long, though?" He says confidently, or playing, as I said I can't tell. "This is going to happen any minute now. I'm gonna get discovered in no time and leave this lousy town behind."

"Lousy town?" I chortle. "Don't call it lousy. You don't mean it."

"Okay, maybe I don't. But... it would be nice to leave for a little while, someday." So, yes. This is his dream. To make music, and be good at it. To make it into music. Maybe gain a little fame. And see the world. I run my hand down his arm and reach his hand, to hold it for the first time today. I look at him looking at our hands intertwined, and the soft curve of his smile forming.

"What does it feel like, being so far away from home?" He asks, his head still down but glancing at me from the corner of his eye.

"It's rough at times," I sigh, "but for the most part I'm good. I'm coming back there anyway."

"And after that?" He looks up, "Quel est ton rêve ? What's your dream?"

"Actually, I..." Okay, here it goes, my crazy stupid dream, "I want to become a pilot. Fly planes. Travel the world."

"W—Wait a second. A pilot?" He turns to me swiftly and stops walking. "You like planes?"

"Um..." Right, apparently I embarrassed myself. So probably I should just finish the deed. "My dad likes planes but he never flew one. I like them too, when I was little I was a bit obsessed. I know, embarrassing."

"Girl—"

"So, yeah," I giggle nervously, "that's my dream in the back of my mind that I know will never come true."

"No, why didn't you say that before?" Stoney asks, excitedly. "You know the Boeing headquarters are here in Seattle, right?"

"I—" I chuckle, "I am very aware of that fact."

"I know where we're going next, come on."

We go back to his car, which is still parked in front of the coffee house, and we drive for a little bit until we reach a place I had definitely never seen before. Just a few blocks from Boeing. We park and I follow him, holding his hand at all times. We reach a sort of warehouse that opens up into a field. It is full of planes, all models and sizes, mostly old. My eyes go huge like plates, and with a big smile, he explains this is a plane 'boneyard,' where Boeing dumps all the old planes.

"Are you sure we can be here?" I ask in a whisper.

"A friend's dad works here." He elaborates. "We played here as kids on Sundays when no one was here. I know every crook."

"Wow. I can't believe it." I exclaim, breathless. "This is like a museum."

We walk around, staring intently at every plane and wishing I could just hop into each of them. I have always dreamed of seeing a place like this, and now, just as easily, it's coming true.

Several dreams are coming true.

"This is unexpected." Stoney's voice makes me turn around and I see him, leaning against a plane's landing gear, grinning wide and shrugging, "A sweet girl like you wants to become a pilot."

"Why," I cross my arms and walk up to him, "you think girls can't become pilots?"

The sun is almost out and in the field of planes, lighting has become scarce. But in the dark and as I get closer and closer to him, I can still see his eyes, looking dark green at this point.

"I believe everyone can become whatever the hell they wanna be. I just..." he tilts his head to a side, "you know."

"Never judge a book by its cover, Stoney." I say softly, as we are now right in front of each other, only a few inches between us.

"I know now." He stares at me again with his bedroom eyes. "I like what's inside books better, anyway."

And it's in that moment, when he leans closer most likely to kiss me, that a reflex (it's the only way I can find to explain my reaction) makes me jolt back slightly.

"What's wrong?" He frowns.

Yeah. I never once mentioned to him that I have never been kissed on the lips before.

I look down, embarrassed, hoping the dark is hiding the red on my face.

"Can't you read this?" I press my lips together and then let out a nervous giggle.

"Uh, I think I can." With his index finger, he lifts my chin and I am once again staring into his eyes. "Hey, it's okay, we—we don't have to do it now."

But I do want to do it. I do want to do it and I am doing it.

"Read again." I tell him.

***

"And then what happened?!?!?" Giada exclaims anxious, after I pause my recount of events for merely half a second. Neither of us could wait until tomorrow at school, so as soon as I got home I called her and she came over.

"Shhh!" I instruct her to keep it down, as my host family could hear, "I pulled him towards me and planted a big kiss on his lips."

"Oh, my God!!!" Giada covers her mouth with her hand.

"He did not know what hit him!" I giggle.

"Adri!!!"

"Hey, I didn't do much right then," I explain, "I just... kissed him, then we parted, he laughed and then..."

"Then?"

"You're right. His kissing is dreamy. I have never felt anything like this." I sigh, close my eyes and elaborate, as I recount every little detail of my first kiss with a boy, forever engraved in my mind. "He took me by the back of my head, gently, while he stroked my cheek with his thumb and we kissed slowly. I felt I was floating. He led the way the entire time, and that made me feel so much better. I hope he liked it. It looked as though he did, because we stopped to take a breath and then we kissed again... for, like, ever."

"Oh, Adri..." Giada stares at me with a mischievous look in her eyes and a wicked smile, "Did it get steamy?"

"Um..." I squint at her, "Just enough."

It got very steamy, but I'm not going to tell Giada that. I'm not going to tell her that during that third kiss I ran my fingers through his soft hair and how, while he kissed my neck, I let him slid his hand under my jacket and feel my bare stomach peeping over my jeans, how he ventured to go a little up and timidly run his finger ever so slightly under the knot of my blouse, and how it made me shiver, how it made my heart pound inside my chest, how my accelerated breathing mixed with his and how I felt my insides burning.

I'm not going to tell her, because it was probably the same for her during her date, and she kept it to herself... as she should.

As much as I loved it and I want to do it again, and again, and again, I'm now thinking about Stoney in a way I never thought about someone before. For the first time I'm allowing myself to fantasize of going all the way with a real guy –and not someone completely unattainable, like a celebrity crush or something.

He is here, he is real and he wants me.

But he wants Giada too, I'm sure.

And now I'm left wondering how the three of us will deal with this fact.