Down to the wire—two weeks to go until the prom—and I’m still deficient in the date category. Luke and I do that thing in the hall at school, where I’m sort of looking at him, and I think he’s looking at me too, but whenever the other one notices we just glance away and it never really evolves into an actual conversation. So, I’m pretty sure I was right about things being over there, even now that Jeremy and I are done and Nikki’s given me the green light. Ha. Life cracks me up.
Anyway, I was walking to class between first and second periods today, and I felt a presence hovering to my left. I glanced over, and there was Eric Crowther.
“Oh,” he said in that drier-than-dust laconic way of his. “Hey, there.”
“Hi, Eric,” I said.
“Yeah, so I was actually thinking of going to see a Pacers game, but they’re playing like a bunch of wusses . . . And then I thought it might be fun to just sit at home and watch bad TV, just pretend it didn’t exist. But I figured the only way I’d go is if you went with me . . . do you already have a prom date?”
“Do you wanna go to the prom with me?”
It wasn’t exactly the Casanova approach, but then, it was the only approach I’d gotten.
“I’ve got a cool tux,” Eric added. “And my dad’s got a Lincoln Town Car that could almost double as a limo.”
“Sure,” I said.
“What?” Eric looked all discombobulated.
“I said sure. I’d be happy too.”
“Oh. Cool.” His face lit up. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Actually, I don’t know when I’ll pick you up. I don’t even know when the prom starts. I just wanted to say something definitive, you know . . .”
I had never heard Eric this garrulous. It was kind of cute. “Just call me,” I said. “Whenever.”
“Sure. Right.” He looked around suspiciously, as if some nefarious hobgoblin were about to come and snatch this moment away. “I guess I’ll see you then. Bye.” He turned to walk away.
“Hey, Eric,” I said.
“Do you want my number?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I’ll need that.”