Page 7 of My (Not So) Perfect Plan

“Yeeessss?” Evan drags the word out like he doesn’t already know.

“You know,” I snap at him. “Did you know before you offered to bring me here that this is what they would think?”

Evan laughs a deep belly laugh. “Ah, no. It didn’t occur to me to think about how other people might perceive it. Mainly because I don’t give a darn who I date, when I date, or where I date.”

“This is not a date!” I whisper furiously.

He chuckles. “I think if I pay, it makes it a date.”

I throw up my hands in defeat. Seriously. It’s not even like he’s actually interested in dating me. What the heck?

“We should do this again sometime. It’s been fun” he says, rising to his feet and grabbing his letterman jacket off the seat next to him. He waits for me to stand which I reluctantly do. Can’t he walk ahead of me? Is touching my lower back lightly to escort me out really necessary? Grrr…..

“We are going to have to some issues with you being my tutor if this is how you are going to play it,” I say to him when we are both on my side of his truck again.

“Nothing like a littletensionto make life interesting,” he winks at me. He pulls the door open and offers his hand to help me up again. I don’t want to take it, but considering getting into his truck is like rock climbing and the hand holds are inconveniently placed for me, I take his hand. I love it. I hate it. Or hate that I love it.

That doesn’t stop my heart from going into overtime and my palm to start sweating at the contact. Once I’m in, he releases me and shuts my door.

Never again, I tell myself as he goes around the car and gets in. The truck engine roars to life and 80s music blasts from the speakers. He looks over at me, a huge grin on his face. Never again go out with Evan Carmichael.

TWO

EVAN

I look over at the girl sitting in my truck and then turn down the volume in my car as I pull onto the road. I had no idea hanging out with straitlaced Claire Brown was so much fun. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn’t a practiced tease, or that she didn’t realize how much of her wide-eyed innocence, blushes, and indignant fury were a turn on.

I could get any girl I wanted, if I I wanted to. I’d just never wanted Claire like that. I still don’t know if I do. I know I had fun with her though. You would never have seen Emily or Sharona or one of their girlfriends dancing and singing with abandon in my truck to 80s music of all things. It made me happy to see a smile on Claire’s serious face. Even better knowing that I was the one to put it there.

I think back to all the memories I have of Claire Brown, from second grade on. I don’t remember her smiling much, or at all, come to think of it. Maybe that’s why it made me feel like I was king of the world when I got her to smile – not that I would mention it to her considering she’d be embarrassed by the fact that I don’t ever remember her smiling.

She’s staring out the window, toying with the end of one of her cute double braids.

“You have a job, Claire?” I ask.

She looks over at me, puzzled by my interest. “Yeah. I volunteer at a Physical Therapy clinic.”

“Hands on. I like that,” I wiggle my eyebrows at her. She rolls her eyes and goes back to looking out the window.

“Ugh, boys. Is everything a double entendre with you?”

“If I can help it,” I smirk and then switch topics because I don’t want her thinking that’s all I think about. “Any ideas on scheduling preferences for your tutoring? What days work for you afterschool?”

Her eyes dart over to mine, doubtful and curious.

“What?” I ask.

She sighs. “I’m just wondering why you volunteered to tutor me.”

“Well, technically, I volunteered to tutor anyone because I needed the volunteer hours, but Mr. Henderson asked me to tutor you specifically.”

“Oh.”

Was she disappointed? I totally was going to push that button. “Would it make you feel better if Ihadspecifically requested to tutor you?”

Her head snaps over to me. “What? No!” But her cheeks flooding with color have me wondering otherwise.

“There’s a party after the game. You’re coming right?” I look over at her. It’s weird to have a girl sitting in my truck that isn’t basically trying to climb into my lap. Claire is hugging the door like I’m diseased. Or scared. The idea that she might be scared is disconcerting though, so I discard that one. Not that I’m diseased is much better.

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