Page 31 of The Perfect Game

“He goes to therapy on Monday nights.” I rubbed my hands on my shorts, trying to make the sweating stop. The throb in my finger had started to ebb thanks to some ibuprofen. I didn’t want to look at her because I knew I’d find disappointment there. What a waste of a date. “I should probably get you home.”

“Yeah, we can hang out another day when you haven’t hooked yourself,” she said, chuckling.

I tried to smile, but all of the mistakes I’d made that evening fought for my attention, and I knew dwelling on them now would only make things worse.

The drive over to her house was quiet, and Serena asked several questions, but I wasn’t in the mood to chat. I just needed the night to be over so I could slowly work my way through the humiliation of what had happened on the date. At least I wouldn’t have to see her again until school started. Maybe by then, I wouldn’t feel like such a dork.

Eighteen

Serena

I kept trying to get Ben to talk on the drive to my house. The poor guy looked like he’d screwed up Christmas or something.

Once we pulled into the driveway, I smiled at him. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Yeah, for the whole dorky idea. Maybe we should have just gone on Nate’s boat like the guys suggested.” His lips pinched together, and red splotches appeared on his neck and cheeks. He avoided looking at me, and I wished there was a way to get through to him that this had actually been a fun night. Probably the best date I’d ever had, even with all the drama added in.

I’d never seen him so defeated, and without thinking, I reached over and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a few seconds.

I leaned back, tipping his head up so I could look into his eyes. “Ben, I much preferred the dock to a boat. It was fun and thoughtful. Things happen, and you’ll be fine. Let’s do something this week, maybe one night after I’m done with therapy.”

He nodded and gave me a small smile, but it didn’t reflect on the rest of his face.

I reached over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. I’d never had someone who cared about my happiness enough to worry about whether a date had gone wrong or not.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” he said glumly. He fiddled with the knobs on the radio, and I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to leave or stay.

I rested my head back against the headrest and laughed. When I stopped, I looked over at him. His expression was curious and a little confused, his eyebrows cinched together. “No, really. I’ve never been on an actual planned-out date before. And this one was so much fun, even though you got hurt, which I’m sorry about.”

He leaned his head down to rest on the steering wheel. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted everything to be perfect.”

Irritation seeped into my chest, and I clenched my fists for several seconds, trying to decide what to do.

“Ben. Ben?” I said, waiting for him to look at me. When he did, I leaned forward, pressing my lips quickly to his. That same spark I felt when holding his hand tingled through my lips. He’d frozen like a statue at first, but then he relaxed, his hand moving to cup my cheek. A sound came from his phone, and I pulled back, feeling the heat rising at being so forward.

I’d kissed a few guys over the last two years, some of the guys all the girls in school wanted to hang out with, but the simple kiss I shared with Ben was hands above all of them. Maybe even combined.

I glanced at Ben, whose eyes were glassy as a small smile played on his lips. “What was that for?” he asked.

With a shrug, I said, “I just wanted to. Now, will you stop beating yourself up? You’re the first guy to ask me on a real date, and I care that you’re all right. Dates don’t have to be perfect to be fun.”

He finally sat back, chuckling, his shoulders more relaxed. “I’ll try. Thanks, Serena.”

“For what?”

“For being you.”

I paused, surprised at his words. I’d always thought that being me was what pushed people away, except for Penny, Kate, and Brynn of course.

“I’ll text you,” I said, slipping out of the car and waving before I went into the house.

* * *

Once inside the house,I was surprised by the smell of baked goods and garlic, not necessarily together. Walking into the kitchen, I saw our cook, Liza, stirring something in a pot.

“Hey, Liza, what’s going on?” I stared at the counters overflowing with rolls and pastries, cupcakes and cookies. I was the only one who usually ate anything like that, as both my parents were very strict about their diet.

“Ah, Serena, how was your day?” The older woman smiled, her round cheeks rosy from the heat of the stove.

---