Page 40 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

“I am.”

“You’re doing a terrible job.”

“I know.”

A frown creases her forehead. “I’m sure you overheard the part where I told Tommy you confuse me.”

“I did.”

“And then, as soon as we’re alone, you start touching me and caressing my neck. You did the same thing last week when you were explaining the levels of crazy to me. I don’t know if you remember that day, but right after, you told me you’re not interested.”

“I’m not.”

“Yet here you are, De Lorenzo. Your actions are a complete contradiction to your words.”

“Yeah, thanks for calling me out on that. Is it a yes or a no?”

She crosses her arms, and my eyes dive straight to her chest. The longer I speak to her, the more I see that this is a train wreck waiting to happen, and instead of slamming brakes, I’m just allowing the disaster to unfold.

She cocks an eyebrow at me. “I don’t have time for indecisive little boys.”

“Well, according to the latest stats, I still have four more pussy-throbs before I have to make a decision, isn’t that right?”

“Hmm...” She taps her finger on her chin as she thinks about it. “Will I be getting any action at the end of this date?”

“It’s not a date...and no.”

Her eyes narrow as she probes further. “Not even a kiss?”

“Nope.”

“So, you just want to...hang out with me?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Most guys only want?”

“I’m not most guys,” I snap. “Now, are you going to keep giving me shit, or give me an answer?”

“My mom probably already left the hospital to pick me up. Give me a second to call her and tell her not to come.” She steps away for a minute or two to make the call. I use the time to text my dad to tell him I’m going to be late. When she returns, she drops her cell phone into her bag, then adjusts the strap on her shoulder. “My mom says you need to have me home by eleven.”

It’s not even six yet. I’ll have her back way before then. “Okay.”

We head into the mall toward the food court, but she makes a detour. “I’m just going to go fix my face.”

I grab her wrist and tug her in the opposite direction. “You don’t need to do that. You’re gorgeous either way. I don’t understand why you’re so weird about that stuff.”

“You are the most difficult person to read. Do you realize you say everything in the same way? The only time you show any expression is when you laugh at my jokes, which is more out of shock, but other than that, there’s nothing to work with. Your compliments, your insults, everything—you say all of them with the same straight face, the same somewhat robotic monotone, so I never know what to make of it.”

With her wrist still in my hand, I spin her around, slip my other arm around her waist, and dip her. The movement is sudden, startling her. She gasps in surprise, clutching onto my upper arm to keep her balance.

“You’re beautiful,” I say. “Is that dramatic enough for you?”

“That’s the same voice and the same face...but with a dip thrown in.”

“Well, I tried.”

I lift her up again, and we carry on walking to the food court. After some deliberation, we settle on a small burger joint and order fries with two chocolate shakes. Because I want to do as much as possible to aid this train derail, I sit down on the chair next to hers instead of the one across from her. We’re sharing the fries, so there’s this constant touching going on.

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