(12) My (our) First Date

Jaron wakes up very late, around 1 pm. I feel bad because I know it's my fault for fidgeting too much in bed. He doesn't say anything about that, though. He only leaves after making me promise three times that I am, in fact, coming over to his place the next day.

In the half day that I don't see him, I don't know what to do with myself. He doesn't text me. I definitely don't text him since that would make me look desperate, and I'm not desperate. Nothing I do feels quite engaging enough to get my mind off the fact that we slept in bed together, or that I'm kind of dating a guy now, or that said guy is Jaron.

I am supposed to have a crush on Thyra. But thinking of her doesn't make me nervous anymore, like a switch has flipped in my head. The object of my nervousness is now a cuddly, blonde, jerk who takes up more space in my thoughts than he should.

I can't even work on the painting I'm supposed to do for the church since that obviously reminds me of Jaron too.

I find my dad in the living room. Aunty and my grandparents are there too, but I only address my dad. "I'm going to Jaron's house tomorrow," I say.

They all look up from their teas and coffees and whatever.

Dad smiles. "Finally made a friend? Happy to see it."

I know Dad means well, but that kind of stings. Now that I think about it, Jaron is the first person I've ever brought to my house. Ever. After I aged out of play dates my parents would set up, I was kind of a loner. Or loser. However you want to put it.

I ignore it and add: "I might stay over."

"Don't inconvenience them," Dad says, "Or overstay your welcome."

I know. Why did he have to tell me obvious social etiquette I already know to look out for? Did he think I was going to camp out there for a week? "I'm taking the BMW," I finish. "I can right? Since it's mine now?"

Dad nods.

"Oh, you have your license now, Indra?" my grandmother tries politely.

I walk into the kitchen, where I can't see or hear them, and pour myself the tea Aunty made. She uses ginger and lots of sugar, and it's so good. But she doesn't make it often since the process is irritating, she claims. I've got to savor it when it's there.

I look over the kitchen. It's kind of a mess.

Aunty has got to cook for all of us now.

My dad and I will eat anything, we can make something ourselves, or we can DoorDash if she doesn't cook. But my grandparents are fussy about it. They demand a fresh Indian course for every meal, with curries, chutneys, lentil soup, and more. Aunty is probably tired.

Plus, she makes the tea for them.

I set my mug to the side, start putting the dishes away, and wipe down counters. It's the least I can do for her since I'm pretty much never asked to do chores when I'm here. She even does my laundry though I repeatedly tell her she doesn't need to.

Surprisingly, it takes me much longer than I anticipated, which means I should probably start picking up some slack around here. And back at Mom's place, too. I really am kind of spoiled.

When I'm done, I go back to my room, thinking I'll do my own laundry before Aunty steals it and does it for me.

I see the kurta Jaron wore draped over my chair. I should wash that. Instinctively, I press it to my nose. It smells like him. Like whatever his deodorant is. I decide not to throw it in the wash and feel kind of dumb about it, even though no one will ever know.

Stupid Jaron, creeping into my thoughts when I'm trying not to think about him.

That night, I fold the kurta neatly and put it next to my pillow. I turn away from it. Why is this so embarrassing? I'd keep it a secret so no one would ever know how pathetic I am for sleeping with his clothes next to me. But it's still embarrassing, even if I'm the only witness to my own patheticness.

———

Jaron opens the door with a huge smile before I even knock or text. He must have been watching for me. I don't know if that's cute or pathetic. I decide on pathetic, because I don't want to be the only pathetic one in this...whatever this is.

"Um, hi," I say.

He casts a quick glance inside, then makes a fist into the pocket of my hoodie and pulls me close. He gives me a kiss.

"Aren't your parents going to see?" I murmur.

"They went out." He pulls me inside and closes the door. "So I dressed up for you when I came over. But you're just in a hoodie."

I look down. I touch my hoodie. "Well, it's new-ish." I cover the dried paint mark on my side. It won't go away no matter how many times I wash it. The stubborn thing has basically become part of the fabric at this point.

"Pretty sure you wore this your first day at church. I remember. "

"Oh," I say, "I don't remember." Which is a lie. I remember everything about that day, including how he completely ignored me when I tried to apologize for calling his dad boring.

He shrugs, wraps his arms around my neck, and kisses me until I'm gulping for air. "All we do is kiss," I mutter. Which I'm not against, but I'm fairly certain a relationship should consist of more than kisses.

"I know. I have a date planned. Like, in public."

"Public," I muse, "Haven't been there in a while." And I've never been on a date in my life. This would be my first. I'm going to hold a severe grudge if he manages to ruin one of my most formative memories.

He laughs. "We're going to get to know each other. Like, emotionally, and stuff. Not just making out."

"Very mature," I approve. "But we'll make out after, right?"

"Of course." He takes me to his garage, where he ushers me into his car. "Do you like boba?"

"That's so basic. Can't you think of a more interesting date?" I realize only after I say it, and after he scrunches his nose, that I probably shouldn't have said that. It wasn't very nice. Way to be supportive of your maybe-boyfriend's efforts.

"Do you like boba?" he repeats before I can correct myself.

"Yeah." I'll stick to short answers from now on. Less opportunity to be an ass.

He makes me hold his hand as he turns on the car. "Good."

Jaron drives us to the Crossing. It's an outdoor mall where a bunch of kids hang out. The kind of place that has an AMC, a Sephora, and a Korean corn dog place. And 4 different boba shops. It's the go to place for dates or anything really when you can't decide what else to do. I've only been a few times with my family for the restaurants, but never with friends.

Or with an almost-boyfriend.

I don't tell him that this is generic and boring. At least he came up with the idea to go out on a date. I didn't even think of that, so maybe I should shut up about his choices.

There's a Happy Lemon here, so we go to that first. I just get a generic Thai tea because I am usually the type to spend a long time deciding what I want, but I don't want to waste his time.

He hovers over my drink even though he has his own. "Can I try?"

"Is it gay to share straws?" I ask, half-ironically. "I mean I don't mind...but. You know."

He blinks. "We are gay." He deflates a little and sighs. "I dunno. Maybe." He gets what I mean. Neither of us are out, and we definitely don't want anyone we know to see us acting like we're on a date.

"I'm not gay, though," I say. "I'm bi. I'm pretty sure." I think of Thyra. I was definitely attracted to her. Still am. Just...more into this right now, maybe cause it's already happening, whereas nothing happened with her. "Still beta testing it," I add.

He snickers. "Cool." He sips his drink. "Okay but I have more planned." He snatches my sleeve to drag me in a different direction, but then quickly lets go. "This way."

He drags me to the escalator. "You should probably text that girl."

"What girl?"

"The one who tatted her number on your hand," he says. "I've seen her around school. It'll be awkward if you ghost her.

"Oh." He's probably right.

He takes my phone from me and spends a long moment on it. I heard the little bubble sound of someone sending a message.

"Hey!" I snap. "What did you do!?"

"Just sent her a polite text explaining that you're flattered." He grins. "But taken," he adds smugly.

I snatch my phone back from him. "I'm not taken."

"Uh huh." He holds onto my sleeve, smiling up at me. I smack his hand away.

On the second floor, there's an escape room called Breakout. "I didn't know this was here," I say, looking up at the sign. "Is this our date—I mean, hangout?"

He smiles again with those puppy dog eyes. "Yes."

"Well, I guess this isn't basic," I say reluctantly.

If we weren't in public, I am certain he'd be screeching with joy at my admission. Weirdo. I bite my lip to keep from smiling and follow him inside. He lets me pick between the Pirates Cove room and the Zombie Apocalypse. I choose the zombie one.

The issue arises when we have to pay. He blocks me from even approaching the register. "It's $30," I hiss, "Stop it."

"I asked you here," he argues, "And I planned it."

"We're both dudes," I counter, "So let's not do this nonsense."

He manages to steal both my phone and my wallet from me, and looks very smug while putting his card down. Joke's on him, I'll just Zelle him later and then block him.

The girl at the counter can't be much older than us, and smiles faintly as we finish arguing about this.

I stomp my foot once she's gone and we're inside the themed room. "She definitely suspects. That we're together. Regular dudes don't argue about who's paying." I think. I wouldn't know since I've never been on a date with anyone before, nor out with a friend like this, but it seems obvious.

"Eh. We don't know her."

So I'm right. Regular guys don't fight about who's paying, which means this can't happen again in front of someone, or we'll be clocked. "Hmph."