Eight-ish?

by Mask By The Moon
originally published at 07:38PM on Saturday, June 02, 2007

“That’s weird, alright,” I said truthfully. Those words rolled off my tongue the way a jawbreaker might if you had your mouth open. She didn’t seem to notice me. She just kept talking.

“My dream ended when your… oh, I’m gonna regret this…. your lunch box started singing. I know it’s silly. It could never happen, right?”

“Right,” I mumbled, looking away. I was lying through my nervously clenched teeth. I could still feel her gaze on the side of my head, right above my ear. Wait—how did I know that? She kept talking.

“So… you wanna go get pizza Friday?” she asked. I looked at her, and there was a light dancing in her eyes. Wow.

“Uh… sure!” I said it without thinking. I blinked. She spoke.

“Eight-ish okay?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“It’s a date. See you there!”

And with that, the bell rang, we stood up, and went along with our lives, anticipating a date on Friday.

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