Emonerdysexyness

‘Emonerdysexyness’
By: Ashley Green
Looking back, I really have no idea why I was so nervous that night. It really was no big deal, but still I made it out to be one. Yes me; the one who will roll out of bed to go to school, the one who never cared what she looked like, the one who thought appearance was the last thing someone should be attracted to. I spent two hours getting ready that night. Two hours. What happened to me?
It was a warm September Friday night, the first week of the new school year. For once, I had plans. And even less likely in my often boring life, I was both nervous and excited about those plans. The two hours I had spent ‘prepping’ for the evening seemed like so much less, and, yet, it was still barely enough time. My nails had been painted the day before, a small sign of my desire to look perfect, especially considering how rarely I painted them. And then, to make it even stranger, I was in heels. I mean, I love dressing up, but I NEVER wear heels with blue jeans, let alone out somewhere they were not required. But I knew he was five foot eleven inches, and my measly five foot four inches would not suffice. So my long dark-blue, perfect-fit jeans were complimented by the four inch sandal-heels I had bought for my Tennessee trip the previous summer. I grabbed my favorite black lace tank-top out of my closet and pulled it on as my cell phone beeped at me; a text message from one of my friends who had set this whole event up. “On my way” was all the message said.
“Great…” I mumbled into the empty house. I dropped the phone into my purse with a heavy sigh. That meant I had twenty minutes, at most, to finish getting ready. I grabbed my makeup out of the drawer, laughing slightly at the fact the eyeliner was still in its store wrappings. I had bought it two months earlier ‘just in case.’ Carefully, I began the precise art of makeup application as my flat iron warmed itself. I know my hair is naturally straight; but that single wave in my hair needed to be gone. That, and straightening my hair had a habit of bringing the red dye in my hair to its brightest color. Once the eyeliner and silver-grey eye shadow was perfect, I ran the iron through my hair, slipped the long silver earrings into my first hole, and looked at myself in my mother’s full length mirror. Perfect myspace picture. I giggled to myself as I heard a car horn outside. I ran into my room, as best I could in heels, threw my makeup into my purse (because I knew I would touch it up at least twice) and left.
Once I sat in the blonde’s car, my nerves grew even more. “Can you tell I’m trying?” I asked her, even before hello.
“You look fine,” She replied simply, and pulled out of my driveway.
***
The next two hours became a blur. I know we returned to Michelle, the blonde’s, house. I went on her computer to find a message from him, the third I had ever received, complete with his phone number. Michelle’s friend / date for the night, Justin, showed up; Steph, the other culprit in this set up, and her boyfriend Joe were running a little late, but arrived soon enough, and we left to go see our undecided movie. We were all driven down to Rockaway Theater by the would-be-racecar driver Joe, who came complete with mumblings to other drivers and all.
The loud car ride at 75 mph down Route 15 got my mind off my nerves, until, he called Joe, or maybe Joe called him; but either way, he was definitely on the phone with the madman behind the wheel. My nerves jumped back; here I was, 10 minutes from meeting my blind date. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. It helped just enough to put the nervous, shy part of me aside, and remind me I needed to be myself.
As we pulled into the parking lot, excitement filled me. We left the car and began to walk toward the mass of people at the theater entrance. My eyes scanned the crowd as I looked looking for the long blonde hair and glasses he possessed. I had seen a picture of him, and dubbed him ‘emonerdysexyness’ in conversation with my friends.
Suddenly, with an almost vampire-like speed, he was beside me. “Hey,” he said to the mostly unfamiliar group.
Everyone replied with their hellos and introductions. I waited until last, and waved, slightly awkward. “I’m Ashley.”
He smiled with a similarly anxious look. He quickly scanned my appearance before replying, “I’m Bill.”
I grinned. “I figured,” I responded, causing him to smirk. I vaguely recognized him from somewhere at the start, yet it would be two months before I learned where; he had been the boy, five years earlier, who I had seen and thought was cute at the roller rink. He was also the boy at Hobby Town I found adorable when there with my mother one day. Weird huh?
Once in the theater, the group stopped. “So what are we seeing?” Steph asked us.
We all glanced up at the movie listings. “Halloween?” Joe suggested.
I sighed. I had expected that suggestion from someone. “Sixteen,” I said bluntly, pointing at Justin and then myself. “R means 17, and they ID everyone.”
The argument endured for a few minutes, a jumbled mess in the already loud room, before The Simpsons Movie was decided upon, and we finally got in line. “I’ll get your ticket,” Bill told me as we neared the front of the line.
“Are you sure?” I asked. I have always hated when people do that, well had always hated until just after that night, when I learned it wasn’t worth arguing it anymore.
“Of course,” he replied as we became next in line.
I smiled. For some reason, I didn’t argue as I normally would have.
The tickets were bought, the theater was found, and I sat contently between Bill and Michelle, hoping silently he would put his arm around me, or move to hold my hand. He now says he wanted to, but he never did.
***
After passing in nothing more than a blur, the movie ended near midnight, and we left the theater. Steph turned to me. “Is it okay if Bill takes you home?” She asked.
He looked at me from his place at my side, as though hoping I would say yes.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I replied. Anything not to be in the racecar again. And I was desperate to spend more time with the older blonde.
“I’m parked over here,” he replied, a hint of excitement in his voice as he motioned to a nearby row of cars. We broke off from the group and walked where he led.
I half followed him to the dark colored Honda, and he held the passenger door open for me. This was another thing I would typically argue with, but had no desire to. He was so cute as he did it, and looked so happy about being able to, I didn’t want to shatter that. He rounded the car and took the driver’s seat. “You want ice cream?” He asked as he started the car.
“Actually, yes please,” I replied, suddenly craving the sweet.
“Okay,” he said as he pulled out of the space and headed back toward Route 15. We talked about simple things, like our shared taste in movies and music. He sighed as we approached Jefferson Dairy. “It’s closed,” he said, disappointed.
“That’s okay,” I replied as we continued straight into an area I thought I knew. That thought turned out to be wrong, and made us both lost. We followed the unknown road, not really caring that we didn’t even have the slightest idea where we were. We were having fun just talking. Unfortunately, he took a random turn that brought us back to Route 15 by sheer dumb luck. I directed him back to my house, with a bit of disappointment that the night was coming to a close. I hadn’t had that much fun in years, literally.
“I’ll talk to you in the morning?” I asked, hoping, as we turned into my driveway.
“I hope so,” he replied as he stopped the car.
I smiled, and he did the same. “Good night,” I said, reluctantly opening the car door and stepping out.
“Good night,” he replied, his voice full of warmth.
I smiled again as I let myself into my house. Little did I know at the end of that night, or early that morning (it was 1:30 when I finally got home), I found it impossible to wait to talk to him, even just hours later. I would give into temptation at 9:00 a.m. after two torturous hours of being awake. After that I would spend nearly every day with him at some point or another.
And now, thinking of it, I still haven’t gotten that ice cream…