Super

15 - Gayland's Checking Out My Date

"I know I'm not a grocery item but I can tell when you're checking me out." 

– Anonymous

I was nervous as all hell for my date with Ciaran. 

For one thing, Obsidian Black's words still burned in my mind, permanently imprinted on the inside of my eyelids every time I so much as blinked. I had done what he said and burned the letter, but not before memorising it word for word. 

Secondly, I was nervous simply because this would be my first real date, if it was even that. Sure, I'd had boyfriends before, but the most we had ever done in terms of dates was have a movie night, which really meant pretend to watch a movie while we made out on my couch and leaped to opposite ends of the room every time my mom walked in. Of course she always knew. Moms had a way of knowing.

Now, I stood uncomfortably fiddling with the hem of my skirt as I waited for Ciaran to pick me up. To be honest, I was half expecting the Invisible Hand to show up and stage an intervention or to at least make fun of me for semi-dressing up. However, when a quick glance at the microwave told me it was 7:01 and Ciaran was officially a minute late – something I'd make sure to hold against him – I knew IH wasn't coming.

Less than a minute later, a sharp knock on the door scared the bejeezus out of me and I jumped at least a foot back. Pressing my eye to the peep hole revealed it was, in fact, Ciaran and so I smoothed down my skirt, took a deep breath and opened the door, shooting him my best easy smile.

Ciaran let out a low whistle, eyes perusing my body, as he looked me up and down.

"Wow Annie," he said, clearly impressed, "you clean up nice." 

I didn't hesitate. "You're late," I said, but my words were lost on him. Ciaran was still checking me out. I had gone for the smart-casual look as opposed to semi-formal, choosing a light pink, airy blouse and a black pencil skirt that hugged my curves rather than a dress (it was Ciaran after all; I didn't want to try too hard). For shoes, I stuck to flats, and for hair, I left it in its natural ashy brown, wavy state, going for minimal make up with a smoky eye that would make IH's spandex jealous and some rose-coloured lip-gloss.

"Well anyway, you're not so bad yourself," I chuckled at his blush. Ciaran, like me, was dressed up, but not over the top. He wore dark dress pants and a white button down shirt that hugged his chiselled figure nicely with rolled up shirtsleeves to accentuate his toned, sun-kissed arms and bring out the black of his hair and the blue of his eyes. Ciaran blinked slowly; he had the kind of eyelashes that were every girl's dream and every boy's curse and I didn't know whether to feel jealous or weak at the knees.

"Ready to go?" He held out his arm and I took it hesitantly, nodding as I shut the door behind me. We ran into my mom on the stairway (the elevator was broken) and she cooed, insisted on taking pictures on her new smartphone, before (finally) sending us on our merry way.

"I forgot how much of a handful your mom could be," Ciaran laughed when we finally escaped. Ciaran and I may not have been on the best of terms anymore, but our brothers are old high school friends so he met my mom a few times when we were younger.

"Yeah," I admitted, "but she hasn't embarrassed me in a few months so I think she felt she needed to make up for lost time..." Surprisingly, Ciaran laughed. "You laughed with me and not at me?" I mumbled, raising an eyebrow, which only earned a wink from Ciaran.

"Who said I wasn't laughing at you?"

I only rolled my eyes.

As we stepped out into the chilly night air, I wrapped my cardigan tighter around me and realised that I had made a mistake in choosing smart over casual when it came to my jacket options. You'd think I'd have learned from this morning – hell, Lila even dropped my coat off after school – but nope.