*Night of the dinner: Hunter's POV*
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"It's almost funny it's so ironic."
"How is it funny?"
"Because it's so movie-like you'd think it was fake."
I rolled my eyes. "How do you think it's fake?"
"I didn't say I did! I just think it seems like it."
Sam continued to pressure me into admitting that I liked Christy. It was a little... out of the ordinary, I suppose. We hadn't exactly met the way most couples do.
People. Not couples. People. We weren't a couple.
"Yet." Oops. That was out loud.
"What?" Sam raised his eyebrows at me.
"Nothing."
"No. You said 'yet'. What hasn't happened 'yet'?" he said, making quotations with his fingers.
"Nothing hasn't happened 'yet'," I returned the gesture.
"Mhmm. I think you need time to think this over, H. Not that I'm saying it's wrong to like her. It's just... It may be a little soon, I think. And it's not really the most natural way to go about meeting someone who you end up falling for."
"Who said it had to be natural?"
"Nobody said it had to be natural. But you'd better think about this some more before going through with another dinner, which is effectively a date and everyone knows that."
"It's not a date..."
"Then what is it?"
"Dinner."
"Right. Dinner. With a girl. Who you are kind of stalking. And flirted with."
"She doesn't think it's a date."
"Are you sure about that?"
"No."
"Exactly."
"Is there something wrong with that?" I said, somewhat indignantly.
"Don't be surprised if she doesn't like you back, H."
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*That night-Christy's POV*
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"What to wear, what to wear..." I wondered aloud, wandering aimlessly through my room that was now covered in clothes that I'd thrown about for a half hour. I didn't need to leave for an hour but that didn't calm my nerves. At all.
"It's not a date, Christy," I told myself over and over. "Think of it as a professional dinner. With friends. Or a friend. Who happens to be a guy. And really attractive."
And I facepalmed at that comment, even though it was to nobody in particular and there was nobody in my apartment with me.
But what if it was a date?
I kept telling myself over and over that it wasn't, that I shouldn't worry, let alone even think about it like that. Hunter was just some guy, some acquaintance who I'd happened to come across.
"But if it isn't a date, why did he act like it?"
I groaned pretty loudly, then yelled to my barren apartment something along the lines of "I hate boys!" a few seconds before I heard a knock at the door followed by the voice of my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Eleanor Rhodes.
