Page 75 of The Disasters of Dating
“You still good with ice cream?” I ask.
“Yep. I’ve been rationing my calories all weekend in anticipation. I’ve actually kept most of my weeknights fairly open.”
I’m not sure why that pleases me so much, but it does. “Cool. Then maybe we play the week by ear?” Is that my wishy-washiness talking? Normally, I like structure and plans. Not this willy-nilly, take things as they come attitude I’m sporting right now. What is wrong with me? Oh, my heck. Is this my frustration over a lack of progress that my horoscope talked about?
He coughs. “Sure…if that’s what you want to do.” His voice doesn’t have his normal carefree tone to it. But maybe that’s because he’s at work.
“Do you have anything in particular that you want to see while you’re here?”
“Non-touristy things,” he grunts.
I laugh. “Okay. Locals only stuff. Got it.” A thought comes to me, and without thinking, I blurt it out. “What about the planetarium?” I slap my hand to my forehead. Is that touristy?
“Oh, that sounds fun.”
“Yeah, in the evening they have laser shows set to great music.” I haven’t been to a laser show in years. Maybe it’s not as bad an idea as I thought.
“Can we do it before we get ice cream? Or maybe after?”
I bob my head back and forth. “The ice cream place may take most of the evening, and it’s not close to the planetarium.”
“So what you’re saying is that you want to spend more time with me?”
I laugh. “Apparently that’s what I’m saying.”
He lets out a slight huff of disappointment. “Apparently? I’d hoped for a little enthusiasm.”
“Yes! I want to spend another evening with you.” I do a little dance around my bedroom, hoping it infuses the right amount of cheer into my response.
“That’s better,” he sounds appeased.
“Okay, so planetarium on Tuesday?”
“Sounds like a solid plan. I can hardly wait.”
I grab my laptop off my desk and set it on my bed as I flop down. “Hold on, though. I want to make sure they have good music that night.” I pull up their website and go to the Dome schedule. Tuesday night is AC/DC night. “Woot woot!” I holler into the phone. “Laser AC/DC. Yes, please.”
There is silence for a minute. “You like AC/DC? That surprises me.”
“What? Who doesn’t like AC/DC?” I pull my phone back and look at it as if Keaton can see me looking at him like he’s a crazy man. “Why are you surprised? What music did you think I’d like?”
“I don’t know. Peter, Paul, and Mary? Maybe Simon and Garfunkel?”
I glare at Keaton’s picture on my phone. “Seriously, when are you going to realize that you can’t assume I’m some vegan flower child who lives in a commune and only listens to sixties music? I don’t do drugs, either. Do I need to get that out there, too?” I know I shouldn’t be annoyed. But I thought he was different. I thought he realized that I wasn’t just some hippie stereotype.
“No, you don’t have to mention that. I know you’re not that kind of person.”
“Do you?” I say it louder than I mean to. “I mean, do you really?”
“Yes, I do. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed anything. So far, you’ve done very few things that I thought you would. I’m surprised by you almost daily.” He releases a big sigh. “I really am sorry, Poppy.”
I release the breath that has been building up in my chest. Rolling my shoulders, I let most of my anger and frustration subside. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad. It’s a natural thing for people to make assumptions based on what they see and their past experiences. So if I should be mad at anyone, it should be at myself for thinking that Keaton was different from everyone else.
“You’re not the only one who needs to apologize. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have freaked out.”
There’s quiet for a minute. “Yes, you should have. I have known you for long enough now that I should know better. You deserve better.” He pauses. “I’m going to try hard not to do that anymore.”
I swallow hard, feeling like a complete jerkwad, as Paisleigh would say.
