Page 60 of Studious
He grasps my wrist. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. Let’s get you home.”
I nod. Before we leave, though, I stand up on my tippy-toes and wrap my arms around his neck, giving him a huge hug.
“What’s this for?” he asks with a chuckle.
“Just, thank you. I feel better. I handled being in a club without passing out. And even though this”—I gesture at my damp crotch—“is awkward, it was fun while it was happening.” I shoot him a grin. Then my face falls. “But, crap, I was supposed to pick someone up. Or you were.”
He studies me. “Would you want to come clubbing again?”
I nod.
“Then that can be next time.”
“Who’d’ve thought that I’d like being in a dance club?” I muse. Now that I’m more comfortable in my own skin, being here is easier than I expected. Like I’m not fading unnoticed into the darkness and shadows because everyone is looking at the bright lights.
I’m starting to have some confidence. I’m starting to feel like, while this isn’t my thing, and it doesn’t have to be my thing, I can make my own place here. Not by turning myself into someone I’m not, but by finding the parts of me that enjoy this experience.
Because I do like music—and more, I like looking at the people dancing. I like observing. I’m not so good at being part of the scene… but maybe I don’t need to be part of it. Maybe I can just be me.
“You never know until you try. But you fit right in.” He gives me one more kiss and then holds my hand as we walk outside to get his car back from the valet.
The whole time, all I can think is that Danny’s acting the way I want a boyfriend to act—sexy, supportive, kind—and I need to stop those thoughts.
We’re quiet on the drive home, but that’s another thing that works with Danny. I don’t feel like I have to chatter with him. He’s… easy to be with. When we get to my house, just like when he took me shopping for clothes, I pause before I get out. “What are we doing next?”
“I have some ideas. I think you should ask a guy on a date. What would you want to do if you went on a date? Go to the movies? Dinner?”
“I’d probably take him to a Dodger game,” I admit.
“You like baseball?”
“Like a fiend.”
“Did you know I used to play? In high school. Pitcher.”
“So you mostly pitch? You don’t catch?”
Danny grins. “Did you just make a dirty joke?”
I shrug and grin back at him. “Maybe. Do you want to go with me? To a Dodger game? I can get tickets.”
“And now you’re asking me on a date?”
I nod, feeling smug. “I guess so.”
“Then let’s do it. Pick a weekend afternoon game, and let’s go.”
* * *
At work the next Friday, I’m taking a break and searching for Dodgers tickets when Shelby walks in. “You’re looking so good these days!” he says.
I touch my curls. “Um, thanks.”
“Any reason, or you just feel like changing things up?”
“Actually,” I say, drawing the word out. “Remember how you said I should ask Danny to teach me?”
Shelby’s mouth drops open, and a lock of platinum hair falls into his face. “No way! Did he deflower you?”
