mention.
“How
many guys have you actually dated?”
My
nerves unclenched, but my eyes still bulged a little. “Didn’t we already have
this conversation?”
“Yeah,
but I know better than Meyer when you’re lying.”
“So,
what are you now, a human lie detector?”
“No,
you just have a terrible poker face,” he replied as I inadvertently ran my
fingers through my hair. “Like that. You play with your hair anytime you’re
nervous.”
I
immediately pinned my arms down to my sides. “I do not.”
“Yeah,
you do. One of your biggest tells though is when you bite the bottom of your
lip, but only on the right side. When you do that, I know you’re lying like a
wool rug.”
“Any
other giveaways I should work on?” I asked, rather crossly.
“Yeah,
but I’m not going to tell you what they are,” he said. “I like knowing more
than what you’re telling me.”
I
directed my interest to the tops of my shoes before I replied, “None.”
“What?”
“That’s
how many guys I’ve dated.”
When
I looked up again, I found myself unable to tell by Ian’s expression if he was
more pleased or baffled by my response.
“What’s
the shame in just admitting that?” he asked.
“Because
you know Gwen. If I told her that, she’d have an online dating profile set up
for me by the end of the school day. And it’s not that I’m anti-dating or
anything. I’ve gone out on dates; I just wasn’t ever impressed enough by any of
those guys to want to keep seeing them.”
“Have
you at least kissed someone?”
I
refocused my attention again to the ground.
“Seriously?”
I
smiled guiltily. “Once, when I was thirteen. Danny Burner. It was during a game
of Spin the Bottle. After I kissed him, I sat back watching everyone else play.
When my turn was about to come up again, I excused myself to go get something
to drink and never came back. I’m not sure if I just had some romantic notion
about how my first kiss was supposed to go, but seeing everyone exchange kisses
with everyone else like it was nothing just made the whole experience...”
“Impersonal.”
“Yeah.
I guess I never really got over that, because anytime I was with a guy that
seemed nice but I still wasn’t over the moon about, I’d think about that game
and I’d immediately recoil at their advances. I guess it’s the tragic romantic
in me.”
“Looking
for a deeper connection isn’t tragic,” affirmed Ian. “Certainly not an easy
thing to come by in this day and age, but not tragic.”
Gate
House Records still had several of those sampler speakers throughout the shop,
ones I hadn’t seen since I was little.
“Don’t
you dare,” said Ian, watching me about to scan a CD.
“What?
This is a fantastic album.”
“You
know your father would be ashamed of you for such an act. Listening to that,
not to mention implementing its sounds on others, is a harmonious offense.”
“What
is your guys’ affliction with Nickelback?” I asked.
“Other
than the fact that their music is massively derivative and their songs are
overplayed to the point of sheer and utter agony? Nothing.”
“I
still love them.”
He
simply chuckled. “I’m pretty sure that’s the first and last time I’ll ever hear
someone admit to that.”
“I
don’t get it. Everyone listens to their music, and their albums sell out in
mass numbers, yet it’s somehow uncool to admit that you like them. Why? If it’s
good, it’s good. If it’s not, it’s not. That’s it. Whether you or Gwen wants to
mock my taste, then by all means, feel free. It’s not going to deter my
likings. I’m not going to shy away from being public about what I love just
because it’s been unfairly deemed as unpopular. And you can play the hack card all you want, but you know in all honesty that whether your opinion of
them is unfavorable or not, their music is still better than 95 percent of the
songs on the Top 40 stations.”
“Don’t
get me wrong. I find your
“How
many guys have you actually dated?”
My
nerves unclenched, but my eyes still bulged a little. “Didn’t we already have
this conversation?”
“Yeah,
but I know better than Meyer when you’re lying.”
“So,
what are you now, a human lie detector?”
“No,
you just have a terrible poker face,” he replied as I inadvertently ran my
fingers through my hair. “Like that. You play with your hair anytime you’re
nervous.”
I
immediately pinned my arms down to my sides. “I do not.”
“Yeah,
you do. One of your biggest tells though is when you bite the bottom of your
lip, but only on the right side. When you do that, I know you’re lying like a
wool rug.”
“Any
other giveaways I should work on?” I asked, rather crossly.
“Yeah,
but I’m not going to tell you what they are,” he said. “I like knowing more
than what you’re telling me.”
I
directed my interest to the tops of my shoes before I replied, “None.”
“What?”
“That’s
how many guys I’ve dated.”
When
I looked up again, I found myself unable to tell by Ian’s expression if he was
more pleased or baffled by my response.
“What’s
the shame in just admitting that?” he asked.
“Because
you know Gwen. If I told her that, she’d have an online dating profile set up
for me by the end of the school day. And it’s not that I’m anti-dating or
anything. I’ve gone out on dates; I just wasn’t ever impressed enough by any of
those guys to want to keep seeing them.”
“Have
you at least kissed someone?”
I
refocused my attention again to the ground.
“Seriously?”
I
smiled guiltily. “Once, when I was thirteen. Danny Burner. It was during a game
of Spin the Bottle. After I kissed him, I sat back watching everyone else play.
When my turn was about to come up again, I excused myself to go get something
to drink and never came back. I’m not sure if I just had some romantic notion
about how my first kiss was supposed to go, but seeing everyone exchange kisses
with everyone else like it was nothing just made the whole experience...”
“Impersonal.”
“Yeah.
I guess I never really got over that, because anytime I was with a guy that
seemed nice but I still wasn’t over the moon about, I’d think about that game
and I’d immediately recoil at their advances. I guess it’s the tragic romantic
in me.”
“Looking
for a deeper connection isn’t tragic,” affirmed Ian. “Certainly not an easy
thing to come by in this day and age, but not tragic.”
Gate
House Records still had several of those sampler speakers throughout the shop,
ones I hadn’t seen since I was little.
“Don’t
you dare,” said Ian, watching me about to scan a CD.
“What?
This is a fantastic album.”
“You
know your father would be ashamed of you for such an act. Listening to that,
not to mention implementing its sounds on others, is a harmonious offense.”
“What
is your guys’ affliction with Nickelback?” I asked.
“Other
than the fact that their music is massively derivative and their songs are
overplayed to the point of sheer and utter agony? Nothing.”
“I
still love them.”
He
simply chuckled. “I’m pretty sure that’s the first and last time I’ll ever hear
someone admit to that.”
“I
don’t get it. Everyone listens to their music, and their albums sell out in
mass numbers, yet it’s somehow uncool to admit that you like them. Why? If it’s
good, it’s good. If it’s not, it’s not. That’s it. Whether you or Gwen wants to
mock my taste, then by all means, feel free. It’s not going to deter my
likings. I’m not going to shy away from being public about what I love just
because it’s been unfairly deemed as unpopular. And you can play the hack card all you want, but you know in all honesty that whether your opinion of
them is unfavorable or not, their music is still better than 95 percent of the
songs on the Top 40 stations.”
“Don’t
get me wrong. I find your
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