When You Were Young

He gives her that lopsided grin of his, the one she fell in love with the first time she saw him two years ago. Back then he didn't know she existed. She was just the tall, shy girl with a curtain of black hair covering her zits skittering along the hallways. Such a handsome boy who stalked the hallways so confidently could never have an interest in her. And yet, here they are. "I'm boring you," she says.

"No you aren't. I'm not much of a dancer either. That why I play baseball: it's all left turns."

She giggles at this. He always knows how to cheer her up. How did I ever get so lucky? she wonders as she has since they started going out.

She remembered hearing that Stacey, his girlfriend, broke up with him over Valentine's Day and staring at the telephone for hours to work up the courage to call him. All weekend she sat by the phone, wanting to dial the number but always unable to go through with it. Then, as if reading her mind, he came up to her locker on Monday. "I left my algebra book at home. Could I borrow yours for third period?" he asked.

"Yes! I mean, sure. It's no problem." She reached into the locker with trembling hands and found the book. Her hands were shaking so badly that she dropped it onto the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry. Let me-"

He stooped down to pick up the book. "Thanks. I'll bring it back later," he said.

"I'll be here," she said. Before fifth period he returned, handing the book to her with a wink. She stood there in shock a moment before she realized he'd left a note in the book. The note said, "Thanks for the book. I'd like to see you again. How about the Blue Hole Café after school?"

He sat alone in a corner booth with a Pepsi and a stack of thick books. Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Nabokov. "That's some pretty heavy reading," she said.

"I don't read them. I just carry them around to help me stay in shape," he said. He flashed that grin of his, this time meant for her and only her.

He's right: they only have one senior prom. She might as well have a good time. A Carpenters tune comes on and she takes his hand. "This sounds more my speed," she says.

He leads her onto the dance floor and soon proves he wasn't kidding about being a poor dancer. They spend half the song stepping on each other's feet until they stop trying to move and just sway together. She clings to his body, closing her eyes to focus only the feel of him against her. Nothing else matters.