The next day, Saturday, Aunt Bert and Simon were out, and Jill planned to work on some of her Christmas presents. After breakfast she got out all her craft supplies and sat down at the dining room table. The bodyboard she had bought at the mall was wrapped in a blanket in her cupboard, and whenever she thought about Simon’s face when he saw it on Christmas Day she felt a thrill. Jill had bought some wrapping paper with a design of surfing mice all over it, and a wooden box, and she wanted to decoupage the box for Simon to keep his treasures in. She cut the paper out carefully and secured it with the special glue, and pleased with the result, was just putting it aside to dry when her phone buzzed. A message.
This is Alex
Are you at home?
She stared at her phone. So, Anya had given him her number. Why did Alex want to know if she was at home? Maybe he wanted to hang out with Simon again, but Simon was spending the morning with Joyce, their pastor’s wife. And that’s rather abrupt, she thought.
No hi. No smiley face. Just a blunt question.
I can be blunt too, she thought, as she typed her reply.
Yes.
The reply came immediately.
Can I come over?
Okay, she typed. Why not? But he was hardly likely to be interested in decoupage.
As soon as the blue ticks appeared and she saw her reply had been received, the doorbell rang.
No, really? she thought, and went to answer it. She opened the door and there was Alex on the step, phone in hand.
“Hi,” he said, pocketing his phone. She let him in, looking behind him for Anna, but he was alone.
“That was pretty corny,” she said. He smelled nice. Not just like supermarket deodorant – it was an expensive smell, some kind of designer cologne. She was pretty sure none of the boys she knew wore cologne.
“Just being polite,” he said, and walked in. “Nice dress.”
Jill looked down at her dress. She didn’t usually wear dresses, especially sleeveless ones that ended above her knees, but she had seen this one in the shops at the mall the other day and liked the unusual blue colour. She had put it on that morning just because she hadn’t worn it yet, but she had been intending to keep it for church on Christmas Day. It wasn’t something to wear on the beach in the sea breeze, but it made her feel pretty. She was barefoot, though, and had hardly brushed her hair that morning, just shoved it into one of Aunt Bert’s clips to keep it out of the glue.
“Thanks,” she said, feeling pretty chuffed to get a compliment from him. “It’s a little more respectable than what I was wearing when we first met.”
“Definitely!” laughed Alex. “What are you doing?”
“Making a Christmas present for Simon.”
“Making a present?” he said, surprised. “I thought you got him a board.”
“I’m also making him a box. Over there.”
“Cool,” said Alex, going over to the table to look. “He’ll like those mice.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said. “It’s just drying and then I need to varnish it.”
“Nice,” said Alex. “So, you like crafty stuff.”
“Sure,” said Jill. “I like making things.”
“Like this?” said Alex, picking up a crocheted cushion from the couch and holding it up. It was a particularly bad one; granny squares in shades of mustard and green. But at least today it was clean. And not soaking in the bath.
“Er, no,” said Jill. “Maybe when I’m eighty.”
Alex laughed. He put the cushion down and leant against the back of the couch, arms folded.
“So …” said Jill.
“So …” said Alex.
“So … can I help you with something?”
Alex laughed again. He did seem particularly upbeat this morning. “Can you help me with something?”
“I’m just wondering what you’re doing here,” said Jill. “I can’t imagine that decoupage is your thing. Or maybe you are a secret Pinterest fan?”
“All right, I’ll get to the point,” said Alex. “I came to ask if you wanted to go and get a milkshake with me.”
Jill stared at him. This did not compute. Was he asking her out?
Had Anya been right? Surely not, she thought.
“A milkshake?” she repeated.
“Uh, yes,” he said. “Or … coffee, tea, cream soda float … I intended to emphasise the going with me part, rather than the actual beverage.”
So he was asking her out. This head boy on the first rugby team, with his cologne and his expensive clothes, was standing in her lounge, wanting her to go and have a milkshake with him.
“Why?” she said.
He did a double take. “Why?”
“I want to know why.” Now she folded her arms. This was all so absurd.
“Okay,” he said. “To be honest, I can’t say I have ever had that response.”
“What response do you usually get, then?” asked Jill, mischievously.
“Uh ... something like, ‘Sure Alex, I would love to go out for a milkshake with you.’ How about that?”
“You’re pretty experienced at asking girls out for milkshakes, then.”
“As I said, I don’t usually specify the particular drink.” He was smiling at her, clearly enjoying this truly weird conversation. Jill was enjoying it too, she realised. But one thing she knew: she absolutely did not want to walk off to the Wimpy with Alex Palmer and have a milkshake with him. It would be fun, sure, but people would see them and then oh goodness, the gossip would be unbearable … “You still haven’t answered my question,” said Jill.
“Do I need a reason?” asked Alex. “Other than that I would like to hang out with you, and perhaps enjoy some frozen refreshment while doing so?”
“I guess that’s a good enough reason. I just don’t quite get why you would want to hang out with me in particular.”
“Seeing you have no problem with being direct, I might as well
be too,” he said. “I like you.”
Jill looked at him. Was that a slight blush on his neck? This was getting crazier and crazier. Of all the things she had thought might happen this holiday, being asked out by a boy who looked as if he belonged in Hollywood rather than in her grannified lounge in Marshall Bay was not one of them. And why did he have to go and complicate things? He must be confused, really, he couldn’t genuinely like her like that. It had been so much fun hanging out on the beach with him and her old friends, all together, just friends. Even the run yesterday had been nice, just chilled and friendly. She was looking forward to more of that, and maybe even to sharing church and faith with them. She liked him too, but they had to stay just friends.
“Alex,” she said. “Firstly … thanks, I guess. You’re pretty cool yourself.”
“Is that a yes? Remember – beverage is negotiable.”
“It is not a yes. Second, you need to rethink this. You and me – seriously. Seriously?”
“Why not?”
“Just – you are, like really …” This was hard to explain without sounding stupid. And without making him think she liked him more than she did. “You are like, the smoothest guy on the beach, and I am … I’m the girl in an awful green apron with dust on my face.”
He didn’t answer straight away, just met her gaze. “You don’t have dust on your face now. In fact, you look pretty amazing in that dress, and I am just saying that I like you and I want to hang out with you. Does it have to be such a big deal?”
Man, this guy was unflappable. She must have imagined the blush. She was pretty much turning him down and he had hardly flinched. She hadn’t wanted to bring up the real reason she wasn’t going to be drinking milkshakes with any boy anytime in the near future, but – whatever it took.
“No, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. Because also, I don’t do that kind of thing. You know – go on dates.”
“You don’t what?”
“I … don’t want to go out with guys. Not that there are hordes of them wanting me to, I just think it’s a bad idea.”
“You think dating is a bad idea? You’re planning on being single for the rest of your life?”
“No. I want to get married one day. To the right person,” said Jill. Up until now she had not felt embarrassed at all. But explaining this to him was hard. It was something she had thought and prayed about so much, and she felt it was a precious promise she had made to herself, to protect her heart. She didn’t want to be teased about it. “Maybe I can explain another time. When we know each other a bit better.”
“Okay,” said Alex, holding up his hands. “Now I am really confused. You said I was the smoothest guy on the beach, but I have no idea if that was a compliment or not … and either you don’t believe in dating or you don’t believe in dating me … and marriage came up … seriously confused. All I wanted was a milkshake!” Oh boy, thought Jill. Then she had an idea.
“I have some ice cream and a blender in the kitchen, and frozen bananas – how about we make milkshakes right here? I’m pretty sure we can do better than the Wimpy.”
There was a pause. Alex was thinking, his expression unreadable, his composure hardly shaken. She hoped that what must have seemed to him to be pretty odd behaviour wouldn’t chase him away. It was really fun being around him. He was a little arrogant, a little too sure of himself, but he was smart. And interesting. And kind to Simon. And he must just be confused about this liking her idea. She didn’t want to go out with him any more than she wanted to go out with Josh Kramer, but she wanted him to stick around.
After a second or two Alex shook his head and grinned. “Okay. I am still not sure what just happened, but I think I’d better take what I can get,” he laughed. “And Wimpy milkshakes are pretty gross anyway.”
“Excellent!” said Jill, as they walked into the kitchen. She reached up and took something green off a hook at the back door. “And look
– I even have an apron you can borrow!”