The Oracle of Dating (15 page)

Two days later, Tara called him. The guy said he was on the other line but he’d call her right back. So she gave him her phone number.

He didn’t call back.

The moral of the story is this: There is nothing you can do to avoid the will-he-call-me problem. He will either call or he won’t. If he does, that will give you the answer to the most fundamental question of dating: is he interested in me or not?

Good luck, and God bless,

The Oracle

I post the blog and log on as the Oracle. While I was at work I missed three instant messages. That’s fifteen bucks lost! Hopefully they’ll try again sometime. I really have to quit my job soon. If I’m serious about taking the Oracle to the next level, I need to spend more time in front of the computer.

Bling! Loveless23 has instant-messaged me.

Loveless23: You’re not easy to get in touch with, Oracle.

Oracle: I apologize. I am here for you now, Loveless23. How are you doing with the woman in your office?

Loveless23: You remember that?

Oracle: The Oracle remembers all things.

And keeps detailed notes. Ha-ha.

Loveless23: Well, I finally worked up the courage to ask her out. She said yes. We went out. It was awkward at first but then it went really well.

Oracle: That’s wonderful! Will there be a second date?

Loveless23: I’m not sure. I was hoping she might ask me out next time.

Oracle: How did the last date end? Did you talk about another date?

Loveless23: No. It ended pretty fast. I didn’t even have a chance to kiss her. Well, I could have, but I was hoping she’d make a move. She’s confident. She knows who she is.

She knows who she is? Something about that rings a bell…

Oracle: Did you call her?

Loveless23: I’m not sure if I should. We went out last night. I don’t want her to think I’m crowding her or anything.

Oracle: You have to use your own judgment on that. Did you get the impression that she likes you?

Loveless23: She’s friendly. But she’s nice to everyone. That’s just who she is. I don’t know if she even realizes we went on a date. She might think we went out as friends.

Oracle: Maybe that’s because you didn’t kiss her. If you had, you’d probably have a good sense of whether she liked you or not—depending on whether she kissed you back.

Loveless23: I’m starting to regret that I didn’t. Especially when I read your blog on that, Oracle. But like I
said, I don’t think kissing and calling should only be up to me. This girl’s a feminist, she should know that. Anyway, I thought if you like a girl you’re not supposed to kiss her on the first date.

Oracle: I think that depends on your age group. How old are you?

Loveless23: Seventeen.

Seventeen? I wrote down in my notes that he was twenty-three. Maybe I got confused because of his username.

Oracle: At your age, kissing on the first date is entirely appropriate.

Loveless23: Gotcha. So, Oracle, do you think this girl likes me?

Oracle: That is hard for me to tell. Does she flirt with you?

Loveless23: I’m pretty sure she does. What should I do now? Call her?

Oracle: Yes. The Oracle believes you should call her. She could be hoping for your call right now.

Loveless23: Okay, Oracle. I’ll call her. Thanks for your help. Definitely worth the five bucks.

Oracle: Glad to hear it. Good luck, Loveless23.

The phone rings. I almost jump out of my skin. It’s the home line. “Hello?”

“Glad you’re back in business, Oracle.”

I blink. “Uh, what did you say?”

“Am I speaking to the Oracle of Dating?”

“Um. Uh.”

“Did I shock you by calling your home line?”

My mind is whirling.

“Jared?”

“You sound really surprised, Kayla. But you wanted me to call, didn’t you?”

“Loveless23.”

He’s laughing. “Yeah, that’s me,
Oracle.
”

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t figure it out right away. Getting that card in my locker made me wonder if it was somebody at school, and I’d been talking to you right before that. And when the Oracle went off-line, it looked like you were in a bad spot… I still wasn’t sure. But when I got home from our date—and, yeah, it definitely
was
a date—and I saw your blog on kissing, I knew. I bet you’re blushing right now. I love it when you blush.”

Am I ever! I can’t believe he knows I’m the Oracle. He knows everything I’ve been thinking!

“I’ll promise you one thing, Kayla. I would’ve kissed you if I knew you wanted it. And another thing—I won’t pass up another chance.”

His words take my breath away.

“Are you there?”

“Yeah,” I say weakly. “You threw me off. Nobody knows about the Oracle except my sister, one of her friends and Viv.”

“I figured that. I won’t tell anyone. You can trust me.”

“I know.”

“The Web site is awesome. Did your sister do it for you?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“You said she was a software engineer. Creating a Web site isn’t a big deal for somebody like that. Look, Kayla, I’d really like a second date. And I’m free Saturday night. So if you want to ask me out, feel free.”

I laugh. “Let me get this straight. You’re asking me to ask you out.”

“Right. So will you do it?”

“Okay.” I clear my throat. “Will you go out with me Saturday night?”

“Sure. Thought you’d never ask.”

T
HE NEXT MORNING IN CLASS
our eyes meet. We both smile like we know some secret joke we’re not letting anybody in on.

He leans over and whispers, “Morning, Oracle.”

I giggle, not just because he knows my identity, but because his cologne is flirting with my senses.

He knows I’m reacting to him, because when he sits down, he’s unable to wipe the grin from his mouth.

As the class goes on, I’m thinking of writing a whole new blog on flirting. Flirting without any words at all. With your eyes. With your body. It’s amazing how Jared is driving me crazy without really doing anything. And I have the feeling I’m having the same effect on him.

We leave class together and he walks me to the caf, which is in the opposite direction of his next class. When we’re about to part, he leans into me. I freeze, wonder
ing if he’s coming in for a kiss. But he isn’t, he just stands there motionless, so close I’m getting hot all over.

Sweet Lord, I should definitely write a blog on sexual tension!

At the lunch table, my friends are asking a million questions.
Jared? When? Are you sure?
And I answer:
Yes. Now. Definitely.

A
T
3:27
P.M
. G
ERSTAD IS
long gone, but she’s nice enough to let me stay in the art room as long as I close the door behind me when I leave. She was impressed that I wanted to stay after school on a Friday to finish my project. I didn’t tell her I was only staying late because I didn’t want to waste my own money buying paints to finish it at home.

I’m standing at my desk, mixing dark blue with white, trying to create a pastel blue like in the photo. A noise makes me look up.

Jared is standing in the doorway.

“Hey. Come see how I’m doing.”

He comes up close, peering at the drawing over my shoulder. “Nice job with the background.”

“Is this blue right for her dress?”

“Add a bit of yellow… That’s it.”

“Thanks.” Unsure of what to do, I start painting the dress. He’s watching me, and he’s so close I feel his chest rising and falling an inch from my back. The air around us is charged with electricity.

“I thought you said you had to work,” I say.

“I do, in an hour. I just know I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t take you up on your offer.”

“My offer?” My paintbrush is hovering dangerously close to the paper. Jared takes it out of my hand and puts it down.

He turns me around to face him. Oh my God! He’s going to do it now!

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. My knees start to crumble. I close my eyes, clutch his shoulders. His kiss is open-mouthed and hot. It isn’t shy, it’s electric and demanding. He must have prepped for this—his mouth tastes like peppermint. Oh, God, I hope I don’t taste like the spaghetti and garlic toast I had for lunch!

He lets me go too soon. My arms are still locked around his neck. I need him to keep kissing me senseless.

I hug him, and he hugs me back, and I can feel the hard muscles of his arms squeezing me. It feels wonderful. His face is nuzzling my hair. We stand there for several moments before he finally breaks away.

“I couldn’t wait, Kayla.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“Definitely.”

S
ATURDAY AFTERNOON
, Upper East Side. The hair and nail salons along Second Avenue are full of women getting ready for tonight. I’m meeting Tracey at Darcy’s, a cozy living-room-type coffee place à la Central Perk on
Friends
. And most important, they have the best chai soy lattes in Manhattan.

I know Tracey’s going to freak when she hears about the art-room kiss, AKA the hottest kiss ever! I’m totally pumped to get another one tonight. Or two, or three…

Walking into the café, I head to the spacious room at the back.

I spot Tracey. And she’s not alone.

Scott is with her. Their body language tells me everything I need to know.

They haven’t seen me yet. Can I make a quick break for the door?

Too late. Scott sees me. He waves me over.

I go up to them and plunk myself on the couch beside Tracey.

“Great to see you,” Scott says.

There they are: his ridiculously white teeth. He’s definitely getting them bleached. No one who drinks as much coffee as he does has teeth that white.

“Hi.” I’m not going to say it’s great to see him and I’m sure he knows why. In fact, I’m sure this whole setup is to prove to me that I’m wrong about him (i.e. he really
is
a good guy).

“Let me get you something to drink, Kayla,” he says. “Chai soy latte?”

“Okay. No foam.” I try to give him a five but he doesn’t take it and goes up to the counter.

Tracey turns to me. “I hope you’re not mad. Scott really wanted to hang out with you again. He wants to hear all about the Web site.”

“You told him about it?”

“Why not? He won’t tell anyone that you’re behind it.”

“I don’t like being set up.”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Maybe not. It’s more of an ambush.”

“I need you to support me, Kayla.”

“I support you. I don’t support
you and him.
And if you try to convince me there’s no
you and him,
I won’t believe you.”

She sighs. “I won’t try to convince you. It’s just important to me that you get along with whoever I’m dating.”

“Past behavior is the best indicator of future behavior, Trace. Everybody knows that.”

“You can be very judgmental.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”

Scott is back, putting the drink in front of me. “I’ve seen your Web site. It’s great. How do you know so much about dating? Have you had lots of boyfriends?”

“You don’t need to have had lots of boyfriends to give dating advice. You need to learn from the ones you’ve had.” I give Tracey a pointed look.

“So I guess you get some pretty crazy questions, huh?”

“Sometimes.” I’m not going to facilitate conversation-making with him. I have a split-second fantasy of grabbing the tea light from under a nearby couple’s s’more kit and setting his hair on fire.

Finally Scott gives up, and the conversation moves to work stuff, which is fine with me.

At some point Tracey goes to the bathroom, leaving Scott and me and awkward silence. I decide to lay my cards on the table.

“My sister is a great person.”

“Definitely. She’s wonderful.”

“She deserves someone who’s serious and reliable.”

“Of course she does. I really care about Tracey.”

I look straight into his eyes. “Don’t hurt her again.”

His eyes widen. I can see he’s gotten the message.

It doesn’t take a genius.

T
HAT EVENING
,
ON THE SUBWAY
, I have butterflies in my stomach. I pray that my deodorant is doing its job.

My mind is replaying yesterday’s kiss in the art room and I keep wondering a) at what point in the date it will happen again, and b) whether I’ll be able to anticipate it in time to pop some gum.

We’re meeting at the Forty-second Street subway station right next to the ticket booth. When I arrive, he’s already there. We hug a little longer than necessary.

“How about Chevy’s?” he says.

“Sure.”

We walk outside, craning our necks to look at the Times Square buildings with their ticker tapes and huge fashion billboards. Jared takes my hand as we squeeze through the throngs of people on the sidewalk in front of the New Amsterdam Theatre. I like the strong grip of his hand as he guides me forward.

In the restaurant, the waiter leads us to a booth and gives us menus. We look at each other over the table, smiling like idiots.

“Thanks for coming out,” he says.

“I’m the one who asked you, didn’t I? I’m glad you didn’t have to work.”

“I finished a couple hours ago.” He toys with a sugar pack. “You know, I’ve read every blog on your Web site. Gives real insight into that brain of yours.”

“Pretty twisted, huh?”

“Nah. I’m just afraid to check the Web site when I get home. If there’s a blog called
How to Survive a Bad Date,
I’ll know where I stand.”

I grin, and he cracks a smile. But I take his point; I’d better be careful not to use my own love life as blogging material. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

The waiter comes by and we both order sodas.

“So what’d you do today?” he asks.

“I met my sister for coffee. But when I got there, she
was with her loser ex-boyfriend. He’s going to break her heart again, I know it.”

“What makes him such a loser?”

“He doesn’t know what he wants. He says he loves her one minute, and that he isn’t ready for a serious relationship the next. She was on an emotional roller coaster the whole time they were together. He’s the type of guy who always feels there’s something else out there, something better. He’s like my dad. That must be why Tracey’s drawn to him.”

“That’s too bad. I learned a long time ago that you can’t tie your happiness to someone else. Your sister’s an adult and she’s responsible for her own life.”

“I know. I’m protective of her, though. I keep feeling like I should be able to prevent her from making mistakes.”

“You’ve got to learn to distance yourself. That’s what I had to do with my mom. She’s screwed up, I told you that. I can’t see her ever being clean. I had to distance myself so that I could stay sane, you know? It’s not the same as with your sister, it’s a lot more extreme, but you get the point.”

“How often do you see your mom?”

“Twice a year. I dread it. I know I should go more—she’s only two hours away. But I can’t handle it. I talked about it with Rodrigo. He said it’s okay if I put myself first, and that’s what I’m doing. Anyway, this is heavy talk for Chevy’s. So tell me, how’d you become the Oracle of Dating in the first place?”

The waiter has to come back twice because we’re too
busy talking to look at our menus. After we discuss the history of the Oracle, Jared tells me all about the youth center where he works. Lately he’s run into problems because a few of the kids have been swiping the art supplies. Most of the kids are foster kids, and Jared understands how it feels not to have the things you want. Problem is, if they keep doing it, the art class will be shut down because the center doesn’t have the money to keep replenishing supplies.

Eventually two plates of food—chimichangas and fajitas—are put in front of us and the waiter cautions us not to touch the plates because they’re very hot. Still, I manage to embarrass myself when I accidentally rest my finger on the side of the plate and yelp. Jared tells me to dip my finger in his glass of ice water, which he won’t be drinking because he prefers his Coke.

I have no room for dessert, but when he orders key lime pie and an extra spoon, I can’t resist a few bites.

The bill comes, and the waiter puts it right in front of Jared. I grab for it, but Jared’s already holding it. “I’m getting this.”

“Thanks, but there’s no reason you should. I’m a feminist.” I dig into my wallet and pull out a twenty, putting it on the table.

Jared’s eyes narrow. He probably has no idea how sexy he looks when he’s annoyed. “I can pay for a freakin’ dinner, Kayla.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to set a precedent. I believe in going Dutch.”

One side of his mouth turns up. “How about this—you let me pay this time, and we go Dutch in the future?”

“Okay.” I put my twenty back in my wallet. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

We leave Chevy’s. Jared takes my hand, and I hope it isn’t just because of the crowded sidewalk.

“What do you want to do now?” he asks. “There’s an arcade down the street, and a pool hall and a rock ’n’ bowl place.”

“Let’s take a walk and see where we end up.”

We head north on Eighth Avenue. It’s a perfect night for November—warm enough that we can walk for a while without freezing, and cool enough to give me an excuse to get close to him. As we walk, we occasionally make fun of tourists with fanny packs, or stop to look at street artists’ sketches.

We’re watching a middle-aged woman being sketched, and I turn to him. “You could do this. You’d be great.”

“You think?”

“I
know.
”

We step into a café for hot chocolate and linger there for a while, the conversation flowing from one topic to another. Eventually, we see the streets get crowded, indicating the theaters must have let out. I catch sight of a digital clock on a billboard. “Oh, no!”

“What?”

“It’s after eleven. I have to get home.” I look around. “The 2 train is a couple of blocks back.”

“All right. I can take that train, too.”

We double back to the station, wait ten minutes and get on the train. The car is more than half full. Good for safety, bad for privacy. This is not, I realize sadly, the place where Jared will give me another one of those kisses. And in a few stops, I’ll get off the train and I’ll have to wait days! I don’t think I can handle that. Why can’t this be a hundred years ago, when I’d probably be married already, not dealing with this kind of frustration? He looks so tempting sitting there beside me, leaning his head against an ad that reads,
Know HIV,
I just want to eat him up.

When my stop comes, he grabs my hand and gets off the train with me. “I’m not in a rush. I’ll walk you home.”

I’m not going to argue.

On the walk from the station, we’re pretty much silent. Both of us have popped gum in the past few minutes. I’m wired with anticipation.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

“Brooke. How I have her to thank for this.”

“What do you mean?”

He stops and turns to me. We’re standing on the sidewalk in the darkness under a tree. “Because she made fun of you for not getting into the bar. That’s how I knew you’d showed up. When I thought you hadn’t, I figured
there was no way you were interested. Why didn’t you tell me you tried to get in?”

“I heard you left with Brooke, so I didn’t want you to know I’d made the effort to be there. It didn’t seem to matter.”