The day went by fast, and before Tate knew it, it was almost closing hour.
She had already texted her mom earlier, letting her know she wouldn't be coming straight home after school because she was hanging out with someone. Her mom had been okay with it — but not without sending a bunch of winking emojis.
Tate rolled her eyes, smiling a little. Her mom was definitely teasing her.
Martha, however, had been quiet all day. And Tate couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with seeing her and Damien returning to class together — or worse, had she seen them out on the football field? The thought gnawed at her.
The silence between them was uncomfortable. Tate wasn't used to it — Martha usually did most of the talking, usually setting the pace for their conversations. But now, everything felt different.
Tate decided she had to say something. Maybe talking about her plans with Allen would help ease the weirdness.
Clearing her throat, Tate said, "I'm going out with Allen after school."
Martha looked up from her book, her expression surprised. "Wow, really?"
"Yeah," Tate said, trying to sound casual. "He asked me on Saturday, but I couldn't go because I wasn't feeling well."
As soon as the words left her mouth, guilt pricked at her. Another lie. She hated how easily it was becoming.
Martha closed her book slightly and said, "Tate, can I ask you something?" Tate's heart skipped.
"Yeah?" she said carefully.
"Is everything okay between you and Damien?"
Tate stiffened. Shit. Why was Martha bringing him up?
"Yes," Tate said quickly. "Why are you asking?"
Martha hesitated before answering, "I just thought it was weird… on Saturday, when he was banging on the door at his house. Like he was trying to talk to you or something."
Tate scrambled for an explanation. "It's not like that, Martha, I promise." Another lie.
She added, "He was just trying to check if I was okay."
Martha nodded slowly. "Okay. But promise you'll tell me if anything is going on?"
"Don't worry," Tate said, forcing a small smile. "Nothing's going on. You can relax and enjoy your picnic."
Martha frowned. "I wasn't asking because of my picnic. I just wanted to be sure you're okay. And honestly… I don't even know if we're still going."
Tate blinked. "Why?"
Martha shrugged, looking down. "It's like something shifted with him since Saturday. He didn't text me all weekend. And he hasn't said anything about the picnic either."
"Oh," Tate said, unsure how to respond, a mix of emotions stirring inside her.
Just as she was about to say something else, the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day.
"I have to go," Tate told Martha, standing up.
Martha smiled and said, "Enjoy yourself—and text me all the details when you get home!"
"I will," Tate promised.
She packed her books into her bag and headed out of the school. Allen had already sent the location of the restaurant, and she planned to take a bus there.
On the bus, Tate put in her earphones and listened to music, trying to calm herself. This was her first time going out with a guy, and a nervous flutter stirred in her chest.
"It's Allen," she reminded herself. "He's my friend. He always makes me feel comfortable. He's always been good to me. There's nothing to be nervous about."
When the bus finally stopped at her destination, Tate got down and looked around, feeling a little overwhelmed. The restaurant was beautiful—fancy, but not too fancy.
"Are teenagers even allowed here?" she wondered, texting Allen to ask if he was already inside.
He replied almost immediately: Come in.
Taking a deep breath, Tate walked through the restaurant doors. A waiter greeted her politely, and scanning the room, she quickly spotted Allen waving at her from a table.
She smiled and made her way toward him.
"Hi, Tate!" he said enthusiastically as she sat down.
"Hi, Allen," she replied, still smiling. "I hope I'm not late?"
"No, you're just on time," he said.
Tate glanced around nervously. "This place is a bit fancy. I told you not to go all out," she said, half-teasing.
Allen grinned sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to bring you somewhere nice."
Tate's smile softened. She appreciated the gesture more than she could say. "No need to say sorry. I love it," she said warmly.
They ordered their meals and spent the next hour talking and laughing. Allen asked about her day, and they ended up covering all sorts of random topics. At one point, he made her laugh so hard she wiped away tears.
She was having so much fun that when she glanced at her phone, she was shocked to see almost two hours had passed.
"I should probably go," Tate said reluctantly. "I don't want to miss my curfew."
Allen chuckled. "Me too. I totally forgot about it—I was having too much fun hanging out with you."
He stood to go and pay the bill, and Tate told him she needed to use the bathroom before they left.
She asked a nearby waiter for directions, found the bathroom without any trouble, and freshened up.
On her way back to the main restaurant, she received a message and, distracted by her phone, wasn't watching where she was going.
Before she could react, she bumped into someone—hard.
A drink splashed, the glass cup fell, and Tate immediately started apologizing—
"I'm so sorry—" she began, then froze when she looked up.
It was Damien.
Tate stood frozen, staring at Damien. He looked just as surprised to see her.
Without thinking, she blurted out, "What are you doing here?"
"My dad owns this place," he said casually, shrugging.
Tate blinked, caught off guard. She had no idea Damien's parents were that wealthy—owning a whole restaurant?
Damien signaled to a waiter, who quickly came over to clean up the shards of broken glass. Then he turned back to her and said, "I should be asking you the same thing."
"It's none of your business," Tate snapped.
Damien's gaze shifted behind her, and his expression darkened slightly when he spotted Allen standing at the counter.
"So you had a date with Allen... at my dad's restaurant," he said, his voice low.
Tate crossed her arms and replied sarcastically, "Yeah, don't worry next time we'll totally check who owns the place before picking it for a date."
She turned to leave, but Damien reached out and grabbed her hand gently.
"Can you please go easy on me... and unblock me?" he said quietly.
Tate opened her mouth to respond, but then she spotted Allen walking toward them. She quickly pulled her hand free, stepping back.
Allen looked between them, a little confused, but stayed casual. "Hey, man," he said to Damien.
"Hey," Damien replied stiffly.
Allen glanced at Tate, then asked Damien, "You here for dinner or something?"
Damien shook his head. "No. Just... came to do something."
"Oh, okay," Allen said, still looking a little puzzled. Then he smiled at Tate and said, "Let's go."
Tate was a bit grateful that Damien had tried to be polite to Allen. She didn't want an awkward interaction between them.
Allen had already picked up her school bag. As they turned to leave, Allen said, "Bye, man," over his shoulder to Damien.
Without looking back, Tate walked out of the restaurant with him but she could still feel Damien's eyes on her