The Exception to the Rule

by Christina Lauren

I like a lot of things, but I don’t LOVE any one thing. It feels scary, you know? To worry I might commit to something because I have to but not because I love it.

He came out looking like an A+ sex stud, and I came out looking like Gollum curled around her bottle of wine.

“We get soup dumplings when we’re thinking about each other.” She was thinking about me.

“Do you ever have a feeling about someone? Like they’re your safe space and, I don’t know, like someday it could be more?” I swallow, nodding. “Yeah. Of course.” I’m looking right at her. “I have a feeling about him.” But the thing is, when she looks up at me and our eyes lock, I’m pretty sure she has a feeling about me, too.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” His question comes out of absolutely nowhere, and my fists drop like stones. “What?” “Dinner.” He cutely mimes spooning food into his mouth. “Sun goes down. People eat.” “Like a date?” “I hope so? I intend to flirt.”

C . . . my hands are shaking right now. I am freaking the hell out. I live in Philly, too. And I think you know that. He replies with a phone number. And when I enter it into a text box, an existing contact pops up on-screen. The Hot TA.

It’s my conundrum wrapped in a mystery tied with a puzzle shoved in a pickle jar.

He walks around the hood and sees me at the same time I see the cupcake box in his hand. Forget flowers; give me a cupcake and it’s a perfect date.

“I don’t normally kiss before the first date,” I tell him. “But you’re the exception to the rule.”

Are we still going to be emailing each other from the same couch on Valentine’s Day in fifty years?