"I don't think I can do this." I turn away from the mirror, full make-up on, my hair curled, my dress on, and sit on my bed. "I can't go on a date with a guy I've never met!"
"We went to lots of parties at his frat freshman year; I'm sure we must've met him! We just don't remember meeting him," Sophie says.
I laugh and fall back on my bed. "This is crazy, right?"
Sophie mimics me and lies down on the bed. "I wouldn't say crazy. It'll be an adventure for sure!" She stands up from my bed and pulls out a handle of vodka. It's my secret stash that is apparently not so secret. "A shot to help with nerves."
"Sophie, I already told you I can't get drunk tonight. I need to be able to write the article as detailed as possible."
"We both know you're a heavy-weight, Brooklyn." She hands me the handle. "One shot won't hurt."
She's right. I take a pull of vodka and hand the bottle back to her.
I shake out my body a little before jumping off my bed and rubbing my hands together. "This is crazy." I check my phone. "He just messaged me. He's downstairs." I take another pull.
It's for good luck.
I hug Sophie goodbye and walk downstairs to the entrance of the apartment. I'm overthinking everything. Do I take notes so I remember what he says? Do I tell him about the article? Do I act like I really like him? Will that make the article more exciting?
Aiden is sitting in a chair in the lobby. He stands when he sees me. "Brooklyn?" He says my name like it's a question.
For a minute, I don't think he's actually real. Sophie and I spent hours stalking him online, looking at his photos, many shirtless. It's so weird to see him in person, this chiseled god of a man. His voice is deep, sexy. There's such a relaxing composure about him that almost makes him seem comforting.
"Yeah," I breathe out a shaky breath after realizing I was just imagining him shirtless. "Hi."
He takes a minute to look at my outfit before meeting my eyes. "Hi."
There's an uncomfortable silence as we both stand in the lobby, unsure of what to say to each other. I've been on enough blind dates to know that this is expected. The amount of awkward silences I've had to endure with my Tinder dates...
Aiden clears his throat. "We should head to the bus."
"Okay."
"How was your day?"
Here comes the small talk. "It was good! Yours?"
"Good. Good."
I nod. "Good."
Good suddenly didn't seem like a real word.
"What's your major?"
"Journalism," I answer.
"Right, that was in your bio. Sorry."
He's unusually apologetic for your average fuckboy.
"You're okay. What's yours?"
"What's my what?"
"Your major. That's what we were talking about," I say, a small smile on my face. He seems really nervous. I think those two shots helped me with the nerves.
"Oh, political science."
"Suiting for the president."
He smiles. "I guess, yeah." He points toward a yellow school bus parked on the curb. "That's the bus."
There's a line of people waiting to get on the bus. Some guys have given their dates their jackets, even though it's not cold out at all. The girls all look so pretty, heels high and dresses short. I start to feel out-of-place, just like I'm playing dress-up again.
Aiden's hand touches the small of my back as he guides us in line, and I feel a little dizzy, excited. He shakes hands with the few guys around us, all of his brothers. I try to ignore the stares from both the guys and the girls, as I'm sure everyone wants to know who Mr. President is taking to formal.
"This is Brooklyn," he introduces me to the couple in front of us in line. "Brooklyn, this isâ"
"My fucking man!" A very drunk guy comes from behind us to tackle Aiden.
Aiden laughs and fights him off. "Bradley, my guy!"
"This is my man," Bradley turns to me to say, his words slurred together. "My fucking man! And who is his lovely lady?"
I hold back a laugh. "Brooklyn."
"Brooklyn Beckham? Is that you?" He squints his eyes. "Is your mom single? Brooklyn's mom has got it going on," he starts to sing.
Aiden pushes Bradley, and he stumbles to the left. "Dude, how much did you have to drink?"
"Only a little bit," he says. He turns his head to mouth "a lot" to me. Bradley walks over to tackle another guy in line.
"That's my roommate," Aiden says. "I promise I'm not that crazy."
We move up in line for the bus, eventually getting on. Aiden has me go in first, probably so he can get a good look at my ass. Jokes on him, I barely have one.
I sit down and scoot close to the window. Aiden sits next to me, his thigh touching mine. He definitely has more room on the seat, and I could ask him to move over if I wanted to. But I don't really want to. Because that would make me come off mean. And he has nice thighs. From what I could tell.
There's more awkward silence. I can tell Aiden is thinking of things to talk about, his mouth moving every once in awhile in an attempt to form words that just don't come out. Eventually, he decides to ask the burning question he must be dying to know.
"Did you pregame at all?"
So frat of him to ask, really. I'm sure he's hoping I pregamed just enough that one more drink would be a ticket to his pants. "I didn't." I had to lie.
"Me neither," he says. "Kind of regretting it."
"Am I really that bad of a date?" I ask, the filter I usually have missing tonight.
"Oh god, no, no. I'm so sorry you thought that. You're a great date. You're so cool. No, no, I mean hot. You're so hot!"
I squint my eyes in confusion. How is this the president of the top frat? He's a nervous wreck talking to me. "Are you okay?"
"Fuck, I'm fucking this up," he says. "Shit! I shouldn't say fuck. Oh, fuck! I said it again!"
I can't help but laugh, and I really laugh, not a fake, polite laugh. Aiden starts laughing too, his eyes crinkling at the corner. His laugh is so sweet, so genuine. Yet still so sexy. I'm going to get myself in trouble thinking this.
"I'm sorry, Brooklyn." He calms down his laughter. "It's just... I've never been on a date before."
"You what?" I genuinely wasn't sure I heard him correctly. There's no way this guy has never been on a date before.
"Yeah..." He twiddles with his fingers. "I don't really date, you know? It's more of a hook-up at a party kind of thing. And I've always gone to these formals alone, you know, to network for President. So... this is, well, you're my first date."
"Really?" Very interesting, Mr. President. "So, I really am the First Lady," I say. I just said that out loud. To Aiden. Where is my goddamn filter, for god sake?
"Sorry, what did you say?" He asks, the amusement in his voice telling me he already knows what I just said.
I tilt my head back and smile, his energy so comforting and happy. I'm sure it's why so many girls fall for him. "So, where is this bus taking us?"
"The hotel. It's an overnight formal. Did I forget to mention that?"
It's like god wants me to get an STD at this point.
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