“I think I can handle that.”
“So, do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow?”
“Definitely,” she says, no longer sounding nervous.
“I’ll pick you up at seven then.”
“Sounds good. Bye, Tucker.”
“Bye, Nat,” I say, hanging up the phone.
I fist-pump the air because I have a date with my dream girl.
Oh, holy fuck, I have a date with my dream girl. I don’t know how to date. What the hell am I going to wear or say or do?
I put my head into my hands. I don’t know how I’m going to do this without screwing up, but I have to try. She’s always been it for me, and this is my shot to prove to both her and myself that I’m good enough. I’m determined to be good enough.