How You Get the Girl

I Go on a Friend Date

Life in the friend zone dragged on for the rest of the week. Ben and I worked on our project. I worked in the art room after school. We went over to his house on Tuesday and worked on the project some more. He helped me with my math on Wednesday. I went home and did enough homework to do well in my classes. And I counted the days until my friend date with Ben because I was just that pathetic.

I picked Ben up at one o'clock on Saturday. I did not tell him where we were going because I wanted it to be a surprise. Instead, we discussed the new Star Trek movies and who was the best Star Trek captain. I voted for Picard but he was a Kirk fan. At least he did not like Janeway, that would have been a deal-breaker. I could tell he wanted to know what we were going to be doing but I ignored his hints. Finally, he just broke down and asked.

"To the Minneapolis Institute of Art!" I told him. "I love going there and wandering around. It's my favorite way to spend an afternoon."

His face took on an unreadable expression but it often did. I hoped he would like it as much as I did. As we walked into the Minneapolis Art Institute I pointed up at a big yellow blown glass sculpture that was hanging above us in the lobby. It was an amazing piece of art. "That's Dale Chihuly's Sunburst. His work is fabulous. Don't you love how the color radiates from the inside? It's so beautiful." I told him.

"Yes," he said, "it is," looking at me. I felt my heart skip a beat. He means the art I told myself.

And of course, whenever I felt uncomfortable or embarrassed I talked. "His work was part of what inspired my designs for the spaceships in our game. Well, his work and H.P. Lovecraft," I said Ben.

"I can see it," he said. "And you have the weirdest reading habits. I'm not sure anyone else on student council or any of the cheerleaders you are friends with have read H.P Lovecraft."

"I'm glad I'm not totally predictable," I retorted, feeling oddly happy that I had managed to surprise him.

"You're anything but predictable," he answered.

We wandered around the museum for a couple of hours. I showed him all my favorite pieces. The Asian art collection was wonderful but the paintings were what drew me. We stood in front of Matisse's Three Bathers. "He captures so much so simply. The dark outlines of the figures, the bold colors. I love it," I told Ben. "I wish I could paint like that. To have that kind of genius would be amazing."

"Your drawings are amazing," he said.

"Thanks, but not like this," I answered, feeling embarrassed at the compliment. I knew I was a good artist, but it felt different when Ben said it. He sounded like he really believed my art was amazing, not just good, but amazing. I had to remind myself that it did not mean anything. He was just a nice guy.

I could have spent hours more at the museum but I knew from experience that most people have a shorter attention span for art than I did. As Ben and I walked to my car I asked him, "I'm starving. Do you want to grab an early dinner?"

"Sure," he said.

"I know a great Ramen place near here. Do you like Ramen?" I asked.

"The instant noodles?" Ben said, sounding dubious.

"No," I said with a laugh. "A Ramen place serves big bowls of Japanese soup with homemade noodles, seaweed, bamboo shoots, boiled egg, and meat in with the broth. It's delicious." But he still looked doubtful.

"Please, try it. I promise you will like it." I begged him.

He agreed and we got in my car. I drove to the Ramen place and we went in. I ordered two bowls of Shoyu ramen at the counter and paid for both.