Love, Love, Love Page 4

  “I’ve lived here for about ten years. I moved to Seattle from Chicago when I was six years old,” he answered. “Well, now that you’ve been here for almost a year, what do you think of the Emerald City?”

  “It is veddy nice,” I replied. “I like to be near so much vater.”

  “Where in Hungary are you from?”

  I had been expecting this question. “Budapest.” I pronounced the capital city in the proper way: Budapescht.

  “Well, you have water there, too, right? Isn’t Budapest divided in half by the Danube River?”

  My heart stopped. Yes, I wanted to say. Yes, it is. But how did he know so much about Budapest?

  As if reading my mind, Julian continued, “I’ve actually been to Budapest before. My family travels a lot, and we did a whole Eastern Europe trip a couple of summers ago. We only spent a few days there, but I remember thinking it was a very cool city.”

  Great. An expert on my adopted homeland. “Yes, it is great city.” Suddenly, I was feeling even more nervous than before. What were the chances that Julian had visited Hungary before? What if he brought up something I wasn’t prepared for? Luckily, our conversation was interrupted by Molly and Spence, who had just come off the dance floor. Molly was already aglow, face plastered with her trademark cute-boy-induced grin.

  “Yo, Julian, let’s get outta here,” Spence said, grabbing his coat.

  “Cool. We’re ready.” He turned to me. “Right?”

  “Right.” As ready as I’ll ever be.

  We headed out and meandered around the bustling neighborhood of Capitol Hill, trying to come up with a plan for where to go next. Seattle isn’t exactly known for its nightlife, but this part of the city had no shortage of cafés and restaurants and people milling about. The light rain that picked up helped us make a decision, and we ducked into a diner on Broadway near the community college, waiting a few minutes before being led to the only open booth in the place. We didn’t realize until we scooted in—Julian and I on one side, Molly and Spence on the other—that the table was most likely vacant because of its proximity to the portable karaoke setup in the corner, not to mention the nearby drunken college student belting out Nirvana’s “Come as You Are.”

  Julian and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Well, at least we’ll be able to talk more easily now,” Julian shouted.

  I chuckled and opened the menu, pretending to read the listed food items but not actually doing it on account of being completely distracted by Julian. I didn’t know if it was his presence, energy, sex appeal, or just really good cologne, but any time he leaned in close to ask me a question or look over my shoulder at the menu, the hair on my arms stood on end in his honor. I couldn’t be positive he was feeling it, too, but I think I finally discovered the true meaning of chemistry.

  Despite this nearly paralyzing physical response I had to Julian, I was actually starting to loosen up. Between the ridiculousness of the karaoke singers (and I use the word “singers” loosely), Molly and Spence’s over-the-top PDA, and the fact that I’d had four Diet Coke refills in the span of two hours, I was feeling chattier than I would have expected. In the lull between over-the-top performances, Julian and I talked about the best and worst parts of Seattle, school, and Budapest. Hoping he would view me as a mysterious European, I steered the conversation back to him at every opportunity. Plus, Molly has always said there’s nothing guys love to do more than talk about themselves (well, almost nothing), and Julian seemed happy enough to oblige me.

  I found out that Julian went to the Collins School, a private academy known for its rugby team, serious endowment, and class after class of graduates going on to Ivy League schools. Admittedly, I had a slight chip on my shoulder against private school kids, if for no other reason than their schools seemed to be a lot nicer than public ones and I assumed all the kids who went to them were privileged richies. But Janna Ika Ilka didn’t have those prejudices against private school kids. Heck, for all I knew, she might even be one. Therefore, I decided to lose the chip and let it go.

  As Julian continued talking, I became increasingly comfortable with my role of Janna Ika Ilka. I can only assume this shift occurred because my alter ego was inherently more interesting than I was. With every look and smile from Julian, the message that someone found her attractive came through loud and clear. Embracing the freeness of being someone else, I stopped worrying so much and did my best to savor the attention and circumstances. I almost felt a little like Cinderella, that is, if Cinderella had been a lying poseur. But there’d be plenty of time to deal with that reality. For tonight I was going to stay in the moment as much as possible.

  The four of us had just finished picking through a ginormous basket of cheese fries when the karaoke guy made an unexpected announcement. “Next up, it’s Julian and Janna, singing ‘I’ve Had the Time of My Life,’ the theme song from Dirty Dancing!”

  Julian stopped talking midsentence to look at Spence, who was laughing his ass off.

  “Dude, that is so lame!” Julian laughed, reaching across the table and throwing a mock punch.

  “You know you love this song, J. Oh wait a sec, it’s your mom who loves it. Oops.” Spence laughed.

  “Julian and Janna! Calling Julian and Janna! Come on up! Let’s give them a big hand, folks!”

  Julian looked at me with a resigned but entertained look on his face. “I’ll do it if you’ll do it.”

  I looked at Molly, who apparently had gotten swept up in Spence’s deviousness. “Hey, Janna, isn’t Dirty Dancing one of your favorite movies?”

  Julian slid out of the booth and held out his hand for me. I was at yet another crossroads. Before tonight, if you were to ask me what type of situation would strike terror and fear in my heart, singing karaoke would have been near the top of the list. All those people? Staring at me? Listening to me? Most likely laughing at me? The threat of public humiliation jogged painful memories of the one and only time my mom had forced me into a pageant and I was struck with a paralyzing case of stage fright. So, karaoke? There was no way. But when I saw Julian looking at me with those gorgeous eyes and holding out his hand, I knew I couldn’t say no. Or at least Janna Ika Ilka couldn’t.

  A second later the music was playing and Julian was crooning out the first line of the song. I knew the second line was mine. So I did what any shameless karaoke singer in a room full of strangers at a random diner on a Friday night would do. I sang. Loudly. Ridiculously. And with an accent, of course.

  An hour later the four of us were standing next to Molly’s car facing what I always felt was the awkward time of any first date—the good-bye. I hated the uncertainty of such moments, unsure about how the actual parting of ways would transpire. Would there be a handshake? A hug? A nonchalant nod of the head paired with a “See you around?” Perhaps in avoidance of the inevitable, Julian and I focused on laughing about our pitiful karaoke performance. Or maybe we were just trying (unsuccessfully) to ignore Molly and Spence, who apparently weren’t suffering from awkward-first-date-good-bye syndrome at all. No—they were leaned against the hood of the car making out like Spence was going off to war.

  I turned to check on whether or not Spence and Molly had broken free of their lip-lock long enough to come up for air, when suddenly Julian leaned toward me. I froze. Was he coming in for a kiss? Maybe he did think that Hungarian girls were fast. Did he not know I hadn’t actually ever had a real kiss before and that the very idea of it scared the crap out of me? Thank God I didn’t have to find out. In a move I found both classy and unexpected, Julian lightly kissed me on both cheeks, Euro style. I loved the way his soft lips felt against my cheeks, his warm breath so close to my neck. My body responded with an involuntary off-balance sway paired with the tingles. Julian pulled back and steadied me when he grabbed my hands with his.

  “I can’t believe I just met you right before you’re about to leave Seattle … that really sucks.” Despite the darkness and fog that had settled in, Julian’s light ey
es shined brightly toward me. “So, when do you actually go back to Hungary?”

  I felt a stab of guilt as my mind raced for a date. Into it popped the day Molly and I were slated to leave for our trip to Europe, assuming I got my grade up.

  “June twenty-seventh. More zan vun month,” I replied hopefully. I may not have known where this was going, but part of me definitely wanted to find out.

  I heard Molly unlock the car and pop open her door.

  “Ready, Janna?” she called.

  “Yes.” I turned back to Julian. “Sank you for tonight.”

  Julian raised my hand to his lips, giving it a gentle peck. He put his other hand behind his back and bowed down in mock chivalry, before helping me into the car and gently closing the door.

  “I’ll call you,” Julian said through the door.

  Molly started up the car and we waved good-bye before pulling away. I waited until we were a solid two blocks from the guys before letting out a bloodcurdling scream.

  “I know, right?” Molly laughed. “See, I told you you could pull it off!”

  I was laughing now, too, in disbelief, in giddy excitement, in shock. “I can’t believe I just did that. Can you believe I just did that? I can’t believe I did that!” I tended to repeat myself when I had full-on spaz attacks. “I mean, did you see me? I sang karaoke!”

  “I know. I was there, remember?” Molly rolled her eyes as she laughed. “Pretty impressive, really, considering your history with performing. Maybe you won’t even have to worry about stage fright anymore!”

  “Um, yeah, let’s not go there, okay?” I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes, letting out a long sigh. “Oh … my … God. I’m so relieved that’s over. I still can’t believe I actually did it. Do you think he really believes that I’m from Hungary?”

  “Of course he does. You were great tonight. I actually think he likes you.” Molly sounded almost surprised but pleased at the possibility. “And what about Spence? Did you see how into me he was? God, he is so gorgeous! And damn, can that boy kiss!”

  Now it was Molly’s turn to let out a giddy scream. I laughed with her and then turned to gaze out the window as we drove back to Molly’s house. I was happy one of our favorite songs started playing on the radio, because Molly cranked up the volume and focused on singing along rather than continuing our conversation. My head was swimming with a combination of guilt, excitement, confidence, and anxiety. I needed a few minutes to decompress.

  By the time we pulled into Molly’s driveway I was in a silent daze, and I half walked/half floated into the house.

  “Hey, girls! How was your night?” Molly’s mom called from the den room as we passed by the doorway.

  “Great,” Molly replied.

  “That’s good. By the way, there’s some leftover Judy’s in the freezer if you need a little snack,” she said. Molly’s mom may not have been home much, but when she was, she was the coolest mom around. No curfews, no prying, no coaches. Plus, she had an addiction to the best homemade ice cream in Seattle, which definitely worked in our favor.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Molly said. “Good night!”

  “G’night!”

  An hour later Molly and I were sprawled out on her futon listening to tunes and finishing off what had been a pint of mint ice cream with chunks of Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies (a true match made in heaven). We were engaged in an in-depth date recap. Usually these discussions consisted of me validating Molly’s feelings and agreeing with her about whatever impressions she had regarding her crush du jour. But tonight I really needed to talk about me. And Julian. And me and Julian. And what it all meant. At first Molly was relatively patient and engaging in said conversation, but after a while I could tell she was ready to get back to talking about more interesting things. Like herself.

  “I just wasn’t expecting any of this to happen,” I said.

  “Any of what?”

  “This. Like, I think I like him. And he’s so much more incredible and cute than anybody who’s ever shown interest in me before,” I said. My forehead crinkled with worry. “To be honest, I don’t get why exactly he likes me. That is, if he even does like me.”

  “He does … trust me. I saw the way he looks at you,” Molly said.

  “But do you think that’s just because he thinks I’m someone else?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear her reply.

  “Well … probably …”

  That was definitely not the right answer. Molly must have realized this because she quickly back-pedaled.

  “… or maybe not. It’s too soon to tell.”

  “But come on, how much longer can I really keep this up? I mean, I did kind of like being Janna Ika Ilka tonight.” I rolled my eyes at the sound of my new middle name. “But I also feel terrible about lying. What’s Julian going to do when he finds out the truth?”

  “Look, we’re just having fun, right? I’m having fun. Are you having fun?”

  “Yes.” I had to admit, I was.

  “Well, then, let’s worry about that when we have to worry about that. Anyway … Julian might end up being a loser and be out of the picture before you even have to tell him the truth, right? So, just keep it up for one more week and then we’ll re-evaluate,” she said. “I promise, it’s all going to work out.”

  “How can you be so sure?” I answered skeptically.

  “I just am. Now can we talk about Spence?” she asked. It was clear that Molly was done placating me.

  “Sure.”

  “Thank you!” Molly said, exasperated. And with that, she launched into a forty-five-minute highlights reel of her date with Spence, from their first kiss to the fact that he’d already dropped several hints that he was thinking of bringing her to his junior prom. I lay down and closed my eyes, inserting the occasional “Oh, really?” and “That’s cool” at appropriate times, while my mind went through a highlights reel of its own.

  A slow smile spread across my face as I thought back to the diner and our song, the way Julian had kissed me so delicately on each cheek. Just thinking about it gave me the same tingly feeling I’d had earlier. Who knew a kiss on the cheek could be so sensual?

  Tonight had been perhaps one of the most unusual nights of my life. And while the fake accent and boho clothes probably had something to do with it, I had felt more confident, outgoing, and pretty tonight than I had in a long time, especially when hanging out with a guy. And that was something I could definitely get used to.

  The rest of the weekend dragged by, in part because I was starting it out with a serious sleep deficit thanks to the sleepover that didn’t actually involve sleep, and in part because I was wondering when and if I was going to hear from Julian again. I knew better than to expect a phone call the next day (Molly had educated me in the dos and don’ts when it comes to going out and frequency of communication), but a quick text would have been nice. You know, a “Hey, thanks for last night,” or “Just thinking about you and wanted to say hi,” or maybe even a little “How is my Hungarian gypsy love goddess today?”

  But instead of texting with Julian, I spent most of Saturday holed up in my room working on my extra-credit project for history class. Ms. Kendall had agreed to let me write a paper on Hungary’s move from communism to capitalism to boost my cultural studies grade, but I only had a week to get it done. Thankfully, my paper gave me the perfect excuse to duck out of my family’s regular volunteer obligation of cleaning up one of the beaches along Puget Sound, which, frankly, I just wasn’t up for. Small talk with Mom and Dad and other perfectly nice strangers for an entire afternoon? No thanks.

  On Sunday the sun made a rare May appearance, and in honor of the glowing orb in the sky and because I was ready for a break from any and all things having to do with Hungary, I didn’t protest too loudly when my mom and dad recruited me to help prep the garden bed for the vegetables we’d be buying at the edible plant sale later that day. They didn’t have to twist my arm too hard—I actually liked gardening.

  I had been w
orking outside for a few hours and had nearly finished weeding and mixing the fresh compost into the garden when Henry shouted from inside the kitchen.

  “Hey, Jan, who’s Julian?”

  Adrenaline raced through my body. “Huh?”

  “Somebody named Julian is calling your cell!”

  I dropped the mini spade and sprinted for the house, leaving a trail of dirt in my wake. I ripped the phone out of his hands and ran for the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

  “Hallo?” I answered, doing my best to sound as if I hadn’t just competed in the two-hundred-meter dash.

  “Janna? Hey, it’s Julian.”

  “Hallo, Julian.” I willed my heartbeat to steady.

  “Hey, listen, are you home?”

  “Yes. I am at zee house of my host family.” I was surprised at how seamlessly I slipped into Hungarian mode.

  “Well, I hope you don’t mind a visitor. I’m actually on your front porch. I went for a bike ride and was passing right by your neighborhood, so I thought I’d swing by and say hi. Is that okay?“

  Shoot. Why had I given him my address when he’d asked where in Queen Anne I lived? I looked into the mirror. My hair was piled on top of my head in a too-high ponytail and I had dirt smeared all over my hands, arms, and face. To top it off, I was wearing a ratty U.S. Olympic Team T-shirt circa 2004. Could I possibly look more American?

  “Hello? Are you still there?” Julian asked.

  “Yes! I am here. Sorry. I be out in one minute, okay?”

  “Cool!” Julian hung up.

  I frantically flipped on the faucet, violently scrubbing the dirt from my skin as best I could. Unfortunately, simple soap and water was no match for the dark layer of mud beneath my fingernails. Oh, well. It was the best I could do. I quickly dried off my hands and face and yanked out the ponytail holder, leaning over to shake my hair with my fingertips before standing up and flipping it over. I turned back to the mirror for another look. Frizz city. But barring the unlikely appearance of a magical fairy godmother with a transformational wand, there was only so much that could be done. I tried to flatten out the crooked wisps shooting in every direction and with shaky hands pulled my hair back into a low, more sophisticated ponytail.