Gerard wanted to take me out on a date today. When I woke up, Juno was already tearing through my closet. As soon as she saw I was awake, she began to speak giddily to me like we were teenagers getting ready for a hot night with the star quarterback in the back of his mother’s SUV.

As she scanned my clothing, I pulled on one of the things she yanked out and went downstairs. Gerard said he’d be here sometime during the morning to pick me up. I settled on frozen waffles for breakfast, and waited semi-patiently for Gerard to arrive.

His knock on the door couldn’t come soon enough, and the two of us hurried out the door. Juno was probably still upstairs, rummaging through my closet. Another thing about her that drove me nuts. She was completely oblivious to things going on around her.

When we climbed into Gerard’s car, he reached over and grabbed my hand, easily lacing our fingers together. It threw me off at first, but then I remembered that we were engaged, and by accepting his proposal I had basically given him permission to do what he pleased. Besides, we’d already slept together. Can’t get much more intimate than that.

“This is going to be a sucky way to start a first date, but I actually have to swing by the studio to talk with Jeff for five minutes tops. You can come in if you want, Jeff won’t mind. After that I was going to take you to the movies, if that’s alright.”

“That’s fine,” I responded, giving him my best smile. I honestly didn’t mind where we went; this was one of the very few dates I had ever been on, and I was simply happy to be here. We could sit in the car in my driveway, and I’d still be happy.

“You look nice, by the way,” he gave my hand a quick squeeze to reaffirm his compliment, before pulling into the parking lot of a large building. I opted to wait in the car, and he promised it wouldn’t take more than five minutes.

Ten minutes later, Gerard was bolting across the parking lot, his mane of bright red hair flying around him like fire. I laughed at him when he threw himself at the driver’s seat, huffing for breath, “How long did that take?”

“Ten minutes,” I chided, giving him a disappointed look. He grabbed my hand and began showering me with apologies, some of them so outrageous that I couldn’t take him seriously. Gerard kept a hold of my hand as we drove to the movie theater, and we both decided on some really lame romance movie, and spent most of the time laughing at it.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Gerard faked a stretch, and laid an arm around my shoulders. With a small laugh, I shifted and laid my head on the crook of his shoulder and neck, inhaling. Still smelled like my pillow - that I hadn’t washed, because I’m a certifiable creep. I wouldn’t tell him that, though.

Gerard didn’t put anymore moves on me at the theater, and for that I was glad. It probably would have given me a heart attack - the good kind. In the car, he twined his hand with mine, and drove back to my house. I noticed quickly that he didn’t like being without some form of contact - hand holding, his arm around my shoulder.

When we got back to my house, Juno had left and we could laze around my house in peace. Gerard flipped the television’s channels, while I pulled my phone out to check my messages.

It had been on silent for the day, since I didn’t need it going off in the theater. But when I stared at the screen, I was dumbfounded. My inbox was completely full of messages about new followers on twitter, friend requests on Facebook, and more. I silently handed my phone off to Gerard, and he gave me an apologetic smile.

“Frank might have spilt the beans on twitter last night about our engagement and upcoming child,” I groaned and logged in, looking at all the tweets that were directed at me. I expected it to be some form of hate mail, but I didn’t see a single rude or hurtful thing there. One of them caught my eye, specifically congratulating a “Mrs. Way”.

“Mrs. Way? Jesus Christ,” I grumbled, and he laughed openly as he pulled me to his chest.

“No worries, Olivia. They’re all happy for us, don’t stress that pretty head of yours.”

“You think my head is pretty?” I grumbled into his chest, and he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to the crown of my head.

“Like a beautiful snowflake, sugar.”

“You’re not going to be saying that in a couple months when I’m big and fat.”

“You’re right,” he used my chin to tilt my head up, so he could look me in the eye, “Then you’ll be absolutely radiant.”

Notes

Thanks for reading.