How I Met My Man P3

Matt sat on a counter in his Mom’s kitchen, “So Andrea, what do you think about Tim?” I wanted to roll my eyes. What was this—junior high? I chose to shrug noncommittally. Matt continued, “Because he doesn’t talk much, so I know it might not seem like he’s interested.”

I was thrilled and smug and smugly thrilled. “He talked to me,” I said. Obviously that meant something.

Matt was surprised. Clearly, he didn’t know about my late night. “What are you doing today?” Matt asked. Matchmaking, apparently, wasn’t confined to Megan.

“Jared’s taking me to the bus stop because I have some serious studying to do.”

“You’re taking the bus back to Provo?” Matt asked with overdone surprise. I nodded. Matt then said, “I bet Tim could drive you back.”

Uh, right. “I doubt he’d want to spend his day driving.”

“No, really,” Matt was excited about his idea. I could tell he wouldn’t let go of it easily. And the thought of spending another, unexpected, two hours with Timothy was tempting. Oh, so tempting.

I let Matt drag me over to Tim’s house over my protests that phones had been invented for a reason. I walked into Tim’s kitchen and felt like a complete idiot. His family was eating breakfast. Six pairs of eyes fastened on me. I tried to smile. For heaven’s sake, I was a junior at college! I hadn’t lived at home since I was seventeen. I did not do the parent/family thing. The whole situation made me feel totally weird.

Then Matt announced, in front of everyone, our purpose in being there. I should have killed Matt . . . I mean, killed Matt’s great idea, before I’d found myself in this outrageously embarrassing situation. Especially when Timothy agreed to drive me without any sign of excitement or happiness, or anything. “Great,” I thought, “I’ve forced myself on him and now there is no polite way for him to refuse me.” Argh!

Tim finished his pancake while I fiddled with my hands and listened to Matt and Tim’s dad make small talk, and then Tim followed me and Matt back up the stairs. I turned around to look at Tim and tell him that he really, really did not have to drive me—I could easily take the bus--but before I had the chance Tim flashed me a huge grin. This was not a boy being forced into anything. My answering smile probably blasted him the voltage was so high.

We ended up overshooting Provo. I didn’t think it was possible to miss Provo driving south on I-15, but it is. We talked the whole way (about two hours) about everything and anything. The only thing I remember for sure is that we talked about music. I tried to convince him that oldies country was awesome. He wasn’t very convinced. But he liked me, so I didn’t find out until much later that he had been a major skater in high school and had listened to music that would have shocked and appalled me. I am glad he kept that to himself until I was totally hooked on him and willing to overlook anything.

It wasn’t until we had driven an extra half an hour that Tim started really looking at our surroundings and realized we had missed Provo. He pulled off on the next exit, which landed us in a very uninhabited stretch of country. I thought, seriously, that he had pulled the whole thing on purpose to get me alone and only when he didn’t park the car but just pulled a U-Turn and got back on the freeway did I finally believe him that it was an accident. I was glad he didn’t stop. Don’t get me wrong, kissing Tim, at that point, was high on my priority list, but I didn’t know him nearly well enough for kissing in a car with nobody around.

We eventually made it to my apartment, and Timothy walked me to the door. There was that little bit of nonsense of my teaching him how to butterfly kiss but no need to embarrass myself by getting into that. Suffice it to say, I did not want to see him leave. Leave he inevitably did.

It wasn’t until a few hours later that I realized he didn’t have my phone number.