He took me by the hand, and began to walk me up to my door. I cringed at his overly tight grip, and wiggled the tips of my fingers around, hoping to get a little bit of feeling back. It was pins and needles, but not the good pins and needles. Not the fire-works-and-bells pins and needles, the please-loosen-your-grip-before-I-have-to-amputate-my-hand pins and needles. He had been holding my hand like this all night. In the line for movie tickets, in the line for popcorn, through the entire movie, and then through the ride home, and I had about enough of his creepy, painful ways.

"Well, can I see you again?" He pulled a cheesy half grin over his face.

"You know what, I'll call you,okay Mark?" I tried to tug my hand away, and opened the door to my house.

"Are you sure? Cause I can call you, babe. I wouldn't want to spend a day away from you," Another sickly grin.

"Ah, no, that's okay. I'm sure I'm capable of calling you," With one more forceful, sharpe tug, I finally released my hand from his death grip, and mummbled to myself, "If my hand ever works again."

"Well, don't wait too long, okay? I don't think I can wait much longer for you, toots."

"Ah, yeah, whatever. Good bye. Mark," I said, before he grabbed my shirt and tugged me back from the heat of my house.

"No kissy-wissy?" He puckered up.

"Nope," I quickly dodged into my house and closed the door.

I groaned, and massaged my hand, kicked off my shoes, and stepped into my living room.
My Mom looked over her shoulder and smiled at me, "You're home early, Emily."

"Yeah, I am," I groaned again as I plopped down on the couch next to her.

"Didn't go good?" Mom asked, and offered me a cookie.

I took one, and cracked it up in my hand, "It was a lot worse then any date I've ever been on."

"Uh, that really doesn't sound good."

I looked up at my Mom, "You have no idea." I shuffed some crumbled cookie into my mouth and sighed, "I bet you never had any problem with boys when you were my age."

"And why do you say that? Do you think I had some crazy imuatie to adolsecent boy troubles?" Mom chuckled.

"Yeah, 'cause you were insanly beautiful." My Mom's high school pictures look like magazine covers. She had long curly blonde hair, that toppled under her breasts, perfect cheek bones, glassly blue eyes, and the cutest dimples that you'd ever seen. And even now, in her late thirties, she looked just as gorgeous. Me, on the other hand, looked a lot more like my Dad. I had his dark brown hair, that was cropped off to my chin, and tapered up the back, making for a very stylish, but odd cut. Short in back, longer in front. I also had his deep brown eyes, so dark that they almost look black.

"Me being beautiful has nothing to do with it. You're beautiful, too, Em." She squeezed my leg.

"Thanks Mom, but I think I'll just keep with my pervious beliefes." I sighed, yet again, and started to make my way upstairs to my room.

I flopped down on my bed, and grabbed my phone. I dialed my best friends number, and listened to the first few rings before she picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Amy."

"Oh, Em! How was the date?"

I chuckled. She wastes no time at all, "Actually, it was absolutly awful. He was awful."

"Seriously? I always thought Mark would be a great date," I could hear her flicking through the channels of her t.v.

"Then you are completely deliusional. He's the worst date ever," I groaned, "I think he broke my hand. He wouldn't let go of it for the whole date, and his idea of holding hands is squeezing until you loose feeling. And then you squeeze some more. And he even ate all loud and gross and he was snotty and obnoxious. AND he called me 'toots'. And wanted a kiss at the end. I can tell you that never happened."

"Wow. Sounds real gross," I could nearly picture my best friend since second grade scrunch up her face.

"It was." There was silence for a short while, "I mean, really. Isn't there a decent guy out there?"

"Ah, there have to be. You know that."

"But is there enough to go around for everybody?"

She giggled, "I hope, or we're going to have to share."

"Listen, I'm going to have to go. I have to go soak my hand in cold water."

Amy laughed again, "Way to over exargerate it."

I laughed, too, although I didn't really feel like it, "I know. I'm just going to go to bed or something. Try to forget that tonight actually happened."

"Okay then. Call me tomorrow?"

"Sure will. Good night."

"Night!"