Reasons That My High School Boyfriend Might Kick My Middle School Crush’s Ass

When I walked into the restaurant, there was no hostess to seat me and I didn’t see my friends.  It was my first time in this restaurant, and I felt adolescence awkwardness washing over me as I scanned the room in vain for Hatice and Mary—the two high school friends I was meeting.

I saw his mother standing towards the back of the restaurant and to my horror, she saw me too.  Immediately, she started walking towards me.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?,” she asked.

“Yes, I went to high school with your son, Nick,” I answered.

At that moment, I saw Hatice stand up at a table in the back and start waving to get my attention.  I turned my gaze away from Nick’s mother to acknowledge Hatice, but Nick’s mother continued.

“Your last name is Stethoscope,” she correctly identified. “You know, Nicolas is here tonight.”

I don’t know how I responded, or maybe she realized that my friends were waiting, because we parted ways, after a general acknowledgement that Nick was there…and could descend on me at any moment.

--

When I told The Lawyer that I thought Nick had opened a restaurant in our hometown, he immediately started teasing me.  Such is the consequence of revealing your middle school crush to a boyfriend who went to the same school.

“Try not to get all flustered when you see him,” The Lawyer had teased.

“Shut up!,” I had feigned outrage at him.

In all seriousness, though, I had no intention of eating at Nick’s restaurant and subjecting myself to the awkward, blushy feeling that his presence inflicted from grades 7-10.

I mean, not only was I the over-achieving nerd with thick glasses, but my father was the assistant principal in middle school.  If ever there was a girl that you wouldn’t want to be openly crushing on you and ruining any hope you ever had at coolness, it was me. 

Somehow, miraculously, though, the tables turned a little bit in high school.  I got contacts and braces, Nick gained a little weight, and we were…friendly. 

In fact, during senior year, one of my friends told me—as we were walking to class from the parking lot one morning—that she was convinced that Nick was going to ask me to homecoming.  I can’t remember what events could have prompted this statement from her, but I do remember replying with glee and smugness, “I know!”

Little did I know that a mere five minutes later, I would walk into class and overhear Michelle Montague talking about going to homecoming with Nick.  Knowing that she could be referencing my Nick, I preemptively self-soothed while covertly eavesdropping for confirmation.

“We’re not going in Nick’s Impala, though, because it’s having the stereo system put in the same weekend,” she continued.

Although there were four or five Nicks in the school, only my Nick was the one with a brand new, 2000 Chevy Impala that he parked across from me in the senior parking lot.  I couldn’t believe that that heifer Michelle Montague was apparently going to homecoming with him!

I brooded over how much I hated Michelle all day, but of course, Nick strolled right over to me that afternoon after school, as if everything was totally fine.

My car door was already half open when he reached me.

“So, are you going to homecoming this weekend?,” he asked.

“No,” I replied coldly.

“Why not?,” he prodded, as I stood with the car door ajar—a barrier between us.

“I’m busy. I have stuff to do,” I said vaguely.

“Why don’t you come?,” Nick asked softly, almost pleadingly.

I wanted to punch him.

“Why do you care Nick? Is it going to ruin your whole night if I’m not there?,” I blurted out.

Then, the unexpected.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

Turning the key to the ignition and hitting the volume button so my stereo would blare with dramatic emphasis, I slammed the car door and shouted, “Whatever, Nick. You’ll get over it!”

Of course I glanced in the rearview mirror as I drove away—as every scorned woman should—and much to my delight, Nick was standing there totally stunned.  It was both as histrionic and satisfying I’d hoped it was.

--

Now, over a decade later, I was sitting with some of those same childhood friends in a restaurant that Nick owned.

It wasn’t until we decided to split a bottle of wine that Nick made his appearance, though.

The waitress returned with the bottle, and Nick was behind her with the chiller.  When he saw me, he exclaimed, seemingly with surprise,

“Red!”

I faked coolness in that very subtle way I aspired to, but never achieved, in high school.

“Are you here now?,” he asked, almost tripping over his words.

I presumed he meant “living here,” so I answered,

“No, I’m just in town for Thanksgiving…”

Noticing that he hadn’t even acknowledged the two other women at the table who were part of his graduating class, much less their spouses and a baby, I continued,

“But these guys live here!”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, barely looking them. “So…”

He had an eagerness about him, but now was not the time.  Before he could continue, I cut him off and asked what he would recommend for dinner.  

Now he was the one who was clearly flustered, and following my lead, the entire table was shouting the names of entrees at him.

“Chicken cacciatore? Eggplant parmesan? Minestrone soup?”

He answered our questions flatly, and I settled on the lasagna that he said he’d eaten for lunch that day.  He didn’t return to our table for the rest of the evening, and even when the bills were delivered, he was nowhere to be seen.

As we got up to leave, though, he made a sly reappearance.

“So, where are you living now?,” he asked, approaching the group again.

“Washington, DC.”

“What are you doing there?”

“I’m in medical school.”

“Still?,” he blurted out, somewhat bluntly.

(Well-played, Nick. Well-played.)

As we continued talking, my friends said something about The Lawyer.

“I’m dating a guy we went to high school with,” I told Nick, trying to include him in the conversation. “We even used to ride the same school bus in middle school!”

“Oh…congratulations…,” Nick said blankly.

(Are nuptials and childbirths no longer prerequisites for praise? Dating is enough?)

“Umm…thanks,” I replied with confusion.

Nick clearly wanted to catch up, but at this point, Hatice’s baby was crying and Mary looked uncomfortable standing  in the middle of the restaurant. They said they were going to head out, and suddenly, Nick and I were standing there alone.

It was the 7^th grade all over again, except this time the boy wanted to talk to me.

We talked for several more minutes and I told Nick that I’d recommend his restaurant to my mother and her girlfriends.

“Hey, bring her in!  You’re here until next week! Why don’t you come back in again?,” he suggested a bit too cheerily.

Sadly, I decided that I will not be making a reappearance, even though I really did point out Nick's restaurant to my mother.

I can only hope that Hatice and Mary don’t remember our high school crushing (but I’m sure they do), lest Mary’s suggestion to eat at Nick’s restaurant repeat itself at Christmas.  Even if it does, the memories of high school drama are probably far more entertaining.  That is, until Nick crosses the line by offering me free dessert and dinner elsewhere and then a certain lawyer has to swoop in and get all hand-to-hand combat and “Step BACK, son!  I'll key your Impala!” 

But, that probably won't happen, because the nerdy, sweet boy who rode the same bus and grew up to be a lawyer is the one who got the girl.