S C O T T

"Connor," I said, walking out of my room. I bit my lip and awkwardly adjusted my white button-up before walking into the living room, "does this look all right?"

Connor grinned at me and nodded, flashing a thumbs-up, "Aw, are you nervous for your date?"

"It's not a date," I snapped, pulling my belt off my shoulder and pulling it on quickly. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed, pushing it to the side, "I don't think it's a date," Connor quirked an eyebrow and I groaned, "I don't fucking know what 'hang out' - " I used air-quotes for that, "- means."

Connor shrugged and I glared, dropping down on the edge of the couch and grabbing my gray shoes. Truthfully, I didn't know what tonight was. Jay had said hang out, but before that, he asked me if I asked Elle on a date. And the way Jay said it definitely didn't just casually sound like hanging out. When Elle and I hung out, it usually just meant hockey and going to Timmies or something.

Tonight wasn't going to be just that.

When I told Connor my original plan (to just take her out for pizza or something), he basically had a fit and told me that was unacceptable. So, for the next half-hour, we spent planning what he deemed an amazing, 'maybe-but-not-sure-date' that Elle was going to love. Or, at least Connor said she was going to love it.

"Am I supposed to get flowers?" I muttered, awkwardly pulling on the collar of my shirt, "I bet I'm too dressed up - fuck. I hate Jay."

Connor smirked and pulled a chair from the kitchen, dropping it down in front of me. Con sat down and crossed his arms, and I looked up at him, quirking one eyebrow. All day Connor had been chasing Miguel around (he hated all of his toys), and now I was curious for what he was gonna say.

"Time for a pep-talk."

I shook my head, "No way. Your pep-talks are the fuc - "

"Scott, I'm trying to be a good and supportive friend, but it doesn't really work when you don't shut up," I snorted and held up my hands, and Connor nodded approvingly, "if it is a date, then that's great. You look all right - the matching belt and shoes is kind of weird - but other than that, you look great! You'll go out there and knock Elle's socks off."

My lips quirked into a smile and I nodded, "Okay - "

"But if it's not a date," Connor started again, cutting me off again, "then you'll probably look like an idiot. But, hey - you'll look like a well-dressed idiot!"

I shot Connor a dry look, his 'pep-talk' not really helping anything, "You're the worst friend in the world."

Connor grinned at me, "The worst best friend in the world."

Despite Connor's pep-talk, I was still nervous about what tonight was. I didn't know what it was, and I didn't know what Elle thought tonight was. What if I thought it was just hanging out, but she thought it was a date? Or what if I thought it was a date, and she thought it was the opposite? It wasn't like I could ask her what she thought tonight was, either, because then I'd sound like an idiot.

I groaned again and let my head fall back against the couch. I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes, pushing anyway all my nervous thoughts for tonight. Despite the fact that I didn't know what to classify tonight as, I was determined to make it fun.

Connor poked my shoulder and I slowly opened up my eyes. Con leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, shooting me an amused look. I knew exactly why he looked so amused: he was getting a kick out of seeing me all awkward and confused. He lived for any moment he could use to embarrass me.

"Do you want this to be a date?" he asked, ruffling up his hair and shooting me a questioning look.

I thought over that for a minute. Did I like Elle? Yeah, of course I did. She was nice (mostly), definitely attractive, funny, and had proven to be a good person to spend time with. And I definitely didn't mind the fact that she almost kissed me. But did I like her like that? In the way that meant I wanted this to be a date?

Before I could answer, my phone vibrated. I frowned and pulled it out of my pocket, quicking unlocking it and clicking on my messages.

From Jay:

have fun on your DATE!

I rolled my eyes and went to shove my phone in my pocket, but then I saw the time: six. I was supposed to pick up Elle in five minutes! Cursing, I stood up quickly and grabbed my keys and wallet off the table, shoving them both in my pockets. I groaned for the third time in a span of thirty minutes and practically bolted out the door.

Connor shouted out an encouraging, 'don't fuck up!' and I just flipped him off before sprinting into the elevator. I ran across the lobby and got into my car quickly, turning it on and shoving some of the trash under the seats. I huffed in annoyance and pulled out of the parking lot, one hand firmly holding onto the steering wheel, the other throwing trash wrappers into the back-seat.

The drive to Elle's was quick (thank God most of the rush-hour traffic had finished), and I quickly pulled up in front of her house. Her dad wasn't home, and Elle promised that it would be fine if I parked out front. I was still nervous that her dad would see me and kill me.

I texted Elle and she walked out, grinning at me as she walked down the stairs. Opening the passenger side, Elle slipped into the seat and I couldn't help but grin right back at her.

Her blonde hair was curly, and she wasn't dressed too formal, which made me breathe out a sigh of relief. She was in skinny jeans and this light-colored sweater that worked well with her pale skin. I didn't know how to describe Elle, but she just looked really, really good.

"Fancy," Elle smirked, leaning back in her seat and rolling the sleeves of her sweater up a bit, "so, what's the plan for tonight?"

I frown, wishing Elle had elaborated more. I wish she would've said, 'what's the plan for hanging out tonight?' or, 'what's the plan for the date tonight?' But instead she had to go simple and opt to just ask what the plan was for tonight.

I shook my head and turned off her street, "Dinner," I stated, and she quirked an eyebrow at me, "and, you know, more. But the rest is a surprise."

Elle nodded and grinned at me, bumping out shoulders when I pulled to a stop at the light, "I'm ready for.. tonight."

"Right," I agreed, attempting to shoot her a grin. But it didn't really work because, truthfully, I wasn't ready at all for whatever the hell tonight was.

An hour and a half later, and Elle and I were making our way down the busy streets of downtown Toronto.

Dinner had started out awkward, but we easily moved into conversations. We started with making fun of the way our waitress walked (her heels were so high I was surprised her head didn't go through the roof), and then shifted to laughing at the couple next to us who were clearly on their first date. I busted out laughing when the guy spilled his drink on the girl, and then Elle and I were practically rolling on the floor with laughter.

We had ended the dinner talking about tomorrow's try-outs, and now we were walking towards the subway at the corner. I hadn't told Elle where we were going, but there was really only one reason to take the subway. Even if she knew where we were going, though, Elle didn't bother saying anything.

We walked down the stairs into the subway and I wrinkled my nose at the smell. Elle grinned at me and I laughed, bumping my shoulder with hers and standing on the platform as we waited for it to come. I un-buttoned the first couple of buttons on my shirt and ran a hand through my hair, the sticky air getting annoying quickly.

The subway came and Elle and I got on quickly, both of us holding onto the pole. She leaned against her pole and grinned, causing me to just grin right back at her. We had done that a lot tonight; just grinned and laughed at each other, even if nothing was really that funny.

"Scott," Elle said, biting her lip to keep from laughing, "you, um.. you might want to move your foot."

I frowned and looked down, reluctantly lifting up my foot. Right under where I was standing, I saw a disgusting pile of gum; it wasn't even one piece of gum, but just tons stacked on top of each other, and the bottom of my shoes had been on top of that.

"Damn it," I whined, holding on to the pole tightly and awkwardly lifting my leg to see the bottom of my shoe, which was - yep, covered in gum. I looked up at Elle and shot her an innocent look, "want to switch shoes?"

"Oh, definitely not," Elle shot back immediately, a teasing smile taking place on her face, "gray isn't my color."

I smirked, shooting her a cheeky look, "I don't think it would look too bad."

"You sure know how to boost someone's confidence," Elle snickered and I laughed, cheeks flushing lightly, "plus, your shoes smell awful. I can practically smell their stench from here."

Before I got a chance to defend my feet - and their smell - the subway came to a stop. Elle and I got off quickly and jogged up the stairs, ending up on the sidewalk.

Before us was the harbor, a huge area of water. The harbor was one of my favorite parts of Toronto; there were always people leaning on the railings by the water, or just laying on blankets on the grass. To the right, there was a small stage with a group of teenagers singing on it. I laughed and looked around, seeing the sun setting right on the water. Perfect timing.

Elle and I started making our way over to the railing and she shivered, pulling the sleeves of her sweater down further, "It's cold."

That would've been the perfect time for me to pull off my jacket and give it to her. But there were two problems: one, being, I wasn't even wearing a jacket. And two, if I was, I would've been freezing my own ass off if I gave it to Elle. So I did the only thing I thought of.

I wrapped my arm around Elle's shoulders and pulled her against me.

We both stopped, and for a minute I wondered if I had done too much. But Elle just grinned up at me, leaned her head against my chest, and we started walking forward again. I grinned and stopped in front of the railing, looking out at the harbor.

No matter how cheesy it sounded, the harbor at sunset was amazing. The sun made the water glow in hues of orange and red and purples, and there was honestly nothing better than the sight. Just looking at the water and the sky, and seeing everyone smiling and laughing around you; it managed to make any worries disappear.

After a few minutes of standing and staring, I disentangled my arm from around Elle's shoulders. I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her from the railing, "One more surprise," I said, gently pushing her forward and leading her through the crowd, "be prepared to try the best thing in the world."

"Best?" Elle asked, allowing herself to go in the direction I directed her towards, "This better be the best, best thing I've ever tried, Scott."

"You won't be disappointed," I promised, stopping Elle.

"I'd hope not," she leaned her head back and grinned at me, green eyes sparkling in amusement, "or I might have to throw you in the harbor."

"Ouch," I smirked, taking my hands off her shoulders, "no peeking." before Elle could question me, I put one hand over her eyes. She scoffed and I laughed, putting one hand on her shoulder and turning her to the left, "Open."

Elle sighed, "Scott, your hand is still over my eyes."

"Right," I flushed and awkwardly dropped my hand from her eyes, pulling it back to my side, "well, um, here you are."

In front of us was my favorite ice-cream parlor, and half the reason I loved to come to the harbor. Elle laughed and I practically sprinted towards the shop, motioning her to follow me. Elle grinned and I held open the door, ushering her inside before walking up to the counter.

We each ordered quickly and went back out, choosing to sit at one of the tables out front of the parlor. Elle had gotten vanilla (I told her how boring of a flavor that was), and I got peanut butter. (To which she said was gross). And now we just sat there, grinning and looking out at the water.

"Did you know vanilla is the most hated flavor in the world?" I asked, cocking my head to the side in amusement.

Elle rolled her eyes, "Says who?"

"Me."

"You're an idiot," Elle said, but I knew she wasn't being serious. She was still grinning way too widely, "so I'm not counting your opinion for this."

"Hurtful," I laughed, pulling a fake hurt expression and putting a hand over my heart, "but seriously, just try it. If you don't, there's a fairly good chance I might cry because you hurt my feelings so much."

"Fine."

I grinned and shoved my ice-cream cone forward, not bothering to notice that Elle had been leaning forward at the same time. I watched in horror as the ice-cream on top of my cone smashed against her lips and nose, sinking against her face. My eyes went wide and I hastily pulled back, staring at Elle in shock.

She just stared back at me, and, slowly, my eyes dropped down to her lips. They were covered in ice-cream, but she was still grinning. I slowly leaned forward, raising my eyes to meet Elle's.

"Scott?" she asked, and I hummed in response, "You've got something on your face."

"What - " I started, but was cut off by Elle leaning forward and shoving her ice-cream cone against my lips. I yelped and clamped my eyes shut, feeling the ice-cream drip down my face. I slowly opened back up my eyes and glared at Elle, "you've asked for it."

Then we kind of ended up in an ice-cream fight in front of the parlor. But, honestly, my eyes stayed lock on her lips.