Chapter 4: First Date, First Kiss
March 3rd, 2014
Josiah stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection like it might suddenly betray him.
"Fuck," he thought. I hope I don't look stupid.
He leaned closer, tilting his head side to side. His hair was doing that annoying thing where it looked fine from one angle and awful from another. He ran his fingers through it, then immediately regretted it.
Today was his fourteenth birthday.
He was officially a high school freshman now, which felt fake, like a title someone gave him before he earned it. And tonight—somehow—he was going on a date.
With Amaya.
A girl he'd known forever. A girl who used to sit on the arm of his couch and listen to him play guitar. A girl who laughed at his jokes, stole his fries, and pretended not to notice when he got quieter around her.
A girl he liked.
Really liked.
The bathroom door creaked open, and small footsteps padded past. A little girl—three years old, blonde curls bouncing—walked by, clutching a Barbie doll with one arm and dragging a plastic tea set with the other.
"Hey, Hayley," Josiah said, forcing his voice to sound normal. "Having fun?"
Hayley nodded seriously, like she had very important business to attend to, and kept walking without another word.
Josiah smiled despite himself.
His mom had adopted Hayley with Alyssa two years ago. It still felt weird sometimes—being the older brother all of a sudden—but in a good way. Hayley treated him like a personal jungle gym and an emotional support pillow.
From the hallway, he heard whispering.
"…those jeans are way too faded."
"That hair looks messy."
"No, not messy—intentional messy. That's worse."
Josiah groaned. "I can hear you, you know."
His mom leaned into the bathroom doorway, arms crossed, assessing him like a project. Alyssa hovered just behind her, sipping coffee and smirking.
"We're helping," his mom said.
"You look fine," Alyssa added immediately. "But also—you could look better."
"My jeans are fine," Josiah said defensively.
"They look like you've been rolling around on the sidewalk," Alyssa replied.
"They're vintage."
His mom stepped closer and straightened his collar. "Your hair looks like you tried too hard not to try."
"I literally didn't try."
"Exactly."
He sighed and let them fuss. Honestly, he didn't mind. It was annoying, sure, but it was also comforting—like they were nervous for him.
By the time the clock hit 4:00 p.m., Josiah felt like a completely different person. Cleaner. Slightly more confident.
Still terrified.
They piled into the car, Hayley buckled into her booster seat with a juice box, humming to herself. Amaya was already waiting outside when they pulled up to her house, wearing a denim jacket and smiling like she always did—easy and familiar and somehow different today.
"Hey," she said, sliding into the backseat next to him.
"Hey," he replied, his heart immediately trying to escape his chest.
Dave & Buster's was loud, bright, and chaotic, which helped. It was hard to be awkward when everything around you was flashing and buzzing and demanding attention.
Alyssa and his mom dropped them off near the entrance.
"We'll be around," Alyssa said casually. "Playing games. Not watching you."
"We are absolutely watching you," his mom added.
"Mom."
She laughed. "Relax. Have fun."
They played everything—air hockey, racing games, basketball hoops. Amaya was way more competitive than he remembered, trash-talking him nonstop while somehow still laughing the entire time.
"You're cheating," he accused as she beat his high score.
"I'm just better," she said sweetly.
While waiting for a machine to reset, she nudged him with her shoulder. "Happy birthday, by the way."
"Oh. Yeah. Thanks."
She smiled. "Fourteen's a big deal."
"Is it?"
"Kind of," she said. "Feels like stuff changes around now."
He nodded. He felt it too—that shift, like something was moving forward whether he was ready or not.
After greasy fries and shared milkshakes, they wandered outside to the quieter area near the entrance. The noise faded behind them, replaced by distant traffic and cool evening air.
They stood there awkwardly.
"So…" Amaya rocked slightly on her heels. "This is a date, right?"
Josiah swallowed. "Yeah. I mean. I hope so."
She smiled. "Good. Because I was kind of hoping you'd kiss me."
His brain short-circuited.
"Oh," he said.
She stepped closer.
Josiah didn't think. He just leaned in.
Their lips met brief, clumsy, soft. Not perfect. Not cinematic. But real.
When they pulled back, both of them were smiling.
"Wow," Amaya said. "You're bad at that."
He laughed, relieved. "You're not exactly amazing either."
"Rude."
They stood there for a moment longer, hands brushing, neither of them rushing away.
Inside, the world kept buzzing.
But for Josiah, everything felt quiet and proper.
He kissed her again, this time a little longer, copying things he'd seen in movies and elsewhere. Nothing complicated—just intense and careful. She smiled under the kiss, then he pulled back, suddenly shy again.
They sat at a table afterward, ordered more food, talked about school, teachers, and random nonsense. At one point, they both laughed as Hayley sprinted past one of the arcade games faster than he'd ever seen her move.
Later, Josiah asked, almost casually, "So… I heard you got the central part for the Romeo and Juliet play. That's amazing."
Amaya stared at him, smiling. "What, are you stalking me? I literally found out like two hours ago."
She laughed, then shrugged. "I got it for now. Technically there's still two more days of auditions, but Miss Cortez said we're moving forward like it's mine."
She pointed at him. "So don't jinx me."
"I wouldn't dare," he said.
Three hours later, they hugged goodbye. He watched her go inside, then climbed back into the car.
At home, his mom and Alyssa immediately started asking questions.
"How was it?"
"Did you have fun?"
"Did you kiss?"
"Why ask," Josiah said, heading toward his room, "I know you were watching."
They laughed.
Later that night, he sat at his desk with his guitar.
Something felt different.
He started writing a song—his first original. He didn't plan it. It just… flowed out of him.
Three days later, Jason and Cory were in his room. Jason held the camera. Cory adjusted the audio, making sure everything sounded right.
Josiah sat in front of the camera, took a breath, and started singing.
🎵🎵"You're insecure
Don't know what for
You're turning heads when you walk through the door
Don't need make-up
To cover up
Being the way that you are is enough
Everyone else in the room can see it
Everyone else but you
Baby you light up my world like nobody else
The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed
But when you smile at the ground it ain't hard to tell
You don't know
Oh, oh
You don't know you're beautiful
If only you saw what I can see
You'd understand why I want you so desperately
Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe
You don't know
Oh, oh
You don't know you're beautiful
Oh, oh
That's what makes you beautiful"🎵🎵
The room was quiet when he finished.
Not the awkward kind—just still.
Jason was the first to move, lowering the camera slowly. "Dude," he said. "What the hell was that?"
Cory glanced up from the laptop, eyebrows raised. "You wrote that?"
Josiah shrugged, suddenly very aware of his hands. "Yeah. I mean… mostly. All of it, I guess."
Jason let out a short laugh. "That's not a guess kind of song."
Cory rewound a bit, listening again through the speakers. "You know this is good, right?"
Josiah didn't answer. He wasn't thinking about good or bad. He was thinking about Amaya—about the way she smiled when she looked down, like she didn't realize people were watching her. About how easy it felt to sit next to her and how terrifying it felt to want more.
"Who's it about?" Jason asked, even though his tone said he already knew.
"No one," Josiah said too fast.
They both stared at him.
"…Okay, someone," he admitted.
Cory grinned. "Yeah. We figured."
They uploaded the video later that night. Nothing fancy. Just him, the guitar, the song. Josiah didn't think much of it—he half-expected it to disappear into the internet like everything else.
It didn't.
The next morning at school, Jason caught up to him in the hallway, eyes wide. "Bro. Check the views."
Josiah pulled out his phone. His stomach dropped.
Comments. Likes. Shares.
People he didn't even know were talking about his song.
At lunch, Amaya slid into the seat across from him, holding her phone.
"So," she said carefully, like she was handling something fragile. "Is this about me?"
Josiah froze.
"I—" He laughed nervously. "What? No. I mean. Maybe. I don't know."
She smiled. Not embarrassed. Not weirded out.
Just soft.
"Well," she said, "if it is… it's really pretty."
That feeling came back—the quiet one. The sense that something had shifted and wasn't going back.
Josiah nodded. "Thanks."
He didn't know it yet, but that song was the first crack in a door that was about to fly wide open.