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For the first time in her life, Elle Woods was way out of her league. She was just asked to go to dinner by a man. She was asked to go to dinner with Emmett Forrest. But not as a date — just dinner. This was new. This was foreign. She wasn't quite sure how she was supposed to navigate this. A few hours before their regularly scheduled Friday night study session, Emmett had called and proposed for the pair to get dinner at a little place in Boston. He swore that their food kept him well-fed during the late nights. Excited, Elle agreed, but the moment he hung up, she realized a grave mistake in her riled up fervor — she had two hours to prepare.
To the average person, the distinction was miniscule — downright nonexistent. Dinner, date. To may to, to mah to. But to Elle? The devil was always in the details with her. Everything had to be precisely laid out so she could be entirely and truly sure of the situation at hand. She wouldn't tell anyone outright, but even though she was way over the fact, she still had major PTSD from Warner's not-a-proposal dinner. So, when Emmett asked her if she'd "get dinner before the study session tonight", she was certain that it was simply dinner. Nothing more, nothing less.
Unfortunately for Elle, she was a woman of routine. Even if it wasn't a date she was getting ready for, she still had to get ready. It wasn't her fault that her pre-date ritual was a surefire method — meticulously choosing an outfit many hours prior, spending another in the bathroom doing hair and makeup, and being fashionably late to keep one's date waiting.
Usually, the next step would be to order the daintiest meal possible at one of three high-end gourmet restaurants in the date rotation. Then, if all went as exactly and mundanely as they always do, her date would lend her his coat on the walk back to the car. It was boringly simple yet perfectly concise, always ensuring a second date (even if she loathed the idea of going through something so dull one more time under the guise of courting).
The plan particularly worked best if she kept a mysterious allure to the men she would meet. Most of her first dates were typically frat guys she would meet at parties and she'd entertain for the fun of it. They knew nothing about her, but that was all in keeping up the hotness of the unknown. Only after a very good first date would she reveal the most important parts of her true identity – her love for pop rock and all day breakfast.
(In honesty, Warner never achieved a good first date. Or a second date. Or a third date. Or frankly, any good date at all. Having matured from that relationship, Elle realized dates with him were never dull because he always caused a scene with the waiters about tipping. She mostly tried to block that memory out of her head due to the secondhand embarrassment it still gave her.)
In her self deliberation of date versus dinner, she had fully lost track of time. Now with only an hour before Emmett was supposed to pick her up, she began to tear her closet apart looking for the perfect outfit. She scoured up her nicest pair of flared jeans, and well as a pink cashmere sweater that helped brave the New England cold. She nearly strangled herself trying to rip the tag off of it because it was still new. Then, she used a whole can of dry shampoo which left her increasingly worried that an RA would check in on her at an inopportune moment for using flammable goods. She had just barely gotten away with her curling iron set and she wasn't taking chances. Not having enough time for makeup, she quickly chugged a Red Bull in hopes the adrenaline would muster a rosy tint on her cheeks. Hearing her stomach start to rumble, she quickly closed up shop in her dorm, not before leaving the television on for Bruiser to watch. With only a few minutes to spare, she was out the door and in the lobby of her dorms.
It was then she realized that in some abridged way, she still stuck to her pre-date ritual, while simultaneously going against everything that the ritual stood for — all without the explicit distinction that it was a date. And judging by how loudly her stomach grumbled at her, she suspected that a tiny salad wasn't going to satisfy her hunger.
While she argued with herself in her head over making what could have been a fatal, relationship ending mistake over an assumption of intentions behind date/dinner plans, Emmett walked through the doors of the dorm lobby entrance. The sight he walked in on gave him a chuckle that only seemed to come out around Elle. The woman was sitting on a bench, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she connected points onto an imaginary pin board.
"What seems to be plaguing the mind of little Miss Woods comma Elle, hm?" he asked, sliding into the empty spot next to her. "And say, you look great. I like that sweater. It really suits you. Is it new?"
"Oh, Em! I didn't even see you walk in!" she replied, coming back to her senses. "And thank you! Yeah, this is new. It's really soft and so far is doing really good at keeping me warm."
She was pleasantly surprised, dare even flustered that he noticed such a tiny detail of her appearance. On explicitly mentioned dates, she would have to try her hardest for her date to notice anything about her. As much as she hated to remind herself of it, she recalled the night she thought Warner was going to propose. She was wearing a brand new dress that was arguably one of her nicest date dresses, and he didn't even notice it.
"Warm enough to brace a sudden flurry?" he said, breaking her out of her train of thought. She looked out the window, seeing an onslaught of snow fluttering to the ground. Sighing in defeat, she was about to go back to her room and get a coat, but Emmett grabbed her by the hand before she could even turn around.
"Hey, I'm pretty sure I've got an extra jacket or something in my car. Take mine first." And with that, he slipped his arms out of his brown corduroy blazer and draped it over her shoulders. She couldn't help but notice that underneath, he was wearing a forest green sweater with the collar of a white button-down peaking out, of which she found on one of her shopping expenditures and decided it would be criminal for him not to have it. "It's no signature pink, but hopefully it's enough for Elle Woods to get to and from the car?"
She laughed, and graciously hugged the coat closer to her chest as he kept one arm around her shoulders and his hand over her head so the snow wouldn't ruin her hair. She felt the soft chenille of his sleeve against her neck, which sent a shiver down her spine. He took this as a sign to quicken the pace so they would sooner get to the heated vehicle.
After opening the passenger seat door for her and making sure she was settled in her seat, Emmett swiftly put his keys into the car, revving it up slightly to generate heat. His beat up radio sputtered to life, playing a pop music station. They began to drive in peaceful silence, until Elle heard a soft humming coming from the driver's seat.
"Emmett Forrest!" she retorted, slapping his arm. "You're humming Britney Spears!" At that, the teen pop star's voice came garbling out the speakers.
"Well, you're always playing her songs, so it would be weirder if I didn't recognize her stuff. Don't tell her, but I burned a bunch of her songs and other stuff I thought you'd like onto a CD so I could play it when you were in the car with me," Emmett said, as if it were the most casual thing in the whole world.
"What? I thought this was the radio! You made me a personalized playlist? That is the coolest thing anyone's done for me, ever!!" Elle gushed, the pop star's hit fading out and slowly transitioning to another Elle classic. A familiar beat kicked in as the bass began to shake the car a little, but that was quickly ignored by the lyrics of the new song immediately playing on the speakers.
"Sun's up, a little after twelve, make breakfast for myself," Emmett sang under his breath, expertly weaving through Bostonian traffic. It was almost infuriating how easily he navigated the chaos on the roads even in the flurry of snow. And the cherry on top? He only had one hand on the wheel, because he was just that good at driving through Boston.
" Perfect Day by Hoku? As in my personal theme song? How did you even know that was my favorite song? I never play it during study sessions or I'll have to stop whatever I'm doing and dance to it!" Elle squealed, grabbing onto Emmett's arm that was annoyingly (and attractively) rested on the stick shift.
"I wish I could take credit, but I only heard it on the radio a couple weeks ago. It reminded me of you so figured it was worth adding to the Elle Woods setlist," the man shrugged nonchalantly, eyes on the road while still maintaining full conversation with his passenger.
Elle couldn't say anything, but could only grin wildly, sinking deeper into the cracking leather of the passenger seat. She took a deep breath, and immediately she took in the smell of Dove soap, the citrusy woody smell of Calvin Klein's Subtext , and dark roast coffee, and realized she still had Emmett's brown corduroy blazer on. The drive continued on in silence, save for Elle's favorite songs serving as the soundtrack for the rest of the journey and Emmett drumming his fingers along on the steering wheel, clearly having played this CD on his own time.
(Elle couldn't make out the feeling of butterflies in her stomach as Emmett gravelly whisper-sang Wannabe by the Spice Girls as he parallel parked with his arm stretched across the back of her seat.)
Emmett got out of the car and opened the passenger side door, extending a hand to Elle. ("The sidewalk here is really icy and I wouldn't want you to slip," he said, taking her gently by the hand and guiding her towards the dry pavement.) She slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow, the two walking in matched steps until they found themselves under a diner's sign, basking in a blue led glow.
"This Elle, is South Street Diner — mecca for tired college students and hungover party-goers alike. And arguably the best frappes in the greater Boston area, but that's just me talking," Emmett presented proudly, beaming bright. It was no upscale dining institution on Newbury Street, like ones she was used to for a first date, but somehow she knew she was going to have a significantly better time and smiled up at the glowing sign.
She ordered Boston cream pancakes and an ice-cream soda, and he, a breakfast burrito with a root beer float. Miraculously, without pissing any of the employees or other late night patrons off, they joked and bantered, plans of a study session forgone. Once their stomachs were full, Emmett paid the bill, despite Elle's protests to take it on, and he even tipped extra for the ruckus they caused.
(What neither of them knew was that the diner's population couldn't help but look fondly on the couple's nonsensical bickering, and seemed slightly sadder once they asked for the check and left.)
They drove back to North Hall, blasting Destiny's Child and P!NK, singing on the way to Elle's. She continued to disregard the fluttering feeling, now in her chest, as Emmett knew all the words to her favorite songs. He walked her back to the lobby and up to her dorm, apologizing to the security guard for getting her home so late, who could only smirk in response. They stopped in front of her private suite room, and Emmett smiled softly at the hot pink pennant nametag Elle made for her door.
"Thank you so much for dinner, Em. I'm sorry we lost track of time and ended up having to get back so late. And we didn't even get to study!" Elle said remorsefully, a pout high on her cheeks.
"No big deal, Doc. You've been working extra hard lately, so maybe this was the universe saying you deserved to take a break," he replied, sporting a comforting grin that always seemed to make Elle feel better.
"Are you sure you don't want to sleep over? I'd hate for you to have to drive all the way back to Roxbury in this weather,"
"I would, but I feel as though that would be a little forward for the first date,"
Elle froze in place, processing the exact vocabulary Emmett had just used.
"Emmett Forrest?" she asked tentatively.
"Yes, Miss Woods comma Elle?"
"Did you, by chance, sneakily imply that what we just went on tonight was a date ?"
"If by 'sneakily imply', you mean outright say, then yes I did."
And if Elle pulled Emmett into her room by the collar of his shirt and kissed him senseless for the rest of the night, that was none of her floormates or RA's business.
(It was safe to say they continued to have wonderful dates all over the city, and Elle was frenzied to get ready for them each and every time.)