Date: September 5, 1990 (Wednesday).
Location: The Cooper Residence / Highland Park Pharmacy (Soda Fountain).
Event: The First Real Date.
Part 1: The Logistics of Romance
Winning a football game in Texas is complicated. Dating a socialite in Texas is terrifying.
It was Wednesday night. We were three days past the Jesuit game (a sloppy win) and two days away from the Carter game (a physical nightmare). My ribs still throbbed every time I laughed, which was Sheldon's fault because he had decided to learn the accordion.
I was in the kitchen, icing my side, when Meemaw walked in. She was wearing her "Casino Luck" visor.
"You look pathetic," Meemaw noted, grabbing a beer. "You walk like you're ninety. That's my job."
"I took a helmet to the ribs, Meemaw," I groaned.
"Well, toughen up," she said. "Serena called. Three times."
I froze. "She did?"
"She wants to know if you're alive," Meemaw said. "And she sounded annoyed. You know, for a boy who claims to be a 'King,' you treat your Queen like a sparring partner. When was the last time you took that girl out? And I don't mean to a pep rally or a booster event."
I thought about it.
We went to the Gala (political event).
We went to the Mall (group hangout with the Gellers).
We went to the games (work).
"I... haven't," I admitted.
Meemaw slapped the back of my head.
"Idiot," she said affectionately. "You lock that down, Moonpie. Before some senior with a convertible and functioning ribs sweeps her away. Take her to dinner. A real dinner. No football talk."
"I have film study," I protested.
"Film study can wait," Meemaw said. "Go call her. Or I'll call her and tell her you're crying in the kitchen."
***
Part 2: The Ask
I went to the phone in the hallway. I took a deep breath.
Why was I nervous? I had played in front of 15,000 people. I had negotiated multi-million dollar deals in my past life.
But calling Serena van der Woodsen felt like defusing a bomb.
I dialed.
"Hello?" Her voice was cool, calm.
"Hey," I said. "It's Georgie."
"Georgie," she said. There was a pause. "I assumed you were dead. Or that Larry Allen had eaten you."
"Funny," I said. "Look, I was thinking. We haven't really... you know. Done the official thing."
"The official thing?" she asked, amused.
"A date," I said. "Just us. No Recruits. No Sheldon. No football strategies. Friday is the Carter game, so I'm on lockdown tomorrow. But tonight? Are you free?"
Silence on the line.
"I have a History paper due," she lied. I knew she lied because Serena didn't do homework on Wednesdays; she did it on Sunday nights.
"Serena," I said.
"Fine," she sighed, but I could hear the smile in her voice. "Pick me up at 7:00. And Georgie?"
"Yeah?"
"Wear a shirt with a collar. My dad is home."
***
Part 3: The Spy Network
At 6:45 PM, I was dressed. Khakis, a polo shirt, and cologne that didn't smell like locker room.
I walked into the living room.
"Ooh la la," Mary cooed. "Look at my handsome man! Going to see Serena?"
"Yes, Mom," I said. "Please don't make a big deal out of it."
"I won't say a word," Mary promised.
"I will," Missy said from the couch. She was holding a pair of binoculars. "If you kiss her, try not to bump noses. It looks awkward on TV."
"I am not kissing anyone on TV, Missy," I said.
"Not yet," Missy grinned.
I looked at Sheldon. He was reading a book about Sub-Saharan irrigation tactics.
"Do you have any advice, Sheldon?" I asked sarcastically.
"Yes," Sheldon said without looking up. "The Highland Park Pharmacy serves a milkshake with a 12% butterfat content. It is statistically the most efficient way to induce dopamine production. If you wish to secure her affection, buy her a milkshake. Humans like sugar. It is a simple biological imperative."
"Thanks, Shelly," I said. "Actually... that's good advice."
I walked out the door.
I didn't notice Meemaw grabbing her keys.
I didn't notice Missy grabbing her disguise (a oversized sunglasses).
The Cooper Spy Network was active.
***
Part 4: The Date
I picked Serena up. Her dad, Mr. van der Woodsen, shook my hand at the door. He was a tall, imposing man who smelled like old money and scotch.
"Georgie," he said. "I hear you're playing Permian in a few weeks."
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Good luck," he said grimly. "Don't embarrass the zip code."
"We won't, sir."
We escaped to the **Highland Park Pharmacy**.
It was a classic soda fountain—black and white checkered floors, red vinyl stools, and the smell of grilled cheese. It was neutral ground. Not a country club. Just a diner.
We sat in a booth in the back.
I ordered a burger. She ordered a grilled cheese and a chocolate milkshake (Sheldon was right).
"So," Serena said, stirring her shake with a straw. "No football talk. That was the rule."
"Right," I said. "No football."
"So tell me," she said. "What does Georgie Cooper want? Besides a State Ring."
I looked at her. The question caught me off guard.
What did I want?
In my old life, I wanted money. I wanted respect. I wanted my tire store to be the biggest in Texas.
In this life?
"I want to build something," I said slowly. "Not just a team. A life. My dad... he works himself to death for other people's approval. My mom worries about what the neighbors think. I want to be the guy who sets the terms. I want to be the one who decides."
Serena watched me. Her blue eyes were sharp.
"Control," she said.
"Yeah," I admitted. "Control. I hate feeling helpless. When I was... younger (I almost said 'in my past life'), I felt like things just happened to me. Now? I want to make them happen."
She reached across the table and took my hand.
"I get that," she said softly. "My whole life is planned, Georgie. My school, my debutante ball, my college, my future husband. It's all written down in some book my mother keeps. Being with you? It's the first time I've gone off-script."
"I'm off-script?" I smiled.
"You're a plot twist," she laughed. "You're the Quarterback from East Texas who quotes business strategy and hangs out with linemen instead of socialites. You're weird. I like weird."
"Weird is good," I said. "Weird beats Permian."
"You broke the rule," she teased. "You mentioned Permian."
"Damn," I laughed. "Penalty on the play."
We ate in comfortable silence for a moment.
Then I saw them.
In the booth three rows down.
A woman with a massive hat and a little girl wearing sunglasses inside a diner.
Meemaw and Missy.
They were holding menus up, peering over the top.
Missy gave me a thumbs up.
I sighed.
"Don't turn around," I whispered to Serena.
"Why?"
"My grandmother and sister are spying on us. Three o'clock."
Serena didn't turn. She just started laughing.
"Really?"
"Yeah. If I signal, Missy will probably launch a spitball."
Serena laughed harder. It was a genuine, loud laugh that made the old couple at the counter look over.
"Your family is insane," she said.
"I know," I said. "Run while you can."
She squeezed my hand.
"No," she said. "I think I'll stay. My family is boring. Yours is... entertaining."
***
Part 5: The Goodnight
I drove her home.
We stood on her front porch. The massive van der Woodsen mansion loomed behind us.
It felt like a scene from a John Hughes movie, minus the 80s pop soundtrack.
"Thanks for the burger," Serena said.
"Thanks for the milkshake advice," I said.
She stepped closer. I could smell her perfume—vanilla and jasmine.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
I had faced 300-pound linemen. I had stared down business rivals.
But kissing the Queen of Highland Park? That was pressure.
"So," she whispered. "Are we official now? Or do I need to sign a contract?"
"No contract," I said. "Just a handshake deal?"
"I don't shake hands, Cooper," she said.
She leaned in.
It wasn't a movie kiss. It wasn't fireworks and explosions.
It was soft. It was sweet. It tasted like chocolate milkshake.
It felt like... an anchor.
She pulled back, smiling.
"Go beat Carter," she said.
"Yes, ma'am," I whispered.
She went inside.
I walked back to my truck, floating.
I got in. I checked the rearview mirror.
Meemaw's car was parked down the street. Meemaw flashed her headlights at me.
I shook my head and started the engine.
I had the girl. I had the team.
Now I just had to survive the war.
[Quest Update: Official Business]
* Relationship Status: Locked In.
* Stress Levels: Reduced.
* Spy Network: Detected but Tolerated.
* Focus: 100%.
Next Stop: The Carter Game.
Then: The Desert.
[System Notification: 21 Days to Permian.]