I haven’t used the chopper here before, and when it used to pick me up in high school, my father would always have me take a car to a nearby airport or helipad.

Our pilot charges him more to land at remote locations, not to mention the fines you can get from the city, or in this case, my school, for landing somewhere you don’t have permission to be.

But I think my father will forgive me this time, if I tell him it was in the interest of wooing a girl who would actually be able to carry on a conversation with my parents over dinner. An actual possible, respectable match for me. Tonight, I need to go for wow factor, not practicality.

It is unusually quiet as we walk through Main Quad, with only the sound of Sara’s heels clicking against the stone disrupting the California night. Lamps burn along our path, creating circles of light among the shadows. The sandstone arches of the arcades that line the quad look regal in the quiet, blue night. A bit different than during the day when this place is filled with tourists snapping pictures and hundreds of athletic-wear-clad students, biking through the quad and dodging between arches as they race to class.

We make it to the oval, the circle of road just beyond Main Quad, filled with about a football field’s length of grass. This is where I told Jeffery to land.

Above us, the wind rustles the leaves of palm trees, but there is no chopper in sight yet.

I look to Sara. She smiles easily; I manage to smile back before looking down, embarrassed. I want to say something, but suddenly small talk seems so hard.

I clear my throat. “I don’t know why he’s not here yet.” I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.

I had a text from Jeffery ten minutes ago saying he’s on his way.

“It’s okay.” She smiles. “I got nowhere else to be.”

I nod and smile back, feeling the weight melt off my shoulders.

After an awkward few minutes that feels like a century, I can see the light of Jeffery on approach.

We stand back as the chopper lands, kicking up the few leaves on the meticulously kept lawn. Once he makes contact with the earth, the propellers begin to slow toward a stop.

“I usually get on with them still going,” I say. “But I thought you’d want it this way. Since it’s your first time.”

“Yeah,” she says, making a face. “It would not have been cute if you’d told me to get on with those things going.” She laughs. “You’d probably have seen me cry.”