Tim can't actually remember the last time he's been on a date. There'd been a couple times with Tyra back home, but those had usually only been shit like school dances and football things he'd dragged her along to. The dinner-and-a-movie thing had never been his kind of thing and, luckily, Tyra'd never asked for it much either.
And every other girl, well... that's what parties had been for.
But, Isabel's different. Somehow Tim had known that right from the beginning, from the minute he'd laid (admittedly drunken) eyes on her at the Anti-Ball thing, seen her in that red dress, all legs and soft, perfect skin. Girls like her don't come from Dillon. It's a whole new ballgame.
The clothing box hadn't been entirely cooperative -- probably still ticked off about the whole bonfire thing he and Jaye had done -- but, he'd somehow managed to yank out a white, button-down shirt
and a pair of black pants. The bruises on his neck are still apparent as ever, the deep scratches on his shoulders and back still stinging a little. Even with those and the gash on his bottom lip, Tim manages to look more cleaned up than normal.
As for the food, he's made a couple sandwiches, mostly taking a guess at what she might like and he's filled a couple containers with some of the shitty-ass beer. Only because he can't find anything better. After tossing in some fruit and some kind of left-over pastry from the back of the fridge, he figures he has a good mix and he heads out.
There are some flowers along the path on the way to Isabel's hut and he grabs a few of them, making a sort of half-assed bouquet of sorts before he finds himself at what he thinks is her hut. It's the one with more windows, so he figures he has it right.
Feeling a weird flutter of nerves in his gut, Tim takes a slow breath and knocks.