“So, what do I have to do to get you to agree to let me take you out tomorrow?” he finally says, and I see in my peripheral vision that he’s turned to look at me.
I wait, mulling over what I should say, and then ultimately decide on the response I usually give, which borders between honesty and ‘lets see how interested you really are.’
I turn my head and boldly look him dead in the eyes.
“To be completely honest, I am incredibly awkward on dates. So… I’ll agree if it’s a casual day. I’m like a kid, you know? I like it simple. I don’t really glamazon. That’s not my thing.”
“You don’t glamazon?” He raises one eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”
I shrug.
“You know. Fake eyelashes and huge boobs and hooker heels.”
“Oh, so all of the women inside?”
“Pretty much,” I respond with a half laugh, then gesture to myself. “What you see is what you get.”
He steps towards me and I feel my heart rate pick up. With complete sincerity, he reaches out and adjusts my glasses, pushing them up my nose a little.
“Well, I can tell you with absolutely certainty that I like what I see,” he says softly.
I fight the cheesy grin that wants to bloom on my face and instead just offer him a small smile. Although I am certain my flushed cheeks give away the pleasure I felt at his words.
“So you said one-o-clock?” He nods and breaks out into that breathtaking smile again. My butterflies are going crazy. “One sounds great.”
Chapter Two
Mack asks for my number and ends up leaving the party within ten minutes, and then I spend a while lying back on the balcony lounger with a stupid smile. I feel like I’m a 15-year-old going on her first date.
Ridiculous.
I’m not trying to pretend that at 21, I’m some old bird. I’m still very young and have a whole lot of life ahead of me. But there is a huge difference between how 15- and 21-year-olds feel about dating and relationships. When I was 15 and going on my first few dates with Carter Lincoln, it felt like electricity was shooting through my veins any time we would look at each other. Just a single glance from him across the quad could make my traitorous body break out into a deep flush from the middle of my chest, up my neck, onto my cheeks.
Over the years, some of that newness has fallen away. I’ve dated here and there, but I don’t get that squirmy feeling of nervousness anymore. Did I seriously think I felt butterflies when Mack asked me out earlier? Because that’s how just those few moments of interaction with Mack made me feel. Like it was all new again.
When I finally decide it’s time to stop daydreaming, I wander inside to find Jeremy or Charlie. With no luck, I drive home and crawl into bed at a reasonable hour. But that still doesn’t stop me from groaning when my alarm goes off at six the next morning.
Time for practice.
I quickly put on my practice gear before peeking into Charlie’s room to see if she made it home the night before. Nope. I cross my fingers, hoping she didn’t go home with the idiot.
After shoving a few bites of banana into my mouth, I drive out to the college soccer field wishing that I was still snuggled in bed, thinking about Mack and what our date will look like. Practice on a Saturday morning feels particularly mean. Normally we just practice during the weekdays, but with only one loss this season and a top ten ranking, Glendale College is currently a real hopeful for a spot in the playoffs for the first time in the college’s history. So, extra practices it is.
We’re stretching when Coach Walker joins us at seven and gets us running the field. After we finish a few laps, she pulls us into a circle.
“Alright ladies, as I’ve been saying the past few weeks, our focus needs to remain on endurance training. You’ve all done a great job adjusting to the difficult drills I’ve thrown at you so far this season, and that shows dedication. But keep up your extra training in your off time to boost that endurance. Regulations dictate I can only have two hours with you this morning, so we’re gonna focus on high-intensity drills. We’re more than halfway there, but you still have eight games left.”
Several of the girls let out groans at Coach Walker’s statements.
“I hate high-intensity drills,” I hear from my right.
I turn to see Piper Mills, one of our first-year strikers, and I give a small nod of agreement. We goalkeepers have it easier during high-intensity drills, because it mainly focuses on ball maneuvering and quick feet.
But none of us get to lay back and watch. And from the looks of it, Piper wants to curl up in a ball and sleep away that hangover. Her eyes are dull and she still has makeup crusted on her face from whatever she was doing the night before. Someone didn’t get enough sleep. Rookie mistake.
Coach Walker grins at the complaints.
“No moaning, ladies. You’re in a solid position, but you still have a lot of things to work on. Let’s get moving.”
With a clap of Coach Walker’s hands, everyone sluggishly begins getting into groups and maneuvering the field with cones and soccer balls, and practice begins.
When Coach Walker finally calls it a day, I shout a quick goodbye to a few of the girls, jog quickly to my car and drive back to the apartment. I can finally put my mind towards what I’ve been willing myself not to think about all morning.
It’s date day.
I’m not normally this person. I don’t get excited about dates. I have too much going on in my life at any given moment to get excited about watching someone of the opposite sex chew with their mouth open.
School work, soccer practice, my part-time job, family drama… those take up way too much of my time already. Not to mention my handful of friendships, my social calendar - which, to be honest, isn’t completely off-the-charts-packed with fun things, but it should still be a priority - and the endurance and strength training I pack into my free time. Plus sleeping and allowing myself time to relax.
That literally leaves like, six hours of my week available for dating. I’ve always used those hours for extra study or to eat stupid amounts of food, or more time at the gym. But today, Mack gets those hours. And I’m entirely positive it will be my best use of time in months.
When I open the door to the apartment as I return from practice, I see Charlie’s heels and purse tossed haphazardly on the floor in the entryway.
“Char?” I call out.
For a second I hear nothing. Then a small grunt comes from the living room. When I walk in, I find her face down on the sofa, a bottle of water and a package of head meds on the coffee table.
“Rough night?” I ask softly, crouching next to her and pulling her hair out of her face.
She rolls onto her side and looks up at me, remorse written in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I give her a small smile. “Me too.” I lean forward and kiss her forehead, then head into the bathroom where I quickly disrobe and crawl under the hot water.
A few minutes pass before I hear a faint knock on the door.
“Come in,” I say, knowing that Charlie has come to do our ‘post-argument’ chat. Any time we have something important to talk about, she waits until I’m in the shower so she can sit outside the curtain and can talk without a face-to-face conversation. I don’t really get it, but I guess it’s just a thing with her.
I hear Charlie drop the lid on the toilet and sit down. Without even looking I know exactly how she’s sitting. She has her feet on the seat, arms wrapped around her legs, chin resting on her knees. We may have done this once or twice.
“So, I have to tell you something,” she says in a voice I can barely hear over the rushing water.
My hands drop from where they were scrubbing shampoo into my hair.
“Please, Charlie. Please tell me you didn’t sleep with that dick from last night.”
“No!” she quickly shouts. “No, no, no. Yeah, that guy was a total dick. You were completely righ
t.”
I sigh with relief.
“Thank the Lord,” I mumble, and my hands resume scrubbing the shampoo.
“No, this isn’t about him. This is…” there’s a pause. A long pause. So I know she’s trying to summon up the courage to tell me whatever it is. “I had sex with Jeremy.”
My hands stop moving in my hair, shampoo forgotten, and I feel all of the color drain from my face. I grab the shower curtain and practically rip it off as I pull it back to see Charlie sitting on the toilet, exactly how I had pictured her.
“You what!?” I shout, completely uncaring about standing buck naked in front of my roommate, with the water still on and now splashing off of my body and onto the floor.
“I’m sorry, RJ,” she says quickly, tucking herself further into her body. “I should have told you about it. I told myself over and over that it was wrong for me to keep this secret from you. But I just didn’t want you to hate me for sleeping with your brother. Your friendship means too much to me. He said we shouldn’t ever tell you because you would be really upset. So I just never said anything.”
My face scrunches up in confusion.
“Wait a minute, when did this happen?”
“Freshman year.”
“What!?” I shout again. My eyes fall shut. I cross my arms over my breasts, lifting a hand to squeeze at the bridge of my nose. “So, I tell my brother to stay away from you because I don’t want to ruin our friendship and he immediately goes and gets you into bed? I am going to murder him.”
“Oh my god, RJ, pleasepleaseplease you can’t tell him I told you!” Charlie’s face is contorted in some weird mix of mortified and terrified. “We promised each other we wouldn’t ever say anything about it since both of us said it didn’t mean anything. It just turns out I might have been lying when I said it, and he wasn’t. I’m only telling you now because I feel like you’re owed an explanation for why I react the way I do sometimes when I’m around him.”
I let out a long breath and swipe the shampoo that is now trickling down my forehead away from my eyes. I’m trying to formulate the words I want to say without sounding like a bitch.
“Charlie, I get it. The way you act is how most women feel after he sleeps with them and then breaks things off. I dealt with enough broken hearts asking me why he didn’t want to date them when we were freshmen. But I told you this about my brother before you even met him. I specifically told you that he was bad news from a relationship standpoint and not to fall for his shit. I mean, after all of the guys you’ve slept with, why is he the one that has you all up in knots and unable to move on?”
She looks at me a bit confused.
“Maybe you just don’t understand because you haven’t had sex with anyone before.”
I roll my eyes.
“You don’t get to pull the virgin card here, okay? Just because I haven’t had sex before doesn’t mean I don’t understand that it can have an emotional impact. I just don’t understand what it is about Jeremy that has you hung up on him three years later.” And then I quickly add, “And your explanation better have nothing to do with his penis.”
Her mouth tips up at the side, and I see her trying to hold in a laugh.
“I’m not saying you don’t understand because you’re a virgin. I’m saying you don’t understand because you don’t know the difference between your first time, and every other time. Your first time changes everything.”
I pause and look at her.
“You were a virgin when you slept with Jeremy?” She nods. “But I thought… I mean, when we moved in together freshman year you used to talk about the guys from high school that you’d hooked up with.”
“Oh, don’t assume I was completely innocent. I definitely had my fun in high school,” she says, grabbing her hair and pulling it forward across one shoulder. She lets out a sigh as she starts picking at the tips of her hair. “But I was a virgin until Jeremy.”
I sit down on the edge of the tub and stare at the drain, trying to reorganize the past few years to try and better understand. Charlie was a virgin when she slept with Jeremy. Does that mean that her one-night-stand-a-thon for the past three years was because of Jeremy? Because she was trying to forget the person she gave her first time to? And all those times she talked about him, but pretended she wasn’t interested, she was pretending because she knew I didn’t want them together? My jaw tightens as I realize that Jeremy must have slept with her and then used me as an excuse to discard her.
“I’m so sorry, Char. I didn’t know.”
She shrugs and stands up.
“Well, now you do. So, can you promise me you won’t tell your brother?”
I look at her for a moment, unsure whether I can really make that promise. When I finally nod at her, she leans over and kisses my forehead.
“You’re a great friend, RJ. Thanks for not kicking my ass for handing my flower to your brother.” I shake my head and let out a chuckle. I hate when she calls it a flower. As I stand and begin to close the shower curtain, she adds “And your ass looks amazing, by the way. That extra training is totes paying off.”
I glance over and find her grinning at me before she pulls the door closed and I’m left with my thoughts.
* * * * *
The doorbell rings at 12:45. Having been ready and wandering aimlessly around our apartment for nearly an hour, I come flying down the stairs with such energy that I nearly slip on the tile near the entry.
“You expecting someone?” Charlie asks from the living room.
“Yeah, kind of,” I respond, before wiping my hands on my jeans, blowing out a breath and opening the door.
He stands there smiling in Chucks, jeans, and a faded Ramones t-shirt holding a… dead flower?
“Uhm… hi,” I say, unsure how to proceed.
“Hey. This is for you,” he says handing the shriveled up flower to me.
A choked laugh escapes me as I start to reach out to take it from him.
“I’m not sure what to say. You shouldn’t have?”
He laughs and chucks the dead flower into the bushes next to our door.
“It was a joke, RJ. You said you’re awkward at dates, so I thought I would start it off awkward to alleviate the stress.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“And a dead flower is…”
“Hey, if I can’t wow you with some glamorously expensive meal, I at least have to try and make you laugh. Don’t tell me I totally ruined everything already.” His facial expression is twisted into mock seriousness, and I can’t help the smile that blooms on my face. He leans forward, his forearm resting on the doorjamb, his face just inches from me. “There it is.”
“What?”
“That smile,” he responds, his eyes focusing on my mouth. He’s so close to me that I swear we’re breathing in each other’s air.
I bite my lip to keep from giggling like a mental patient, and glance down at my bare feet before summoning the courage to look him directly in the face again.
“Wanna come in? I still have to put my shoes on.”
He nods and follows me into the living room, where Charlie is currently curled up in her pajamas watching reality TV, nursing the remains of her hangover.
She flicks her eyes to me for only a second when we walk into the room, but then double-takes when she realizes I’m not alone.
“Charlie this is Mack. Mack, my roommate, Charlie.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mack says, nodding at her.
Charlie gives Mack her megawatt smile.
“You too. So, where are you two going?” she asks, flipping onto her knees and facing us from over the back of the sofa.
“Not sure,” I reply as I tuck my feet into socks and slip on one of my Chucks. “Somewhere casual, right Mack?” I look up at him for confirmation as I lace my shoes.
He just nods.
“Yup. Casual.”
After finishing with my shoes, I stand and say
bye to Charlie. With Mack’s back turned towards us as he walks to the door, Charlie’s eyes grow wide and she gives me a quick thumbs up before mouthing Oh. My. God. I giggle and wave at her before walking out the front door.
When we get out to the curb, I see a truck with two bikes in the bed. Without a word, he drops the bed of the truck and begins to unload.
“We’re riding bikes?” I ask.
“Well, if I remember correctly, your exact words were ‘I’m like a kid. I like it simple.’ So, we’re going old-school, pre-drivers license days.” He pushes a Schwinn towards me, complete with basket and bell.
“Wow, Mack. Pulling out all the stops,” I throw my leg over the bike and get comfortable on the seat. “What would you have done if I was wearing a dress and heels?”
He looks at me with a smirk.
“After your glamazon comment last night, I figured you in jeans was a safe bet.”
“I have to be honest. I’ve never been on a bike date before. Two points for creativity.” I ring the bell twice for emphasis.
“Two points? That’s it?” He opens the passenger door to the truck and pulls out a blue helmet. “I deserve at least five.”
I laugh.
“You’ve gotta do a lot more than throw me on a bike to get big points with me.”
His face shows the hint of a smile as he walks towards me and plops the helmet on my head, then clips the straps under my chin. He takes a step back and just looks at me, causing my face to flush.
“Perfect.”
He steps back towards his bike, straddles the seat, and calls a ‘let’s go’ as we take off down the road.
It has been a really long time since I’ve ridden a bike. At least since before I started driving, if not longer. I forgot how fun it is. We pedal next to each other down the road, and at this slower pace, I’m able to soak in details about the day that would normally race past me.
Like what an absolutely gorgeous day it is, and how the sun is high but not too hot. Or the leaves on the ground, when the abscission of leaves doesn’t happen on most trees in my neighborhood. Or something less beautiful, like the fact the people down the road decided it would be okay to leave their stained mattress at the curb. Bleh.
The Keeper Page 3