“Hey, you asked. I like to defy superstition, just out of principle that it’s stupid. It’s just a number. It has to be lucky for somebody,” I answered.
Greyson shook his head. “So we’ve determined you’re an optimist, great. So we’ll have thirteen rules then, the final rule being that in exactly three weeks from today if either of us isn’t getting everything they want and you aren’t insanely happy, then we can just walk away from all of this. We can meet up here in exactly three weeks from today. You just show up if you want this to be a real thing, or you don’t show up if you want out. Simple as that.”
“Well, I’ve stood you up before so at least I know you can take it,” I teased.
“I’m pretty sure you just got lost that night and you couldn’t find the place. Women are terrible with directions,” he rebuffed. “Okay, so that gives us each six rules.” He changed the subject quickly. “These are things you want that would make this your ultimate, perfect relationship.”
As we ate our food, my mind swirled with ideas. Surely I should be able to think of a mere six things I wanted in a boyfriend, right? As I was deep in thought, I noticed Greyson had grabbed my pen. He wrote for about ninety seconds, set the pen down, then folded his napkin in half.
“You’re done?” I asked, almost spitting out some of my food. My napkin was still blank.
“Hey, I’m a guy who knows what I want,” he responded with a smirk.
Great, cocky Greyson returns. If I knew anything about men, I assumed more than half of his rules would be sexual in some way. We didn’t exactly talk about what was fair game here. But this contract, my side of it at least, was about me. This was my chance to actually choose what I wanted. I could create the perfect man. I was going to have to make him work hard for this idea. Maybe that would finally wipe away his arrogant, handsome stare.
Chapter 8
We finished our food and I was happy to have finished the list on the back of my napkin.
“So when is the big reveal? How do you want to do this?” I asked.
“Over dessert. Come with me,” Greyson said, getting up from the table.
“We have to get the check first. Where is our waitress?” I asked, looking around the restaurant.
“It’s already been taking care of. Let’s go,” he said eagerly.
“What do you mean it’s already been taken care of? How did that happen?” I asked, mildly amused.
“I knew if I had to wait for the bill you would argue with me about paying it, right? So I’m saving you the energy,” he said with a sly smile. “I took care of it.”
“Well, I don’t expect for you to just pay for things for me,” I replied, a little annoyed.
“Which is exactly what I’m trying to teach you, Mallory. Unexpected is good,” he said, leaning down towards me. He kissed me passionately and it took my breath away. He pulled away and extended his hand out to me, which I accepted, and we walked out of the restaurant.
“So, will you come with me?” he asked sweetly.
“Where are we going?”
“Do you ever just say yes to a question?” he said, poking me. “I thought you’d be happy that I remembered to ‘ask’ you to come with me, rather than just telling you I was taking you somewhere.”
“Fair enough,” I replied. “I walked here anyway, so I suppose you could give me a lift somewhere.” I wondered what he had in mind.
He led me to the parking lot and into his big black pick-up truck. It was a nice vehicle, perfectly clean as if he just had it detailed.
He drove us up the mountain for about fifteen minutes, then pulled into a small cul-de-sac area overlooking the entire downtown area and even Lake Tahoe. He backed up the truck so the back of his pick-up faced the view. We both climbed out of the vehicle.
“Wow, it’s beautiful up here,” I remarked, quite in awe of the scenery. The pine trees looked even bigger than usual, as if they were completely engulfing us. The blue of the lake still sparkled despite the distance, and the water looked as clear as ever. “How did you ever find this place?”
“I had to come up here a couple months ago to make a delivery to some rich lady in a giant log cabin a little further up the road. I kind of stumbled upon this spot and I love it. I think they’re going to be building some houses here eventually. But in the meantime, I love to just come here and think. I’ve been up here quite a few times since that delivery, actually.”
“What do you think about while you’re up here?” I inquired. It seemed like the perfect spot for some life reflection. The solitude of it, tucked away from the city, made it a perfect spot to disappear from the world.
“Lots of stuff, I guess. Life,” he shrugged. "Too deep for first date conversation." He opened up the back door of his pick-up and pulled out a bunch of blankets. He threw them in the back of the truck. The sun was setting and cast an orange-purple haze across the sky. The lights of downtown twinkled in the distance.
Greyson set a small cooler in the bed of the truck before he helped me climb up into the back of the vehicle. We spread out the blankets and stretched our legs out on top of them.
“So, dessert,” he said, opening the small cooler. “Now I know you’re a dessert expert, so cut me a break here.” He pulled out a chocolate pie from the cooler, along with two forks.
“Did you make that?” I asked, noticing the silicone pie shell around it. Pies from the store didn’t come like that.
“Not this particular one, but I used to make them with my mom all the time,” he said, setting it down between us. “It’s one of her signature items from her breakfast diner. I know, why would a breakfast diner serve pie? But you’d be surprised how many of these she goes through in a day.” He handed me a fork. I dug right into the middle of the pie and sampled a bite. It was rich chocolate with real whipped cream, chocolate shavings, and a chocolate cookie crust. I’m pretty sure I let out a small groan as I ate it.
“Do you approve?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you kidding? It’s amazing. It's one of the best chocolate pies I’ve ever had, honestly.” I dug my fork back in for another bite. Greyson smiled at me as I ate, and I truly felt comfortable with him in this moment. It was a simple scene, laying in the back of a pick-up truck overlooking the city while scarfing down pie, but it somehow felt whimsical too. All alone in the world, eating rich chocolate as the sun dropped below the mountains. It was one of those moments where the world seemed utterly perfect.
“So, should we discuss our rules?” Greyson asked, pulling his napkin out of his pocket.
“I don’t know. I may have to change one of my demands. I think I want to be fed this pie in bed every morning for breakfast,” I said, taking another bite. I grabbed my clutch and pulled out my napkin.
“What if I have a rule about no food in bed?” he asked teasingly. “It is kind of gross if you really think about it.” He set his fork into the pie and opened up his napkin, so I did the same.
“So how does this work? Do you want to read them one by one or altogether? I think you should go first,” I suggested. For some reason I felt a little nervous about the whole thing. What if we wanted drastically different things? This could be an awkward conversation.
“Always the bossy one, fine. I’ll give you my six rules and you can tell me if there are any deal breakers,” he said clearing his throat, almost appearing a little nervous too. "Is this weird?"
"Of course it is," I replied, stating the obvious. "Unless this is just your typical first date move."
"No, not at all. I just thought of it this morning after you left. You had all of these excuses so that you wouldn't have to give me a chance. So I just thought I needed to come up with some crazy idea that might change your mind."
The stars began to come out and the air was still. I stared at him through the glow of whatever sunlight we had left. He reached back behind him and flicked on a small lantern so he could read what he wrote.
“Rule number one: you have to come
to family dinners with me on Sunday night. I know you may have to work sometimes on Sundays, but you have to at least make an effort.”
That didn’t seem too bad, other than the first initial visit of having to meet his family so soon. My parents lived in Sacramento and I didn’t see them too often, so I was at least looking forward to a nice home-cooked family meal.
“Do you really want to involve family in this? What if this doesn’t go anywhere beyond our three weeks together?” I asked curiously.
“Then I’ll have to make up a wild lie about you and why you left, and then they’ll all feel sorry for me. They’ll shower my broken heart with love and pity and my mom will probably make me ten pies for my sadness. I can handle that,” he teased.
I picked up my fork and ate another bite of pie. At least I could look forward to pie on Sundays. That was a dessert I didn’t often make, and I had to admit, it tasted amazing.
“Rule two: on the days I get to wake up with you, I get to cook you breakfast.” He stared at me as I swallowed my pie.
“What if I’m not hungry?” I asked coyly.
“If we’re staying the night together, I expect to make you hungry,” he responded, winking at me.
“Geez, so sure of yourself,” I shot back. “What about this morning? I did just fine without any food.”
“That’s because you thought you were doing the walk of shame to get out of my apartment as fast as you could. Now that you’ve decided you like me, it will be different.”
“I’m still making up my mind on that,” I said softly, looking away from his intense gaze. I’m not sure I sounded convincing at all. But the truth was, I still wasn’t totally sure what I was doing here. This was a very unconventional beginning to a relationship.
“Moving on, rule three: every week we have an ‘us’ day. I know we have really busy schedules, but we have to pick out just one day where everything else gets pushed aside and we spend it together,” he said sincerely.
“You realize that’s my downfall, right? Clearing my schedule?” I responded.
“Well that’s the beauty of all this. It’s now a rule. I don’t care if I have to come to where you are and bake brownies all day if you really can’t miss work, but I think it’s important. It’s just one day a week. And at the end of all this, if you really hated having to spend an entire day with me doing something fun, then you get to opt out,” he said with a smirk.
“I’ll do my best,” I answered honestly.
“Rule number four: you have to try every food I ask you to try.”
“What if it’s something I think is gross?” I asked.
“Well, then I’ll sound like your mother and tell you that you don’t know something is gross until you try it. So many people miss out on amazing food just because they’re afraid. I’m just asking you to be a little adventurous and try some new things. And if you hate it you don’t have to ever try it again,” he said sincerely.
“Fair enough. Keep going,” I said, taking another bite of pie.
“Rule number five: I want you to leave something at my house.”
“What?” I asked with my mouth full of chocolate.
“I know, that’s kind of weird. It’s always one of those unspoken things in a new relationship, like ‘do I get a drawer, should I leave a toothbrush at their house’ and all that. And everyone is always uncomfortable about that. But I actually want something of yours at my house. Something left in my room or kitchen or whatever. I feel like if something of yours is there then you’re not really going anywhere, if that makes sense. I don’t know. It will make me smile when you’re not around, that’s all,” he said honestly. “It’s just comforting to me. That’s what I want.”
“But then what happens in three weeks? Then we have the whole awkward exchange of stuff. That part is always weird after a break-up,” I said shaking my head.
“Well I don’t know why you’re so stuck on this not working out in three weeks. But I don’t know, you can leave a postage paid box under my bed. How about that? Then when I show up at the restaurant in three weeks and you don’t, I can go back home, sobbing I might add, and then I can just mail your stuff to you.” He shrugged his shoulders at me.
“You always have an answer for everything, don’t you,” I said with amusement. “What am I supposed to leave there? Something functional?”
“I don’t care, just some part of you. Your favorite shirt you like to wear while we’re on the couch watching movies, or a towel you like to use or something. Or a picture frame by the bed. I would even settle for some ugly porcelain cat figurine you women collect, whatever.”
“A cat figurine? Was your last girlfriend someone’s grandma?” I said laughing. Greyson leaned over and fed me a bite of pie from his fork, probably just to shut me up.
“It’s a rule, so just do it. And then you’ll get it back from UPS in less than a month from now, how about that?” he said with a smirk. “Last one, rule number six: no crying for no reason. I have no idea why girls do that, but it totally freaks me out.”
“Crying for no reason?” I asked curiously.
“Yeah, like you can’t just be crying and then I ask you what’s wrong and then you say ‘nothing’ and I’m left to figure it out. That has to be the worst thing women do. I just don’t get it. Men are baffled by that. I mean obviously I hope you never cry around me, that would just be better. But if you do, it has to be because you’re sad or something. Like if someone is dead, that's okay. Just not because the sun came up and you’re feeling emotional.”
“Wow. Were all your prior girlfriends on high doses of anti-depressants or something? I promise never to cry because of a sunrise, I can guarantee that. But what about crying because I’m actually emotional? I’m a terrible crier when it comes to romance movies,” I said honestly.
“That’s totally fine, there just has to be a reason. Like when you’re sobbing at a chick flick, you just have to tell me why you’re crying. Don’t just cry. You have to tell me what is actually making you sad.”
“Wow, so crying is a sticking point for you. Noted,” I said mockingly.
“So that’s it, really. Family dinners, an ‘us’ day, breakfast, adventurous foods, one ugly cat figurine, and no unexplainable emotions,” he said sitting up. “Your rules now.”
“Wow, who even needs more than six rules? You seem bossy enough to just run this relationship,” I retorted. I mean sure, I appreciated a guy who knew what he wanted, but he did seem a little overbearing. I suppose I should have been thankful though, given that there was nothing kinky or out of my comfort zone in any of those rules.
“Hey, I think it’s good we’re just laying it all out. It keeps things less complicated. You don't seem too freaked out by any of those things, right?" he asked.
"Quite the contrary. I'm actually relieved. I thought you would put some, um, physical stuff in there. Like a typical guy," I said brushing some hair back from my face.
"I slept on the couch last night, Mallory. Please tell me you don't think I'm just here for that," he replied.
"I don't know, you're a man. Men are physical," I said, trying to explain where I was coming from.
"Right, I get that," he said in agreement. "But that always makes things more complicated too, right? So let's just keep it light in that regard. Nothing serious. You need to be crazy about me first."
"Well it seems like we're working on the crazy part," I muttered, reaching for another bite of pie.
"Well, now it's your turn. What will make me your white knight? Or whatever you girls call it,” he said, resting back onto his elbows. He looked awfully handsome in the glow from the small lantern sitting between us. The moon shone brightly and stars blanketed the sky.
“Well, here goes. Rule number one: no whining that I work to much. Ever. Even if it’s true, I still don’t want to hear you complain about it,” I began, watching him nod in agreement. “Rule two: I want cards and love notes for no reason. Not just like a ‘hey what's up’ tex
t, but like an actual hand written note. I know that’s such a girl thing to say, but I think it’s really romantic and no one really does that anymore. And since I work so much, it's easy communication.”
“So you liked the note I put on your car the first day I met you?” he mused.
“No. I actually thought it was a parking ticket so I was pissed off before I even read it,” I responded. He smirked and I felt compelled to be a little more forthcoming. “But then yes, I did kind of like it later. After I gave it some thought. It was a nice gesture, I just didn’t want to admit it. Anyway, rule number three,” I continued, changing the subject, “don’t pay for everything. I literally wrote that down before the whole dinner check thing tonight. It really makes me crazy when guys think they’re supposed to pay every time there is a bill. I’m not a crazy feminist or anything, but I’m just saying that I work too, so I don’t see why you should be paying for all the expenses.”
“Doesn’t that make me less appealing? My mom would be horrified if she found out I let a woman pay for dinner,” he said with conviction.
“Well then I’ll be sure not to bring it up at your family dinner,” I teased. “Rule number four: you have to watch sappy movies with me, even if it annoys you that I cry at them.”
“Oh no, is this our first rule to rule death match?” he asked sarcastically. “We both had one about crying.”
“Look, I promise to uphold your rule not to cry for no reason. I'm not that girl. But you must understand that it is literally impossible for me not to cry while watching The Notebook. But instead of just crying haphazardly, we can pause the movie repeatedly and we can discuss how moving and emotional the whole story is,” I said dramatically.
“Wow, that sounds like every man's nightmare,” he teased back. “You can cry while we watch The Notebook, but you have to promise you won’t just be crying on a random Tuesday afternoon because you were just thinking about The Notebook. Fair compromise?”
Six Rules: Book Two in the SIX Series Page 5