First Impressions Series (1-2)

by Nicole R. Locker

  The credits of the second Netflix movie finished then, so I asked, “Should I find another movie, or are you ready to call it a night?”

  “Yeah, I guess I’d better get going. It’s been a long day and I’m pretty beat.”

  At that, we both stood up, Dylan put his jacket on, and I walked him to the door. When I turned the knob and pulled the door open, Dylan unhurriedly walked through the doorway, but as soon as he got outside the door, he paused.

  Then he turned around to face me.

  “I have a confession to make,” he said.

  “Uh-oh… Good things rarely follow that statement,” I teased.

  “I noticed you that night at the Book Shelf. The night you said you first saw me. I’m not sure why I didn’t mention it before, but I saw you come in that night, and I saw you when you left,” he admitted.

  I didn’t know where he was going with this, so after a brief moment, I said, “You did?”

  He stood there for another second as though he were trying to read the expression on my face. I wasn’t sure what he found there, before he finally smiled and said, “Well, goodnight. See you tomorrow.”

  Dylan waved as he turned to walk away down the hall, leaving the apartment building. I closed the door before he got out of sight and locked the dead-bolt. Then I turned and leaned my back against the door wondering what that look was in his eyes.

  I decided not to overthink anything. I knew I had a way of doing that all too often. It was a blessing and a curse. I often tried to read between the lines, and sometimes there was nothing there to read. That had never stopped me from finding something. So I decided this time to let it go.

  It had been an enjoyable evening and I had learned a lot about him that I planned to use tomorrow night at the coffee shop. I started out wanting to help Dylan find someone he deserves. The more I got to know Dylan, the more I wanted him to find someone who deserved him as well.

  Why did I have a feeling things had just gotten complicated?

  CHAPTER 4: DYLAN

  “Porter, you going out with us tonight, bro?” Ethan called to me from across the crowded locker room as we finished dressing after practice.

  It was Friday evening, and I’d waited a long week for tonight to go over to Zia’s place. I hadn’t told the guys yet that I had other plans, not only for that night, but also for the following night on Halloween.

  Now was as good a time as any.

  “No, I have other plans this weekend. You’ll have to go without me this time,” I said.

  “Uh-oh, this must be a girl. It’s not Katy, is it?” Ethan really had it bad for that girl.

  “No worries, man. It’s not Katy. I thought things were heating up with you and her. I haven’t talked to her since that night at your place when she was talking to you,” I told him to ease his mind.

  I could see the relief wash across Ethan’s face, though he was trying for nonchalance. “If it’s not Katy, then who is it? Anyone I know?”

  “No, it’s nothing big right now. It’s more like a project I’m working on that someone is helping me with.” No sense in going into detail. If things didn’t work out, I wouldn’t want to look like a sucker in front of these guys. Especially since the more time I spent with Zia, the more I thought that she was not interested in anything more than helping me with this arrangement we had made.

  She was all business, and tonight was just her way of researching her subject, though I couldn’t deny the thrill I felt about spending the evening with her anyway.

  After I left the locker room and headed home, I took my time getting ready and made myself a bite to eat, grilling some chicken and vegetables on the George Foreman. Once I was dressed and ready to go, I grabbed my jacket and started walking the couple of blocks to her apartment building.

  At eight-thirty p.m., right on time, I knocked on her fifth floor apartment door and ran a hand through my hair as I waited for her to answer. It didn’t take long before the door opened.

  I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful this girl was, as she stood there in casual clothes, mismatched socks on bare feet, and wisps of her hair escaping a loose, messy bun. She looked great all dressed up to go out the previous times I had seen her, but this was different. She was comfortable and soft. I was speechless.

  She ushered me in and took my jacket before showing me to her sofa. I sat as she went to the kitchen and brought me back a bottle of beer, a glass of wine in her other hand for herself.

  I thanked her for the beer as I sat back and got comfortable. About that time, Clara came out where Zia and I were. Zia introduced me, although I had already been somewhat acquainted with Clara before through mutual friends.

  “Hi, Dylan, it’s so nice to meet you. I hope you two have fun tonight. I was just heading out, but I look forward to seeing you again soon. We’ll have to all hang out sometime, like a double date or something.” Clara grinned widely and looked at Zia when she offered the double date.

  The thought was appealing, I had to admit, and I wondered what Zia had told Clara about our arrangement. Was there a chance she had portrayed us to Clara as something more than just a social experiment?

  Unable to hide my smile, I answered, “Great, I’ll look forward to it.”

  “Sorry about that,” Zia apologized once Clara was out the door. “So how was your game last week?” She grabbed the TV remote turning on Netflix and sat back on the sofa with her legs tucked underneath her.

  “It was great if you don’t consider that we lost by two points. It was a close game, though, and we played hard. We played a good team,” I explained.

  “I’m glad to see you’re such a good sport about it,” she returned. “So tell me about you. Where are you from? Tell me about your family.” She sat the remote down and shifted to where she was angled more toward my direction.

  “Well, I’m originally from Houston, but we moved to Tennessee for a while after my mother died when I was two. My older brother, Devin, and I were raised by my dad.” At the mention of my mom, I hoped I wasn’t putting a downer on the mood. I wasn’t looking for sympathy, it just was what it was.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry about your mom. Did your dad ever remarry?” she asked me.

  I thought about it for a second. “No, he really never settled down with any one person after my mom. I guess you could say he played the field a lot after that. I don’t think he really ever got over my mom, so it was almost like he tried to fill the void she left by dating one woman after another.”

  “Do you remember your mother at all?” she continued.

  “No, not really. Sometimes I dream about her, but I don’t know if they are memories, or just things my mind makes up to fill in the gaps, you know? I was so young when she died. My brother remembers her a lot better than I do,” I told her.

  I was about three quarters of the way through with my bottle of beer at that point, and Zia stood to go back into the kitchen for another as she continued the conversation. “So it was just you, your dad, and your brother growing up? No women?” She handed me the new bottle.

  “Thank you,” I said as she sat back down beside me on the couch, a little bit closer to me than she was previously. “Yep, it was just us guys. I really haven’t been around a lot of women growing up, now that you mention it, other than maybe a babysitter here and there, teachers, or friends’ moms, things like that.”

  “So what does your dad do?”

  “He owns an international company based out of Tennessee. He’s a pretty successful businessman, you could say. The company has branches all over the place,” I explained.

  “Did your dad spend much time with you growing up?”

  “You know, he really did. My dad was a busy and important man, but he also made sure that my brother and I knew we were important to him. He was always at our games, always made it to parents’ night at our school. He’s a really good guy. A lot of people think because he has so much money, he must be some kind of jerk, but my dad is really a charitable pers
on once you get to know him.

  “He donates a lot of money to a foundation for cancer research, which, of course, was how my mother died. He donates gifts to the children’s hospital every Christmas. And of course, he donates every year to the university. He got his business degree here himself a few decades ago now.” My dad was one of the main reasons I had decided on this particular school, and I knew he was proud of me for following in his footsteps, which meant a lot to me. I really looked up to my father in a lot of ways.

  “He does sound like a great guy. I guess I know where you get it from now.” Zia’s compliment sent a rush of pride and excitement through me. She thought I was a great guy. It was the spark I needed to rekindle the little flame of hope that maybe she could feel something more for me.

  “What about you? What is your family like?” I asked as I reached out a masculine hand to touch her knee before bringing it back to rest in my lap. I wanted some kind of physical contact, but I still wasn’t sure what she was comfortable with or what the boundaries were just yet. To test the boundaries, I had to push at them slowly. So far, she had at least seemed receptive.

  Zia talked about her parents, her younger brother whom she was never close to because of their age difference, and how her family had split their time together after her parents divorced when she was still fairly young. Her father was an architect and her mother was a corporate assistant.

  Both of her parents had stayed on good terms even after the divorce, which I could tell she appreciated. They had both remarried, but neither had any more kids after that.

  After a while, the conversation shifted to school. I explained how I was majoring in sports medicine with a minor in biology, which, of course, meant a ton of science classes. I could tell she was surprised that I chose such an involved study. I joked that I needed a lot of brains to balance out all this brawn, which got a beautiful smile out of her.

  It really came down to wanting a career doing something I loved while helping other people in the process; I wanted to put my athletic ability and physical talents to good use. Zia shared the same respect, which she said was why she had chosen psychology. I could tell she had a talent for that as well.

  Then the conversation turned to our night out from the previous weekend, salsa dancing at El Sabor. I admitted how different it was for me to go out to a place with people who didn’t know who I was.

  “Was it different in a good way or a bad way?” she asked.

  “In a good way,” I answered, and then qualified, “A very good way.”

  Around here, it was not often that I could walk into a place and not have five different people immediately walk up and talk to me. I wasn’t meaning to sound conceited or anything, but it was just how things were. People knew who I was, and most of them wanted me to know them, too.

  I didn’t tell her this, but maybe that was part of the allure for me about Zia. She garnered my attention silently without even trying, and she wasn’t going to make it easy on me even now. She was a mystery, a challenge.

  Finally, the conversation went in a direction I’d been hoping it would go with her since we’d met: dating.

  “Tell me what type of girls you’re attracted to. What kind of characteristics do you hope for, other than what you told me that first night at the coffee shop?” I could tell Zia was interested in hearing my answer to this. She put her glass of wine down, shifted to where she sat sideways, cross-legged on the sofa cushion, angling her body directly facing me. She leaned forward as though she was intently listening and awaiting my response.

  Realizing this was serious, I decided I had better put some genuine thought into it. I sat quietly, my eyes searching the ceiling in contemplation for the answer.

  Finally, I looked back at her and gave her the answer she’d been so patiently waiting for. “I haven’t got a clue.”

  “Seriously?” She feigned annoyance, but continued to smile.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Everything I’ve ever thought I wanted has turned out to be less than fulfilling so far, so maybe it’s about time to figure out some new standards for myself.”

  She nodded in understanding. “I guess I can accept that.”

  “What about you? Why aren’t you dating anyone?” I asked as I lightly squeezed her shoulder before using the same hand to pick up my bottle of beer to take a sip.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She sighed. “I mean, I’m not closed off to the idea or anything. I just don’t feel like I need it to be happy.”

  She paused briefly and then continued. “It also doesn’t help that the relationships I’ve had in the past did not do much to make me all that happy. So when you’ve been happier not being in a relationship than you’ve ever been while in a relationship, let’s just say it hasn’t earned a top spot on my priority list.”

  “Wow, you must have really been burned,” I said, shaking my head. It sounded like something may have ended badly, but I didn’t want to pry. I knew there was an unspoken rule about not talking about past boyfriends or girlfriends to your current ones, and although I wasn’t a current one at the moment, I didn’t want to jinx myself if I ever hoped to be one.

  “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’ve had my share of heartbreaks, but it really hasn’t been anything that traumatizing. I’m just content with what I have: my friends, my family, school. I’m okay with waiting for the right guy. I’m not so desperate for love that I feel like I need to go out and find it in just anybody.” Zia shrugged and took another sip of her wine.

  I had to admit, I liked the sound of that a little better. I hated to think some jerk had hurt her before and that she would have a hard time moving on.

  About that time, the credits to the second Netflix movie started rolling. Time had really flown by tonight, I thought.

  “Should I find another movie, or are you ready to call it a night?” Zia asked.

  I wanted to stay and keep talking, but I could tell she was getting tired and I didn’t want to wear out my welcome. “Yeah, I guess I’d better get going. It’s been a long day and I’m pretty beat.”

  At that, we both stood up and I pulled on my jacket. Zia walked me to the door and opened it for me. I walked out, wondering to myself how I wanted this departure to go. We had had an amazing time tonight, just hanging out and talking, at least from where I was sitting.

  Once I got outside the door, I slowly turned around and faced her. How did I want to go about this?

  “I have a confession to make,” I said.

  “Uh-oh… Good things rarely follow that statement,” Zia teased.

  I wanted to tell her I was falling for her, that I wanted to be with her instead of playing this game anymore of pretending I might like any girls I would meet with her help.

  “I noticed you that night at the Book Shelf. The night you said you first saw me. I’m not sure why I didn’t mention it before, but I saw you come in that night, and I saw you when you left,” I admitted, still not sure where this was going.

  She searched my eyes for a few seconds. “You did?”

  I looked back into her eyes, and for a brief moment, I considered the consequences of just leaning in and kissing her right then. Did she look like she was expecting it, and if so, like she was hoping for it?

  If she wasn’t hoping for it, how would that affect everything between us from that point forward? I didn’t want to assume something and be totally wrong, and I definitely didn’t want to come off like some self-entitled jerk.

  “Well… goodnight. See you tomorrow.” I gave a weak smile, waved, and turned to take my exit.

  It was the right decision. The timing just wasn’t right, at least not yet.

  CHAPTER 5: ZIA

  The next night, I met Dylan at the Daylee Grind. I didn’t dress up in a costume, but since it was Halloween, I figured I’d at least show a little Halloween spirit. I decided to go with a black fitted shirt with a Cheshire Cat smile and the words “We’re all mad here” in cryptic lettering across the front.
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br />   The live music was scheduled to start at seven-thirty p.m., so we decided to meet there at that time. I went a little early to make sure we got a table, since the coffee shop usually got pretty crowded on live music nights.

  “Can I get an Italian cream soda? White chocolate and watermelon if you’ve got it,” I ordered a drink at the counter before heading to my table to wait.

  Dylan showed up right on time, once again, I noticed.

  “Hey, Zia!” Dylan seemed excited to be here tonight.

  “Hey! Long time no see, stranger.” I laughed good-naturedly.

  “What are you drinking?” he asked.

  “It’s a white chocolate-watermelon Italian cream soda. You want one?”

  He made no attempt to hide an exaggerated look of disgust on his face, and I couldn’t help thinking to myself how attractive he was even when he made a horrible face like that. I mean, was it really fair for any one person to be that attractive?

  “You can’t knock it until you try it! Here, try mine before you rule it out altogether,” I offered.

  “Okay,” he said as he reached for my glass and took a sip from the side instead of the straw.

  He looked as though he was contemplating for a moment, and then decided it was not so bad after all. “Once again, you know more about what I like better than I do, it seems. And to think I never would have tried this on my own.”

  “Should I go grab you one?”

  “No, of course not!” he feigned offense, “but I’ll get you another one while I run up there to order mine. I’ll be right back. Would you like anything else?”

  “No, nothing else, thank you,” I smiled.

  Dylan returned with our cream sodas and sat as we got settled in while the band finished setting up and started playing their first song, a cover of Goodnight Moon by Go Radio.

  “The singer is amazing. Have you heard them before?” I asked him as I started looking around the room to see what kind of selection Dylan had here tonight.

  “No, I haven’t, but you’re right. It’s great music so far,” he agreed.