A Kiss and a Cuddle

by Sloane, Sophie

  As he rocked Nina back and forth, he asked when he could see me again. I told him that my friend was performing a show at a bar on Friday night, and I couldn’t help but invite him along. He was more than happy to accept my invitation, and commented on how lucky he was to get to experience this city like a normal person. As he was leaving my condo, I explained that the lighting at the tavern was dim, but it would still be better if he put on his ball cap and tried “not to act like a royal heir at all, okay?”

  My mind snapped back to the matter at hand: what to wear tonight. I stared at myself in the mirror, currently wearing a white lacy dress and brown knee-high boots. The tavern was not fancy by any means, but I still wanted to dress up and look pretty. Not that this was a date, Rose. I was pretty much just Rex’s tour guide. And there was so much I didn’t know about him. Why was he even here in Denver? I felt I shouldn’t get too close to him, since he must have to leave soon. I looked at myself in the mirror, and the happy girl about to go on a date had disappeared. Why did I always put the guy down before I went on a date? I sighed. Probably to lower my expectations. No expectations meant no disappointment.

  I couldn’t deny the connection between me and Rex though, which seemed to be amplified at the amphitheatre. It felt like an explosion when we embraced. I wondered if he could feel it too. I looked at my face in the mirror. You could do this, Rose. Get to know him better. Let him in. Just go with the flow.

  I decided to run the risk of looking overdressed in my white lacy dress. I couldn’t help it. Sometimes a girl just needed to feel pretty. As much as the negative voices in my head tried to convince me otherwise, I really didn’t want Rex to think of me as just a tour guide. It was time to unleash my womanly wiles.

  After choosing my outfit, I quickly grabbed my brown leather jacket, headed out the door, and pushed the elevator button. Rex said he would be waiting out front in a cab. The bell dinged and the elevator doors opened up to reveal another young woman. She was all dressed up, presumably to go on a date too.

  “Wow, you smell great,” she said. “Like vanilla and Christmas.”

  “Thank you,” I gushed. “You look gorgeous. Whoever you are meeting tonight is one lucky guy.”

  She laughed, and we both watched the floor numbers on the screen count down. I felt the butterflies stirring in my stomach as the elevator descended. When the elevator doors opened, we exchanged goodbyes. I could see the yellow cab through the glass doors. As I walked out of the doors toward the cab, I could see Rex squished between his two bodyguards in the backseat. Oh, right. I had forgotten about the babysitters. I opened the front passenger door and sat next to the driver.

  “Hello, Rose!” all three of the men chimed in unison.

  “Hi, guys,” I replied. “Thanks for picking me up.” I hoped it would be a quick cab ride.

  “Our pleasure. Take us to the Three Kings Tavern, please,” Rex declared to the driver.

  “It is on South Broadway,” I added. The driver nodded and pulled out on to Larimer Street. There was a net of white Christmas lights that enveloped the street like a tunnel of light. The streets and the sidewalks were crowded. It was a typical Friday night downtown with horse-drawn carriages and couples walking hand-in-hand.

  After a few minutes of brain-numbing silence, Rex asked, “So, tell me again, Rose. How do you know this bloke?”

  “Derek is a really good friend of mine. We met a few years ago while playing open mic nights at a bar downtown, and we just clicked. He is an aspiring rock singer,” I explained. “He is really talented. You will love him.”

  “Oooh, you speak very highly of him. Do you fancy him or something?” he grinned.

  “Me? Fancy Derek?” I laughed out loud. “Never in a million years. We are such good friends. Absolutely not.”

  “Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” he said in a Shakespearean voice, and Johnny and Clive chuckled.

  “You’ll see. Men and women can just be friends, you know.”

  “I sure hope not,” he quipped in a low voice.

  The cab couldn’t get to the tavern soon enough. I always felt slightly awkward when his bodyguards were involved in our conversations. The driver turned the radio on a bit louder as we continued our journey. It wasn’t long before I announced that I could see the tavern coming up on the right hand side of the street.

  “Alas!” Rex said. “You boys seem to have indulged in a bit too much American food. It’s like you have supersized yourselves. It is a tad squishy back here.”

  “We just wanted to get a proper cuddle with you, mate,” Johnny replied, while leaning in closer to rub his arm.

  The driver pulled over to the side of the road outside of the tavern, and Rex paid the driver. I opened my door and stepped out on to the sidewalk. It was a crisp October evening, and I felt a chill in my lacy dress. Soon enough, Rex squeezed his way out of the cab and walked towards me.

  “Oh, my little marshmallow… wow!” he said, eyeing me up and down. “I couldn’t see how cute you looked in the cab. You look absolutely delicious.”

  “Thank you. It’s nothing fancy, just an old dress.” I replied. Or it was quite possibly the cutest outfit in my entire closet. “Shall we go in?”

  “Lead on, Macduff,” he said, extending his arm with a rolling gesture towards the entrance.

  I led the way into the bar. It was dimly lit, and there was music blaring from the speakers. I could see an eager crowd gathering in front of the stage, waiting for Derek. We headed towards the crowd, and Rex lightly placed his hand on the small of my back to guide me, and a slight chill ran down my spine. We found a spot to stand near the back. The bodyguards sat near the back of the bar at a high table with a perfect view of the heir. I thought I could see Babs at the front of the crowd. I wondered if her blatant, keen approach with guys ever worked for her. Unfortunately for her, Derek was one of the guys who always wanted what he couldn’t have.

  “Perfect. I’ll grab us two pints,” he yelled into my ear, and he headed towards the bar. “Stay here, kitty.”

  “Okay,” I yelled back. I figured I had to force down a beer for the night. Not that I would want Rex to have to order one of my girly drinks in a bar like this. Why did all of the best tasting drinks have to have names like ‘Slippery Nipple’ or ‘Porn Star’? So a pint it was, then.

  Just as Derek came on stage, Rex returned with our drinks. The crowd went wild. I cheered along and clapped my hands high in the air.

  “Here you go,” Rex said leaning into me, and I felt his warm breath on my neck and hair. I felt another light tingling sensation course through my body.

  I smiled, grabbing the bottle of beer. Rex stood close beside me. The place was packed full of people, and I was sure he didn’t mind the lack of personal space between us.

  Derek spoke clearly into the microphone, “Thank you for coming to my show. I wrote this first song for someone special. I hope you like it.”

  Derek sat on the stool behind him, as he began to intricately fingerpick his acoustic guitar. The individual notes blended into a sound that was both beautiful and melancholy. He took a deep breath and softly sang, “When will she see… we can be together happily…”

  Oh no, was it the special song he wanted to show me yesterday? Did he write it about me? No, how could I flatter myself with a claim like that. There was no way to tell that it was about a specific person. I convinced myself to relax and enjoy the song.

  Derek continued to the chorus, raising his voice, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your sweet hair… I am your prince and I’ve always been there…”

  Sweet potato pie! The song was definitely about me. A feeling of alarm shot through my body. Rex was going to know it was about me and think there was something going on between me and Derek. I scanned the crowd to try to get a view of Rex with my peripheral vision. He looked completely oblivious. Maybe even a bit bored. It would all be fine, just as long as Derek didn’t start yelling out my name in the next verse.

  For the
most part, Derek had his eyes closed, but he would occasionally search the audience. When he saw me, our eyes locked in. His eyes were wide, and they were asking if I would be his, simply and earnestly. I couldn’t answer. I had to look away.

  Derek continued and finished the song. He really was an engaging performer. And very handsome. I was sure that every girl in the crowd was imagining themselves as Rapunzel right then. Any girl would be lucky to have him. He was strong, stable, and steady.

  I wondered if it was only in Hollywood movies where the girl always ended up with her best friend. Did that really happen in real life? After years of friendship, could you actually remove that barrier and see your best friend in a new light? My life was not a Hollywood movie by any means.

  When the song was over, everybody cheered and clapped. Derek smiled and squinted out at the audience, slightly blinded by the light. He looked over at me, and we both smiled. He would always have a special place in my heart.

  “Well, that was sappy and romantic,” Rex yelled at me through the cheers. “I thought you said he was a rocker.”

  “Haha, I don’t know what has gotten into him,” I laughed a little bit too hard, then started to blabber on. “I think he has gone crazy. I mean, those song lyrics were pretty crazy, right? Like, who sings about Rapunzel? That’s just clearly crazy, made-up, nonsense stuff.”

  Rex gave me a quizzical look like I was a madwoman, but then the next song started loudly and the crowd cheered again. We turned our attention to the stage as the guitar chords thundered throughout the bar. Phew, I thought I was safe. Good covering up, Rose. That was completely natural.

  FIFTEEN

  After the gig that night, the taxi took all four of us back downtown, and Rex and I sat on a bench on Larimer Street for a while before saying good night. Johnny and Clive said that they would go for a short walk downtown to give us some space, but I was sure that they were still watching us from a hidden window or from behind a tree.

  Rex put his arm around me, and I snuggled close to try to stay warm. The air was crisp, and our cheeks and noses were pink with cold. The sky was completely clear and black, and if you looked up, you could see the speckling of stars despite the bright city lights. Out of the whole world and galaxy, there was nowhere else I would have wanted to be.

  “So, next time I see you, are you going to cook me dinner?” he asked with a grin, and he put his other hand on my knee.

  “Ha! If you know what’s good for you, you won’t want to eat my cooking,” I replied honestly and put my hand over his.

  “Oh really? So you aren’t a domestic goddess?” he asked, half joking, but probably half disappointed that I wouldn’t ever be the wife to bring him breakfast in bed or cook a pot roast dinner on Sunday.

  “No way. I’m a singer. That’s what I do. Cooking is not my forte. Besides, do you think that Beyoncé ever has to cook? Come on. There are some household duties you can refuse when you are a superstar. Or when you’re as hot as that. Haven’t you ever heard of the ‘hot crazy matrix’?”

  “The hot crazy what?” he asked. The matrix obviously hadn’t made its way across the Atlantic yet.

  “The hot crazy matrix. There is a horizontal x axis labelled ‘hot’, and a vertical y axis labelled ‘crazy’. Within the graph, there are areas labelled as ‘no go zone’, ‘fun zone’, ‘date zone’, and ‘wife zone’. The premise is that the hotter the girl is, the crazier she is allowed to be, and guys will still date her.”

  “That is utter nonsense,” he replied. “So you are saying that you are so hot, you don’t have to cook, and you can be crazy?”

  “Something like that,” I friskily teased. “But for me, the vertical y axis should be labelled ‘lack of cooking skills’, not ‘crazy’. But who knows, if you play your cards right, I will treat you and whip up my speciality, Hamburger Helper.”

  “Oh my, I’m not sure I want to play my cards right, then!” he joked. “Luckily for you, I am an old-fashioned romantic who likes to treat his lady. You won’t need to be a slave in the kitchen with me.”

  “That’s alright by me,” I replied. “Do you really consider yourself a romantic?” Not many men these days would admit to that. Usually now was about the time my romantic interests would start the ‘I’m not looking for anything serious’ speech, just in case I let myself start to think he was a decent, different guy. Rex, however, was letting me fall into the fantasy.

  “Most definitely. I do believe in true love, and I do believe that once you have found that person, you should never let them go,” he said softly. “That is something my mum used to tell me.”

  “I see,” I said encouragingly, hoping that he would continue to open up and tell me more.

  “I realize now that it was a harder lesson for my dad to learn. I mean, when my mum was taken from us, he didn’t know what to do. She was the focus of his whole life. Did you know that he fell in love with her when he painted her portrait over 40 years ago? And he painted her portrait every year after until she was taken from us. I think he feels guilty for the way that the media hounded her and made her feel unsafe. I know he will never forgive himself for not being with her to protect her that night,” he said gently and sadly. “Now I know the importance of finding the right girl, treating her well, and not letting her slip away.”

  “Yes, that is good,” I said softly and squeezed his hand. “There must be an intense pressure for an heir like you to choose the right girl to marry.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” he said. “Especially since I am over 30 years old now,” he sighed. “Anyway, listen to me blathering on. Tell me about your parents.”

  “Oh, there isn’t much to say,” I said shyly. This was a topic that I didn’t normally talk about. This was one of the doors inside of me that I liked to keep closed. Rex, however, had been completely open and honest with me, and I felt like we had developed a bond. With his troubled past, I knew that he would understand my story. “My mom still lives in San Antonio, and I talk to her every day,” I smiled. “My dad… well, I haven’t seen him since I was six years old,” I said cautiously.

  “That is a shame,” Rex replied. “He is missing out on one very special girl.” He squeezed my hand.

  “It’s okay now. I try not to think about it. If anything, it has made me and my mom closer, and it helped me dive into music and find my true passion.” I didn’t want to seem overly dramatic, even though I was still hurt by it. He had experienced worse tragedies than me.

  “It still is really hard to lose a parent like that, Rose. It’s okay if you still feel upset by it,” he said kindly. “It is remarkable that you have been able to look on the bright side and put your energy into something as beautiful as your music.” He looked at me with his kind blue eyes, and I smiled.

  “I don’t normally talk about these things,” I admitted. “I find it hard sometimes to let people in and trust them. But I feel like I could share my life stories with you.”

  “I feel like I could share my life with you,” he quickly replied, and I snuggled further into his chest. He sure knew how to make me feel special. It was hard to believe that a week ago, I thought he was a spoiled, pompous, and arrogant twit, and now I knew he was a kind-hearted, caring, and romantic gentleman. I looked up and met his eyes. I wondered if he could also feel the warm electric current between us. I thought he might kiss me then, but he didn’t, and that was fine too. When you meet the right person, there was absolutely no need to rush when there was no end in sight.

  SIXTEEN

  I woke up the next morning to texts from my mom, Derek, and Rex.

  My mom texted: “How is everything coming together for your album release?”

  Derek texted: “Did you enjoy the show last night?”

  Rex texted: “Can I take you for dinner tonight?”

  I sat up in bed and tucked my duvet to the side of my body. Time to reply to the early morning text interrogation.

  I replied to my mom: “It’s going great, Ma! I have
another radio interview in a few days to promote the show, and I wrote the lyrics to my last song. I finished recording it last week. Can’t wait to see you at my show!”

  To Derek: “It was an amazing show! Your best performance yet.”

  To Rex: “Sure.”

  I always read that it was best to text as little as possible to guys you like. When they asked you out, you should only reply with “Sure”, rather than listing all the dates and times you were available. Let him ask. Let him chase. He wanted to.

  I thought it would be nice to go for dinner with Rex. I wanted to ask questions to get to know him better. Besides our chat on the bench last night, it seemed like we were just “having a laugh”, as he would say. I needed to remember to ask him why he was in Denver, what he plans to do while during his stay, and when he has to return to England. That seemed like a bit of an interrogation itself though. I had to remember to space out the questions and act carefree. It’s not like I was planning the rest of his trip together, or our future wedding.

  I waffled between wanting to know more about him and wanting to stay blind enough to carry on as we were. I enjoyed his company, and I hadn’t felt a connection like this for a long time. Usually only music could stir up these electric feelings inside of me. I decided that it was best not to let him know my feelings. Before long, he would be flying back home to his real life – filled with pampering, palaces, and plenty of women. I couldn’t continue to fall for him. In the end, all men leave.

  In high school, I had never dated because I was so shy. Things started to change after I became more confident and comfortable in my own skin after graduation. I must have blossomed overnight, because suddenly, there was a steady stream of guys who were interested in me. These relationships never seemed to make it past the six month point, however. I wasn’t sure what it was, but around that time, invariably, the guy would say something hurtful, do something selfish, or try to make me jealous, and I had to walk away. I was more like a ‘one strike and you’re out’ kind of girl, which was unfortunate for the longevity of my relationships. With the guys that I dated, once they made one false move, I was gone. Their name was blackened forever as far as I was concerned. I knew that relationships would always have quarrels and arguments, but I hadn’t met a guy yet who was worth fighting with or fighting for. Deep down, I knew that these patterns could mean that I had troubles with letting people in. There were certain doors that I kept closed after my father left, and I didn’t want to re-open them and get re-injured.