In Jacob's Arms

by Alicia Rades

  She rises from my bed. “Well, you should be. You two make a great couple.”

  I wonder exactly how she knows this when she’s never seen the two of us together.

  “Well, I hope you have a bit more to tell me next time,” she says as she leaves the room.

  Later when I go to bed, I’m once again unable to put the daydreams about Saturday out of my mind. What are we going to do? Where is he going to take me?

  Friday passes in a way that almost mirrors my Thursday, except that I head to yoga class in the morning. My nerves are still alive and well, but I try not to let them get to me. Today, I’m a bit more in tune with my body, and I let myself relax.

  When I get home from my morning yoga session, I sit down at my computer, once again staring at it without touching the keyboard for quite some time. My mind is a bit more productive today but still not back to normal, and after several minutes, I dive into my work, trying desperately not to get sidetracked.

  My attempts fail when the doorbell rings around 2:00. I jump, surprised at the noise. I’m not expecting anyone. I walk to the door and open it. Staring back at me is a stunning bouquet of yellow roses. The delivery many behind them is looking down at a piece of paper and simply says, “Siobhan Spencer,” although he struggles to pronounce my name properly.

  “Yeah, that’s me.” My confusion bleeds through into the tone of my voice, and the man hands me the flowers. Looking up for the first time, his eyes scan my face, and his expression brightens.

  He’s a short, plump man with a mustache and round features. He reminds me of what you’d label as the stereotypical plumber, not a flower delivery guy.

  “You look really familiar,” he says.

  “People tell me that all the time.” I try to make my statement sound nonchalant. “I must have one of those faces.”

  “No,” he says, shaking his pen at me as if the answer is on the tip of his tongue. “You’re Celina, aren’t you?”

  God, I hate when people call me Celina.

  “No,” I reply. “I played her in a movie.”

  “Are you still acting?”

  “No,” I tell him. “I haven’t acted since I was seven.” Letting him take this in, I turn back into the apartment with my flowers and close the door behind me. I know I was rude to him, but I’ve experienced this encounter far too many times to care.

  My frustration doesn’t last long because in my hands sits the most beautiful bouquet of roses. Attached to them is a hand-written note that reads:

  Looking forward to our second date.

  -Jacob

  The butterflies in my stomach dance as my heart flutters, and soon I feel the sensation throughout my whole body. I press the flowers to my nose and take a nice long whiff. They smell wonderful. I take this moment in because it’s the first time that anyone has ever sent me flowers as a romantic gesture.

  I head to the kitchen and find a vase under the sink. I return to my bedroom and place the yellow bouquet on my computer desk with the note facing me.

  I beam. This guy really is incredible.

  For the rest of the day, I’m unproductive because I can’t stop stealing glances at the flowers. Right now, I’m cursing myself for never getting Jacob’s number. I want to call him and thank him for the flowers.

  When I’m ready for bed, I find it hard to sleep, unable to stop fantasizing about the day to come. Are there more romantic surprises in store for me? Finally, I drift off to sleep, and I dream of hazel eyes.

  9

  My eyes shoot open, and I can’t see anything. For a moment, I’m disoriented, but after my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realize I’m still in my bedroom. I look at the clock. It’s 5:30 a.m.

  I want to go back to sleep, but as I roll over and close my eyes, I find it challenging. I am wide awake. Failing at my numerous attempts to fall back asleep, I push the covers away and crawl out of bed. I’ve been fighting my body for 17 minutes now without success. I am simply too excited for today to let myself sleep.

  Knowing that I have plenty of time on my hands, I fire up my computer. Once on, I check my email, scroll through Facebook, and tend to my Twitter account. I check my blog comments and reply to people, and I’m very satisfied with the responses I’ve received about love. I’m a bit disappointed to find out that some of my readers don’t believe in it, but the commenters who have truly experienced love greatly outweigh this negative feedback, and I become increasingly hopeful.

  When I’ve exhausted all my duties online, I look at the clock again. It’s 6:42. I went through that way too fast. Ten o’clock can’t get here soon enough.

  I close my laptop and make my way to the kitchen. As I’m pouring myself a bowl of cereal, Juliet exits her bedroom.

  “You’re up early,” I tell her.

  “So are you,” she accuses.

  “Not really. I get up earlier than this three times per week to go to yoga.”

  “Couldn’t sleep?” she asks me.

  “Not really.”

  Juliet enters the kitchen and reaches into the cupboard, pulling out a cereal bowl for herself. She stares at me with her embarrassing smile again. “Siobhan’s got a date,” she sings.

  I blush. “Shut up,” I say, unable to hide my smile.

  “You really like him,” she teases. “You know, I read your blog post. You really do like him. It’s obvious.”

  I roll my eyes at her. Ten o’clock really can’t come any sooner.

  I eat my cereal quickly so that I don’t have to deal with Juliet’s teasing for long. Once I’m done, I wash my bowl and return to my room. Shutting my door, I simply stand there for what seems like forever. What can I do to kill the time?

  First, I shower, and I take my sweet time, but when I get back to my bedroom, I’m shocked to see that it’s only 7:03. I feel as if some magical force is slowing down time just to fuck with me. I check my phone just to make sure the clock in my room isn’t broken. Nope, it’s still 7:03.

  I head over to my mirror, and I’m stunned when I see myself. This girl looking back at me is happy. As I think about Jacob and my smile widens, I feel my face burning. I notice that there’s actually color to it and that my symmetrical dimples are now visible. I look good, and today, I don’t criticize my reflection.

  I dance around my room like a teenage girl, although there’s no music to swing my hips to. Despite this, I let my body flail as I sing in my head. I can’t hide how thrilled I am even though I’m in solitude. When I finish my happy dance, I catch one more glimpse of myself in the mirror. I am radiant.

  I don’t know what to do to kill the time, so I spend about an hour experimenting with my hair, another good chunk of time on my makeup, and eternity picking out my outfit for the day.

  When I’m done, my hair is piled atop my head in an elegant updo with my bangs framing my face. I put on my fanciest pair of jean shorts with a multi-colored flowing tank top to match. Since I’m not sure what we’re doing and I hope it’s casual, I finish off my ensemble with my light blue converse. My makeup is simple, just bright enough to add a natural glow to my face, and I’m satisfied with my casual date look.

  I set out a fancier outfit so that I can change quickly in case Jacob shows up in more elegant attire, but I’m hoping that I won’t have to. I’m comfortable in what I’m in, and I hope we’re not going anywhere fancy this early in the day.

  When I’m done preparing myself, I look at the clock again. 9:08. I still have an hour. I head out into the living room and notice that Juliet is already gone. I’m not surprised since she does have a life of her own, but a brief sense of loneliness passes over me as I wait for 10:00 to arrive.

  Twiddling my thumbs, I turn on the TV to kill time, but I can’t seem to pay attention to it. Instead, my eyes study the second hand as it ticks around the clock above the TV. As 10:00 nears, I become even more nervous.

  Once 10:00 hits, I’m so excited that I leap from the couch and jump up and down in the privacy of my apartment. I’m anxious fo
r him to get here, and when the doorbell rings at precisely 10:03, my heart swoons. I know I’m acting like a teenage girl, but I don’t care right now. I have a second date with Jacob Bishop.

  I grab my purse, take a deep breath to calm my shaking body, and answer the door.

  I’m grateful that Jacob has also dressed casual in a perfectly-sized light grey t-shirt that displays his biceps gloriously, a pair of khaki shorts, and tennis shoes. Thank God I don’t have to change and we can enjoy a casual day out together.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “Ready,” I say. I exit the apartment, closing and locking the door behind me.

  As we walk down the hall, he gently places his hand around my waist, and with a small tug, he pulls me close, bends down, and kisses the side of my lips. I melt.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “It’s a surprise,” he tells me, and it makes my heart flutter. I smile up at him.

  10

  When we make it to the base of the building, we exit into sunlight and clear skies. The air is a bit warm, but it’s pleasant. Jacob waves down a taxi, and we climb in. He leans forward and tells the driver our destination, but I don’t hear what he says. I don’t care where he takes me right now. I’m just happy to be next him, so close that I can feel the warmth of his body on my skin. It’s a comforting feeling.

  Jacob leans back onto the seat and looks me in the eyes, smiling. “Are you ready to have some fun?” he asks rhetorically.

  “Yes,” I reply anyway, trying not to let my enthusiasm show through too much into my voice. I am beyond excited to be sharing my Saturday with him, and I am even more eager to get back to kissing him. The other night was simply thrilling, and I can’t wait to share a moment like that with him again.

  He grabs my hand and entwines his fingers through mine. “Good.” My stomach flutters, and seeing my approval, he pulls his hand from mine and puts his arm around me, pulling me in close to his chest. I can smell him again, and I secretly steal long inhales so that I can take in his scent. He smells wonderful, like clean laundry and sexy man. It turns me on a bit.

  After a few moments, I look up at him. “Thank you for the flowers.”

  “No problem,” he grins.

  Mentioning the flowers, it reminds me about asking for his phone number, and confidently, I do. We exchange cell phones and put our numbers in each other’s phones. I hand his back. He fiddles with it for a moment before placing it back in his pocket. He then pulls me into him again, and I’m comfortable as my head rests on his shoulder.

  A few seconds later, my phone buzzes, and I check it. It’s a simple text from Jacob that says, “Hi.”

  I narrow my eyes at him in humor. He smiles back and laughs.

  On the rest of the ride, we play the questions game again, trying to really get to know and understand each other, and although I know we’ve been in the taxi for a while, the ride ends far too soon.

  I haven’t been watching where we were going, and when I look up, I realize that we’ve escaped the tall buildings. In front of us spans a vast lawn dotted with people, and I can see the water covering the landscape beyond the grass. But that’s not the only thing I notice. Rising up from the lawn is a beautiful wheel that towers above all the people.

  A Ferris wheel. He’s taking me on a God-damn Ferris wheel ride. My mind silently fist-pumps.

  “You said the other night that you weren’t afraid of heights,” he says, confirming that I’m okay with this.

  “No,” I tell him, not taking my eyes off the magnificent structure. “I’m not.” My jaw practically drops in amazement. I’ve never been on a Ferris wheel with a guy before, and the thought seems very romantic. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world right now.

  We exit the taxi, and he pays the driver. Together, we cross the lawn and make our way to the giant wheel that rises above us.

  Jacob hands the guy at the wheel some money, and in exchange, he receives a long string of tickets. He rips a few tickets off the string and returns them to the guy, and when the Ferris wheel comes to a stop, we’re gestured into our seat.

  I’m still awe-struck, and when we crawl into our seat, Jacob’s arm returns to its rightful position around my shoulder. My body eases, and I’m glad that I don’t have to beg for him to embrace me.

  The Ferris wheel moves, and we’re transported to the top where it stops to let on more passengers. Up here, the view is exquisite. We’re high, and the people below us look like ants. The sun reflects off the water as well as the brilliant sky scrapers, and the sky is clear blue, creating a picturesque scene.

  I am so caught up in the romance of the moment, with his arm around me and the beautiful city surrounding us, that I don’t want to break the silence. Jacob, however, doesn’t read my telepathic message.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Simply spectacular,” I agree, and we share with each other our favorite aspects of the scenery.

  I enjoy the way the sun gleams of the skyscrapers, and Jacob loves how far we can see the blue sky span.

  The Ferris wheel begins to move again, and the soft swing of our cradle, coupled with the comfort I find in Jacob’s embrace, soothes me. I don’t want to get off this Ferris wheel any time soon. It’s serene here, and I don’t want this moment to end.

  After only rotating the wheel a few times, the guy controlling the ride stops it to let us off, but Jacob simply rips off more tickets and hands them to the guy. He lets us to continue. We do this until all our tickets are gone.

  “This is incredible,” I say, allowing him to see my fascination. “The city is so . . . artistic.”

  Jacob agrees, and our conversation moves toward our shared captivation in the city’s architecture.

  I’m a bit disappointed when we run out of tickets, but I don’t want to have to pay for more, so we exit the ride. The Ferris wheel isn’t the only exciting thing here, though. There’s a path that runs along the water with various vendors lined up on each side. Jacob grabs my hand, and together we explore the place.

  My eyes first fall upon a cotton candy vendor, and I race up to the window.

  “Cotton candy? Awesome,” Jacob nods his head in approval.

  “One cotton candy, please,” I order at the window, and the young man, probably still in high school, grabs a stick from the pile and twirls it around the cotton candy machine until a sugar cloud forms.

  “That’ll be $5,” the boy says.

  Jacob reaches for his wallet. “I’ve got this one,” I stop him, and I pull out a $5 bill. Jacob doesn’t argue with me, and I am impressed that he allows me make my own decisions. It makes me like him even more, and in this moment, I know that he is no Christian Grey or Edward Cullen. He is something far more spectacular.

  Once we make our way from the vendor, I pull off a wad of cotton candy and place it in my mouth. It melts deliciously on my tongue, and it reminds me of the kiss Jacob and I shared the other night. God, I want to kiss him like that again. I offer him some, and he accepts with a smile.

  I watch as he places his wad of cotton in his mouth, and I am desperately wishing that I was that piece of cotton candy right now. I want to touch his lips and taste his tongue, but I have too much self-control. I curse myself for that. Why can’t I just have him right here and now?

  Once we’re finished and have licked our fingers clean, I throw the stick away in a nearby bin. When I look up, there’s a photo booth staring back at me.

  I don’t have to ask Jacob if he wants a photo with me. I simply walk up to the booth, and he follows. I let myself in first, and then, trying to be sexy, I grab onto his shirt and pull him in after me. His eyes widen in surprise.

  He closes the curtain behind us, and we giggle together as we plant a long, hard kiss on each other’s lips. I’m transported to an entirely different place, floating above the city, higher than the Ferris wheel. His lips are so soft against mine, and the feeling I get within my chest as my heart rate increases leaves my body
shaking. I’m completely captivated by this man.

  We pull away from each other, and the kiss is over. I’m disappointed, but I know we didn’t come into the photo booth to make out.

  I feed a few dollars into the machine, and we choose the settings that we want. We have four shots, and I want desperately to make them count.

  I’m laughing, fully enjoying myself. “What poses should we do?”

  “I don’t know,” he laughs back at me. The timer is already ticking for our first shot. “Say cheese,” he orders as the flash goes off, and I grin along with him. My grin spreads so far across my face that my eye lids press together hard.

  There are only a few seconds in between shots. “Silly faces!” I suggest, and I cross my eyes and puff out my cheeks as he scrunches his face up and sticks his tongue out. The flash goes off.

  “Mustaches,” I say as I place my pointer finger above my upper lip, and he follows along, smiling into the camera. Snap. The camera captures our photo.

  For the last one, I make it extra special, and just a moment before the camera flashes, I quickly and forcefully pull Jacob into me and plant a hard kiss on his lips. After the camera flashes, I pull away, beaming. He returns the smile.

  We have to wait several minutes for our photos to develop, but we’re soon presented with our snapshots.

  I look them over, and I’m very pleased. When I get to the last one, I let out a loud laugh and throw my head back. In it, Jacob’s eyes are wide with surprise, and it’s clear that I’ve caught him off-guard.

  Since we received two copies of our photos, I hand one to him. He looks them over and chuckles, and then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pen. He flips over the photo strip and presses it against the wall of the photo booth and writes something on the back.

  He hands it to me and takes the other one from my hand, depositing that one in his wallet. I look at the back of it.

  I hope you had as much fun as I did!

  -Jacob