by F. T. Zele
Excited it’s the weekend, I’m finally getting a moment to myself since I finished all my contracts at work for this month and didn’t bring any work home for a change. It’s time for some fun the way I like it—indulging in junk food and aimlessly wandering around the local square for some shopping.
Once I’ve finished getting ready, I head out, knowing my first stop has to be Jolly Donuts. There has never been a time a donut has let me down. I have relied on those sugary bastards to keep me going for some time now. Like I said, it’s Junk Food Binge Weekend, and I plan on making the most out of it.
I get a whole dozen in those cute pink boxes, so I can keep myself stocked when I’m home. When I’m back at my car, I hop inside and make my way over to the square. I carefully place a napkin in my lap and waste no time digging in. Once the filling hits my lips, I feel my tension melt away. I hardly care if the people driving next to me see me pigging out. This is all about me today.
At the local square, I jump out with a little more pep in my step. Maybe it’s the sugar, or maybe it’s the way I feel weightless today, floating along like nothing can get to me finally. The storm already hit, twice. Keeping this positive outlook is becoming easier every day, and I’m finally starting to see a shimmering light at the end of this long-lasting tunnel I have been slowly crawling out of.
Once I’m positive I can’t fit any more bags on my arms, I walk back to the parking lot and call it a day. My phone beeps, and I pull it out, reading a new text from Sophie.
Sophie: Can I know about Braxton today?
Laughing at her persistence, I ignore this one for a bit longer, letting her mull around until she comes barging to my house wanting to know everything. She seems to think if I’m not saying anything I’m hiding something. There really isn’t anything to hide.
“Liz?” I hear a man’s voice call from behind me. I turn and find Braxton walking toward me. Shit! I walk to him, closing the distance between us.
“Hey, did you miss me that much from last night you had to get your following on early today?” I chuckle, while pretending to be serious. Nighttime and his suits really look good on him, but seeing him casual in the daytime is a whole other story. His usual styled hair is free without gel holding it in place. The medium-brown tone combined with the smooth texture is appealing, and I’m fighting the urge to reach out and touch it.
“You caught me. I loved being turned down so much last night, I thought I would come back for another round of it.” A brief moment of sadness passes in his eyes, and what I find upsetting is that my insecurities are to blame for it.
“I’m sorry, but you aren’t my type. That’s what it was about.” Being honest is killing me, but I look him dead in the eye, hoping it will make him realize that it’s true.
“You don’t even know me. How do you know I’m not your type?” he challenges me as he steps nearer.
“This right here. Intimidatingly close, like you’re begging me to say different, when all you’re doing is proving my point even more.”
“Come with me. Help me pick out some stuff for my new house. I need a woman’s touch. I mean, I could hire someone to do that for me, but this could be fun. Just as friends. Please?”
“Why do I not believe you? You’re the one who said you designed everything in your bars. I think you’re fine on your own. But nice seeing you again.” I try to walk away, begging my legs to go, but I can’t make myself leave.
“It’ll be fun, I promise. Friends?”
“Okay, fine! Sheesh, you can stop your begging. Where to first?” I ask with my arms crossed.
“Just one stop first before we can go. You trust me?” Extending his hand, he wants me to grab it. I don’t, though. Instead, I walk past him.
“No, I don’t, but this should be interesting.” He catches up and walks next to me. We head to the parking lot, and he stops behind a sleek new white Mercedes, hitting the remote and unlocking the doors.
“Let’s go.” He opens the door for me. I pause, cautious to get into the car with him.
“Where are we going?”
“Come on. It’ll be fun. No questions, no thinking.”
I give in and slide onto the tan leather seats. The new car smell is strong, and there isn’t a fingerprint or smudge anywhere. Braxton hops inside and buckles up. He pushes a button on the dash, and the car comes to life and talks. I’ve never seen or heard anything like it.
“Good afternoon, Braxton. Where would you like to go?” a sleek robotic female voice booms through the speakers. I can’t help but giggle.
Braxton hits a button, stopping the voice commands and begins to drive, not giving me any clue as to where we’re going. Nervous, I start picking at my nails. I would say this is the most spontaneous thing I have done in a while, but the truth is, it would be ever. The panic that sets in when I’m not in control of what’s going on can bring me to my knees and cause me to self-destruct.
“Are you nervous? You keep picking at your nails over there. Just relax.”
“I’m good. I just hate not knowing what’s going on. I like to have control over situations.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to be in control throughout your life. Just try to hang on and enjoy the ride.” As the words leave his lips, he hits the gas, throwing me back into my seat. I grip the handle on the door tightly, turning my knuckles white. I think he did that to prove his point, but if he wants to play games, he can go for it. I’ll just sit here while I prove my point to myself even more. That he is not my type. As it stands, I don’t even know how I ended up in his car.
About fifteen minutes later, we pull into a circular driveway with a huge fountain in the middle. I look out my window, and my eyes take in the house, an amazing two-story contemporary sitting back on the lot that looks like it could be featured in an architectural magazine. The outside is smooth, gray stucco, and every corner is a perfect line. The windows are solid glass without trim, creating a sleek, even appearance against the outside walls. The front yard is spacious, and there are workers installing fresh, dark-green grass.
“Is this your house?” I ask, completely in awe of this incredible house.
“Yep, they just finished it last week. They’re still working on the landscaping, but the inside is done. Come on. Let me show you.” He jumps out of the car before I can get my seat belt off. Rounding my side, he opens the door with enthusiasm. He seems to be proud of his new home. Frankly, I would be, too.
“Thank you. So, this is your place. It’s really beautiful.” My eyes widen, taking in every part of this amazing house.
“Wait until you see the inside.” He digs the keys out of his pocket, flipping key after key over to find the one that will unlock the door.
Once he unlocks the door and we walk inside, to say I’m speechless is an understatement. I look around in amazement that this is where he lives.
“You designed this yourself?”
“Yeah, you like?” The look in his eyes tells me he’s looking for some sort of approval. Who am I to approve? He did a great job incorporating every idea he had. There is no mistaking the fact this is his work.
“I do. I just don’t understand why you think you needed help getting the inside done. Seems like you have it figured out already.”
“Well, maybe. You wouldn’t see me again outside of the bar, so this was my best option. See, I can be harmless,” he says with his hands in the air, showing me he isn’t going to push for things.
“Show me around?”
“Gladly.” As we start walking, he points out rooms and certain parts of the house. The rooms couldn’t be any more different from one another, but with their sleekness, they all blend together without much effort. He gives an explanation to everything he designed, and I feel like I could spend all the time in the world here and never finish seeing everything. It’s astonishing.
After about an hour, we have toured the house and the full lot, and I think we have seen it all, so we walk back
to the front of the house.
“So, where do you think we should go to find some stuff that will complement the house?” Braxton asks.
“Well, I have some ideas, but it’s your house. I really think you know what you’re looking for.” There might have been some hidden meaning behind that last statement, but I can’t help but get caught up in the mood I’m feeling.
“I don’t know what I’m looking for. That’s the problem. No matter how much I search, I can’t seem to find it. But with you around, I feel like I can finally find what I’ve been looking for.”
It’s hard to tell if he’s talking about the house or something more specific. I choose not to look too far into it, finally letting myself feel things for once without overthinking, and it’s nice. We lock up the house and head back to the car with only one mission in sight—find stuff for his place.
I have to push aside everything I may be feeling. I don’t know what’s come over me, but it’s hard to think around him. I’m conflicted over everything that’s happening. I’ve never made the time for anybody to be nice to me since the accident, and the second Braxton is, I get these intense feelings pumping through my body that I might be all right, that there’s hope.
I crash back to my reality when I realize he knows nothing about me, and the feeling I get when I think about having to tell a stranger my story gets the best of me. I now know there won’t be that grand moment when I lay all my cards out onto the table for him to either play or fold. I have spent way too long feeling vulnerable, and I can’t imagine feeling like that again.
“Where are we off to now, or is that a secret, too?” I can see he likes to challenge my weaknesses already. It’s like he can sense what goes on in my head.
“We’re going downtown to the arts district. I’m thinking maybe we can find some funky things there. What kind of music do you listen to?” When he looks over to me, with one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift, and the sun shining through the driver’s window, his profile stands out. He didn’t shave today. The stubble on his face makes him look rough around the edges, but in a good way.
When he shifts the gear, the muscles in his arm tighten, and I imagine his strong arms around me, holding me. Trying to shake the images from my head, I answer his question about music. A distraction would be great right about now.
“I like really loud music! You pick. It’s your car.” I hope he puts on something that will distract me. Music is something I know. I can tell what kind of person you are by the music you listen to. I watch as he scrolls through his mp3 player. Because he’s not picking a song fast enough, I grab it from his hand and look through it myself, laughing at some of the music I see. Finding one of my favorite songs on his list, I highlight it and hand it back to him. “This one, and make it loud.”
“You asked for it. Hold on, because this isn’t a standard stereo, and you picked a song I use to make the bass vibrate the ladies’ panties off.” He plugs it in and hits a button. I’m sure he doesn’t need to do much to get the girls to drop their panties. They might even combust from his sexy smile alone.
The music comes to life, and by the strength of the vibrations, I’m almost certain he has a speaker placed under the passenger seat, thinking he’s slick and can get that one past any girl, but not someone so inquisitive like me, though. It actually feels like I’m sitting in one of the massage chairs when I get a pedicure, but not so relaxing when the music is accompanying it.
Once we park in the lot and are getting ready to get out of the car, he looks over to me. His cocky smile is in place, and I brace myself for whatever smug comment is about to come out of his mouth.
“Was that loud enough for you? I’m thinking no because your panties are still on.”
Just like I thought—arrogant— but since I’m truly having a great time, I’ll give him a pass on that one. He has completely kept my dark thoughts at bay, and it’s a mission in its own, but the day isn’t over, so I won’t get my hopes up.
“I’m sure the people on the other side of the world heard it. Panties are still in check, though. Better luck next time,” I sass before I open the door. I think he can stand a little hit to his ego. I don’t think it would do any harm anyway.
“Well, my choice when we get back in the car later. Let’s go check out this place, and then find something to eat. I’m getting hungry.”
When he mentions food, I start to think about eating a meal with him and if that constitutes as a date. I really didn’t plan on that.
“Friends have dinner together all the time. Your face gave you away. Just go with it today. I promise I’ll be a gentleman.” Locking his car, he starts walking away from me.
“I wasn’t thinking that,” I lie. “I’m having a good time.” Trailing behind him, I think to myself, Do I really have everything written all over my face? I make a mental note to be careful not to show too much emotion. I can make an ass out of myself alone, so I don’t need his help by pointing things out. We make our way into the alleys that are lined with little shops, stopping when something catches our eye. I feel the most relaxed I have in the last two years.
Friends, I can do. I hope.
A week has gone by since I was ambushed into going shopping with Braxton. Well, maybe not ambushed. I was curious, but in my defense, I did try my hardest to shut him down. There’s something about him that makes it difficult to say no. I will say being with him wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I’m still not convinced he isn’t egotistical, but maybe not as much as I thought before.
After we left his house, we went to the arts district, going from store to store looking for things that would fit well inside his house. He was on his best behavior with me, never getting out of line and always being friendly. I never felt uncomfortable, which is a good thing, because I really had a great time.
He made it easy to just be me. I laughed more than I have in a long time, and it was nice to have the company of someone who doesn’t know my past and only wants to try to play Fairy Godmother with my life.
I have tried to avoid places I think he’ll be, which is everywhere. I don’t want to get too comfortable with him and then get letdown. I would rather have the one good memory. I’ve gone to work every day and had Sophie over for wine at my house a couple of times. I may or may have not slowed down to a crawling speed while driving by The Hudson on my way to and from work. She has been disappointed in me for not going out, and I’m sure she wants to see Hottie McHottie bartender. Since I know her so well, I know she’s seeing him other times. I still haven’t worked that information from her. I try not to pry, knowing how much I hate when she is determined to get information out of me.
I have gotten a new membership at a gym with a trainer, because who am I fooling? Trying to get healthy by myself was a complete disaster when I went for a run around my block. Even though I hate admitting it, I do, in fact, need help with this one, so I’m not found on the curb passed out for overexerting myself.
Sophie and I have joined forces with this whole tightening the abs mission. She got a gym membership as well, and although I’m sure she just wants to look around at all the man-candy, we get to spend a little more time together not at a bar. My liver will thank me later.
I grab my ear buds and gym bag and head out of the house to meet Sophie for our appointment with the trainer. Once I arrive at the gym, I find her car and park next to it, hop out, and walk briskly to the front doors before I can talk myself out of going. I feel the intimidation build as a group of fit girls come walking out of the gym wearing their sports bras and showing off their amazing tight stomachs and hip-hugging pants I could have sworn were painted on. I walk a little faster in search of Sophie, thinking That is what I want to look like.
Turning the intimidation into motivation, I walk with a little more force, determined not to quit this time. I know once I feel better about myself, I will start to feel better about other parts of my life, and I’m willing to start anywhere right now.
“Liz, have you seen the men in here? I might as well live here. This is going to be so much fun.” Her eyes are scanning every direction, and I swear I can see the ideas forming in her head.
“We’re here to work out, not pick up guys. Focus! Plus, aren’t you seeing Tyler now?”
“Are you seeing Braxton?” she counters. I brush it off like I don’t hear her.
“That’s it, ignore me. So, am I right?”
“You couldn’t be any more wrong. I’m not seeing anybody,” I state as I follow the trainer through the various machines with Sophie trailing behind.
“Liz, Braxton’s here!”
I quickly turn around, looking for him. “Where?” I still don’t see him.
“See, I knew there was something going on between you two. Your face says it all,” she says through her uncontrollable laughing.
That bitch!
I wouldn’t be surprised if he did work out here, considering he pretty much follows me everywhere. I roll my eyes, thinking about how he always ends up wherever I am. Maybe I end up wherever he is, but that’s not the point. It’s not intentional, anymore.
“Look, I’ve already told you. We went out as friends only. He needed my help, and I helped him. That’s it. Now give it a rest and let’s start.”
“All right, all I’m saying is guys don’t just ask women to help decorate their houses if they didn’t want a reminder of them around.”
I dart my eyes to her, wanting to halt this conversation. It doesn’t matter anyway. He hasn’t even made an attempt to contact me since we exchanged numbers. Maybe he just really wanted a woman’s touch, so it would be a little homier in his new place.