by Anita Claire
Huffing she says, “My mom wants me to come over and help her throw out a bunch of stuff.”
“You look good, just unusually casual; you almost pass for a local.”
She frowns. “This place is getting to me, I need to move to a real city before I totally revert back to little miss burbs.”
“You’ll give me some notice before you make your move, right? I don’t want to come home one day and find out I’m back to living at my parents.”
“Yes, Juliette, I’ll give you some notice. I just need to move my activities up to San Francisco, so I can meet someone up there.”
“I take it things with Luke aren’t going well?”
“They’re fine. He likes to have a pretty girl on his arm, and I like having a hot rich guy on mine. But is this going to last long? No, as soon as I meet someone better, I’m gone.”
Reflecting how mercenary Cassie is, I realize that if I felt like that about a guy, I would be breaking up with him. It makes me wonder why she feels the need to keep him around.
Checking the time, I note that Nate won’t be here for an hour. Plopping myself on the couch, I feel relieved when Cassie leaves.
The doorbell rings at about noon. Excitedly, I answer it.
Nate is standing there with his arms crossed and a friendly smile on his face. He’s wearing casual shoes, jeans, and a Henley that fits tight enough to show off his nice upper body. He’s much more buff than I originally thought. Initially, I thought he was stocky, now I realize he must lift weights along with hockey and MMA. Or maybe those sports give him big bulky muscles. Some chest hair escapes from the top of his shirt giving him a sexy look. He just exudes masculinity, damn; I thought I was one hundred percent on team Zach. Just seeing Nate makes me start to question that belief.
Catching him looking me up and down, and then back up, he stops at my eyes. Smiling, I ask him inside. As he enters I say, “Can you give me an idea of where we’re going? I’m not sure what shoes or jacket to bring?”
“I haven’t been to San Francisco in ages. It might be fun to go up there and be tourists. Do you have to be home at any time?”
“My sister’s in town, I spent Thursday and Friday with her and my parents. I think it’s cool if I take off for the day, so no plans.”
He raises his eyebrows. “What do you need to do to get ready?”
Holding up my index finger, I say, “Give me a minute or two.” Running back to my room, I pull on a pair of comfortable boots for walking and grab my leather jacket. Looking in my mirror, I apply a little lip-gloss. Heading back out to the living room, Nate has his arms crossed over his chest and is staring at the wall size mural of Cassie that graces our dining room. Feeling a tinge of fear, I wonder if he has a crush on her and he’s dating me as a way for them to meet.
Entering the room, I put on a smile and say, “Hey.”
He turns around and appraises me again with his eyes. Pointing with his thumb over his shoulder at Cassie’s mural he says, “Don’t you think it’s weird that she has such a big picture of herself hanging in the dining room?”
My smile now reaches my eyes. “Not at all. There’s one of me in the kitchen. We had them done at the mall on two-for-one Tuesday.”
He barks out a laugh, and then shakes his head. Nodding at her picture he continues, “That has got high maintenance written all over it.”
Laughing I say, “Yes, that would be an accurate assumption. But no one goes out with Cassie looking for low maintenance.”
He nods, and then asks. “You ready?”
Feeling paranoid by that remark I ask, “Do I not look ready?”
He chuckles. “You look great; it’s just that it took you about two minutes. I only thought guys got ready that fast.”
Was that a compliment or an insult, I wonder? Realizing it’s not worth the energy to figure it out, I announce, “Let’s leave.”
Locking up, we start walking down the front steps. Nate casually places his hand on my lower back as he points to an older looking navy blue Jeep Wrangler. He walks me to the passenger door, opening it. It’s surprisingly clean and empty. He then walks around to the driver’s side.
Not able to hold back my thoughts, I say, “Wow, this car doesn’t look like it just took an eighteen-hour trip.”
Nate smiles as he starts the car and heads over to the freeway. “You should have seen it yesterday. I just came from getting it detailed. My sister isn’t so thrilled to have all my crap in her garage.”
Steering Nate to take 280 instead of 101, we head up to San Francisco.
“Four wheel drive; I guess that came in handy in Minnesota.”
“It came in handy a lot; it also came in handy when I’d head up north.”
“What do you do up north with a four wheel drive?”
He flashes me a look with his sexy blue eyes. “Camp, hike, fish, hunt, and ski.”
“Oh, so you’re a real outdoorsy kind of guy. I thought you were more of a football, baseball, basketball type.”
“That too.”
“When do you have time to do all these sports and outdoor kinds of stuff?”
“Unfortunately, I never have enough time to do any of it. When I have some free time I want to take off and do whatever is available. What about you? I know you play soccer. Anything else?”
“In the morning, I alternate running and swimming. After work, I alternate fencing with soccer. Now that soccer season is over, I need to figure out another indoor winter sport.”
“You just need shooting and horse jumping and you can be a modern pentathlete.
“I just need shooting; I already jump horses, just not in the dark.”
Flashing me another look, he says, “Really, so have you ever competed?”
Chuckling, I respond, “You need to shoot and be good at each sport. It’s not like being a triathlete where there’s a competition almost every weekend, and you just need to finish. Pentathlons are much more popular in Europe, I guess if I lived there I might have considered learning to shoot.”
“So, you’ve considered it?”
“Well, you’re not the first person to notice my choice in sports and ask about modern pentathlons. My strongest sports are fencing and horse jumping so that’s beneficial, since swimming and running tend to be the typical favorites. It’s just you need to have time to really train in all five sports, and you need to compete at a high level in all of them, since there aren’t that many events to train for.”
“Yeah, I can see you’ve checked it out.” He says with an appraising tone.
“What do you want to do in San Francisco?” I ask.
He kind of shakes his head. “I’m not quite sure. After sitting in my car for the last two days, I’d like to park and walk around. I thought we could head down to the water.”
“Water?” Hmm…. “Well that narrows it down. We can park in the Presidio and walk across the Golden Gate Bridge; there’s a fancy hotel on the other side in Fort Baker. Or we could park at Union Square and walk to Coit Tower, then walk down to the Embarcadero. One direction takes us to Pier 39—you know where all the tourist shops are, or we can go in the other direction towards AT&T Park.”
Nate contemplates and says, “Last time I was in San Francisco we walked across the Golden Gate Bridge. Let’s start out at Union Square and then start walking. You’re cool with walking, right?”
Lifting up my foot shod in my comfy boots, I say, “I wore my favorite boots for walking.”
We continue driving up to San Francisco. Our banter is light and friendly. Nate seems to have a good sense of direction since he finds his way to Union Square without my help, or using GPS. It also helps that there are signs all over the place pointing the way.
We park under Union Square; luckily, there are some spaces available. Nate grabs his coat as we get out of the car. Looking at me he asks, “Do I need to GPS this, or do you know where we’re going?”
“Well, we can walk down Kearny, or we can walk through China Town then
head over to Kearny.”
“You do know your way around.” He says in a surprised tone.
Shaking my head, I add, “Only a little bit.” Pointing to my purse “Most likely at some point I’ll get confused, and we’ll need to use the GPS.”
Once we get above ground, I turn around. “Now to find Grant—so we can walk under the Dragon Gate. I’m pretty sure that Grant and Kearny run parallel.”
As I turn around, I realize that Nate’s pulled out his phone and points the way.
“You’re cheating, I thought we’d do this old school and wander around lost all afternoon,” I playfully say.
“I’m already impressed that you knew what street we should be on and what street Coit Tower is on. I figure I should take over at some point. I did ask you out. I’m also feeling kind of guilty, since I should have had more of a plan than just going to San Francisco.”
“I kind of like to have a destination, then figure the details out. I think playing it by ear can be fun. Have you ever geocached?”
He shakes his head, “Though a buddy of mine’s into orienteering.” Then he smiles, “If it is something you enjoy we can always do it together.” Internally I register; he’s already open to making future plans with me.
He then grabs a hold of my hand as we start walking. “It’s been a crazy few weeks. I can’t believe I’m here, not here as a tourist, here with a job in Palo Alto, and next week an apartment in Palo Alto.”
“Then I’m the one being remiss, I should be welcoming you to California. Next stop DMV to get a California driver’s license.”
“Don’t remind me, my brain is filled with millions of details surrounding my move.” He smiles down at me, and then he tilts his head in the direction we are going as he says, “Come on, let’s find the Dragon Gate.”
We only need to walk a short few blocks before we see the green, Chinese looking gate that spans Grant Street. As we wait by the light, Nate drops my hand; he moves behind me and places his hand on my shoulder. A tingling sensation spreads up my neck and down my core. When the light turns green, he lowers his hand onto the small of my back as he walks with me across the street. The way he touches me feels natural, protective. After Wednesday’s date with Zach, I almost texted Nate to tell him I couldn’t make it this weekend. Now, being here with him is nice. He’s comfortable to be around, I’m glad I decided to go on this date. We start walking down narrow Grant Street; it’s lined with all the stores filled with traditional Chinese goods. Nate drops his hand from my back, and takes a hold of my hand. His hand is warm, my whole arm tingles from contact. The street is rather crowded; I’m glad he’s holding on to me. We stop at a few shops and look at the stuff displayed outdoors. He picks up a couple strange things and gives me an inquisitive look. Smiling in return, I raise my shoulders and eyebrows.
“Are you much of a shopper?” I ask.
“Do you mean, do I go to the mall on my days off?”
“Yeah, I can’t see that.” I smirk.
Laughing he says, “Yeah, you’re right. I only shop when I desperately need something. Something tells me you’re not much of a shopper either.”
Again his observation is accurate, though I wonder if this behavior is considered good or bad. “I think people shop when they want to get out of the house, but don’t have anything to do or maybe they’re just obsessive collectors, you know like on Hoarders.”
He looks like he’s considering what I’m saying.
Continuing, I add, “I try to keep busy—you know getting together with my friends, playing sports. I need to plan shopping into my schedule. Mostly, I shop online. What about you?”
“Yeah, mostly online. There’re a couple stores that have what I like, and when I’m really pressed, I go there.”
“Sometimes shopping is fun. I’ll go with friends or my mom. Shopping and lunch is just a nice thing for us to do together. But, yeah, I don’t go shopping just for the sake of shopping.”
We walk until we hit Columbus Avenue. “I think we need to go that way to get to Coit Tower,” I say as I point to my right.
Nate looks at his phone and says, “I think you’re right.” As we walk up Kearny, the street gets steep, and the sidewalk turns into steps the closer we get to Coit Tower.
“You know that Coit Tower is just a tower on a hill. There are labor murals from the Thirties on the walls?”
Chuckling he says, “Yeah, I figured as much. I just thought it would be a good place to head out to, we can look out over the bay, then head down to the waterfront, stop some place for a drink.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”
We take the steps to the top of Telegraph Hill, walking to the base of Coit Tower. There’s a crowd of people waiting to get in. It looks like about a hundred people are ahead of us. Nudging Nate, I whisper, “Do you still want to do this?”
He knits his brow as he looks down at me. “We’re here, might as well complete our journey.”
“Well then, let’s get in line.”
Nate drops my hand as we stand in line. We start chatting with the people ahead of us—a hipster couple from Boston. Over the last week they tell us they drove up route one, and then show us the tattoos they just got to memorialize their vacation. Having nothing against tattoos, I have no interest in getting one. They look way too painful, and they’re way too permanent. Two years ago, I had the tips of my hair bleached and then colored purple, giving me about five inches of an ombré look. That’s about as radical as I get, I’m just too conservative to feel comfortable with permanent body art or piercing.
The hipster woman has long dark hair that’s been infused with red streaks. She has elaborately braided it. She leans over and picks up one of my long shiny sausage curls “What do you do to get that color and those types of curls?”
Laughing, I tell her “It just comes out of my head that way. After swimming this morning, I brushed it and then used some Curls Rock.”
She scrunches up her nose. “I hate you,” she says, grinning sweetly.
Not the first time I’ve heard that in jest.
Noticing that hair talk is boring the guys, I change the subject. “A couple of weeks ago Nate and I went hiking and wine tasting. Have you done any wine tasting on your way up the coast?”
This opens up a whole conversation on wine tasting and food. It’s nice since the time in line goes fast. Soon we’re at the base of the building. Nate buys both of us a ticket and we ride the old elevator to the top.
The day is only partially cloudy, so we have decent visibility. You can see the bay, but Sausalito and Tiburon are difficult to make out. Viewing the bay as I lean on the wall next to Nate, he picks up one of my curls and starts playing with it.
Tilting my head I look over, giving him a coy smile. He drops my curl, raising his hand to my cheek, softly dragging the back of his index finger down to my jaw. The touch is soft, intimate; its trail reverberates through my body. Giving me an inscrutable look, I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he as turned on by this intimate moment as I am? He stares at my lips. Unconsciously, I lick them. He takes a deep breath as he drops his hand. He kind of clears his throat and stands up straight, then rubs his hands over the back of his neck. Yeah, he felt that too. Musing, I wonder what it would be like to kiss him; what his muscles feel like. I force myself to break my reverie. Following his lead, I too stand up straight.
He grabs my hand as he says in a deep, raspy voice “Come on, let’s check out the other views.” We walk around the top floor hand in hand.
When we arrive back at the bay view, he says, “Let’s head over to the Embarcadero and get a drink.” We walk down the stairs and head to the path that leads us through some small woods to the main road.
Nate drops my hand as he checks his phone. “I’d like to sit out on the pier.” After a minute or two he says, “Do you like oysters?”
Not saying anything since he touched my face, I struggle to find my voice. Clearing my throat, I manage to utter, “Yeah,
I’ll eat almost anything.”
Chapter 23 – Drinks
Walking down to the Embarcadero, Nate looks up from his phone. He points right. “Let’s cross the street and head that way.” Taking hold of my hand we walk to the nearest light as he says, “It looks like there’re more choices of restaurants down by the Bay Bridge.”
The sidewalk along the bay is very wide and rather crowded. Many people are out and walking about. It’s hard for me not to notice how hip everyone here dresses, compared to where I live. I’m glad I’m wearing boots and my leather coat since it makes me feel urban. It’s a great walk, the air is brisk and there’s plenty to see.
Twenty minutes later we’re in front of Water Bar. “This place looks nice,” he says.
I smile, “Looks good to me.”
It’s surprisingly busy for three in the afternoon. They seat us outside near a heater. Nate comfortably leans back in his chair as he looks at the oyster menu. “What are you going to drink?” He asks.
“What’s hot?” I say as I rub my hands together. They feel much colder when his warm hands aren’t holding them.
“You’re cold?”
Rolling my eyes, I smirk, “Yeah, I have a little engine that easily runs cold. You have a lot more muscle mass than me.”
His beautiful blue eyes appraise me as he nods in agreement. Taking off his jacket, he casually wraps it around me. The jacket is warm and smells good, masculine. I’m distracted by his action as I hear him say, “Wasn’t Irish coffee invented in San Francisco?”
“Yeah, over at the Buena Vista by Ghirardelli Square.”
Leaning forward, he picks up both of my hands and puts them between his much larger warm hands, and gently rubs them. Looking up, our eyes meet, he quirks his mouth, “Better?”
Smiling shyly, I slowly nod my head. A server interrupts us. “What can I get you folks?”
Nate gently drops my hands as he leans back, picks the menu up, and orders a plate of oysters. He then says, “She’ll take an Irish coffee.” He looks at me to confirm, “And I’ll have an Anchor Steam draft.” Looking back at me, he says, “Where were we?”