Mister Romance

by Amelia Simone

  The belated gesture soothed some of the disappointment from my forgotten birthday, but it was already eleven. Lunch was not in the cards, and I didn’t want to face uncomfortable questions about Chase, since I had no inclination to invite him to join us. I could stretch the facts of my migraine a little. After all, Chase had already made me a liar by claiming our relationship was more established than it was.

  Tamra: Sorry, Mom. I have a migraine. It started last night, which is why we left early. Safe travels and talk soon? xo T.

  Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long for her response.

  Mom: Of course, dear. Feel better soon. It was so nice to meet your young man! Maybe we’ll be in town for another wedding again soon? ;)

  I groaned. Of course. No response seemed safest. Ignore, ignore, ignore. If I waited long enough, she’d forget.

  The text from Vanessa was similar, but more knowing.

  Vanessa: I hear you and Chase were enjoying the ambiance of the kitchen last night. Call me later if you need to talk. Sorry Jennifer was on such a tear ...

  Tamra: Thanks, sis. I have no idea what her deal is.

  Thankfully, Jennifer hadn’t texted. I’d had more than enough of her in person, thank you very much. The group texts from Gina and Vicki made me smile. Friends were the best. They cheered you up even when they didn’t know how badly you needed it.

  Gina: How was the wedding with 007? Did he use his license to thrill?

  Vicki: Groan. I apologize for my wife. However, I also want to know. How was it? Huh? Huh? Huh? Us old married ladies have to live vicariously through you.

  Gina: Hey! Speak for yourself. I think we’re still thrilling.

  Tamra: It had its ups and downs. Too much for text. Would you two be up for an afternoon coffee? I need all the advice ...

  My headache was fading and commiserating with friends sounded like just what I needed to fully recover.

  Vicki: Sure. Call us your fairy godmothers. Here to make sure your prince isn’t a toad.

  Gina: Groan. Now it’s my turn to apologize for my wife ... LOL. Meet you at the usual place at 2?

  I confirmed our coffee date, then went about my weekend chores before getting ready to meet Gina and Vicki. At the last possible moment I read the text from Chase. After telling him to get lost at the end of the night, I had no idea what he’d say. Had he taken the brush-off seriously, or realize I was upset?

  He’d made a mistake, but he had also tried to defend me to my sister when I couldn’t. I’d been a full participant in the kitchen, but some of Chase’s tendencies worried me. A relationship between us wasn’t going to work if he didn’t listen.

  Sexy, fun times in the bedroom were likely to be uncomfortable and unfulfilling if he couldn’t pick up verbal and non-verbal cues. Could I trust him to recognize my interests and desires?

  I finally opened his text. Puss in Boots from Shrek was one of my favorite animated characters, with his swagger and adorable, pleading eyes. The fact that he’d remembered my soft spot for the movie gave me some reassurance that he was listening ... at least some of the time.

  Gina and Vicki had already staked out a table inside and had their drinks, so I placed my order before joining them. My chai was giving me life as I sipped at it and moved to their table. While my headache was receding thanks to the meds, I hadn’t felt like eating, and the spices in the latte helped to settle my stomach.

  Gina and Vicki watched me take a seat expectantly, taking in my jeans and T-shirt and lack of makeup with speculation. To draw out the anticipation, I sat and took a slow sip of my drink, placing it carefully back on the table before making eye contact.

  Gina couldn’t wait any longer. “So?” she asked. “How was it?” She leaned in toward me, her chin on her hands.

  I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, not sure where to start. “Eh, it was mostly good. The wedding itself was pretty much what I expected, and it was good to see my parents. I was glad to have Chase along as a buffer with some of the extended relatives. They made me feel salty as always, but having Chase there kept the carnage to a minimum. Things only got interesting toward the end of the night.”

  Vicki tipped her head and raised her elegantly shaped gray brows, waiting for me to continue.

  “We were slow dancing, and I’m not sure what prompted it, but Chase shared an erotic fantasy, and we ... acted it out.”

  I shared the highs and lows of our adventure in the kitchen. Reliving those moments made my skin flare with heat, then cool with embarrassment as I recounted my tale to my friends.

  I shared how exciting it had been, making out with Chase in the kitchen. At least until my sister and his failed attempt to rip off my panties killed the mood.

  Vicki, ever the professor, summarized the situation beautifully when I finished. “So, you and your sister are on the outs and Chase is potentially incompetent at reading female signals, even when they’re in all-caps. Is that about right?”

  I nodded glumly. “In a nutshell.”

  Gina shook her head. “It’s nuts all right. I still can’t believe that after the first attempt, he went back again. The man gave you a wedgie. Heterosexual sexcapades are dangerous. A woman would know not to go there.”

  I bobbed my head. “I know, right? I couldn’t decide if it was ego, like ‘these panties will not defeat me’ or what was going through his head. Was he afraid I’d think he was weak if he failed?”

  “I’m assuming you weren’t anticipating sex that night?” Vicki asked.

  “Nope,” I replied succinctly.

  “So, the undies were ...”

  “Extremely functional and well-made. Ready for the zombie apocalypse and not intended for seduction. Which was maybe me misreading the signals, but still. Does he have no concept of a woman’s relationship with her underwear?” I asked morosely.

  Gina gave me a knowing nod. “Exactly. I have a pair for every occasion. Period panties? Check. Slimming undergarments for under fancy outfits? Check. Daily underwear for work that are comfortable on a long shift? Check. Seduction panties?” She gave her wife a mischievous look. “Double check.”

  “Pardon me for being practical,” Vicki broke in, “but I don’t understand romance that destroys clothing. If a woman wears something special, don’t you think a conversation is warranted before it’s destroyed altogether? We ladies have to plan for these things.”

  “So, in the name of science, have you ever had a panty ripping episode, either as the ripper or rippee, and did you pull it—them—off?”

  Vicki was usually pretty private, but a few drinks and Gina would tell me everything. I thought Gina would jump in, but Vicki was in the mood to share.

  “Oh, yes. But only once. Rending lingerie is one of those romantic moves that’s better in fiction than reality. It wasn’t wedgie territory, thank God, but it still took way more hand strength than I anticipated.” She gave Gina a fond smile. “Sorry, dear. Before your time. Back when I was a wild and wanton college co-ed.”

  It was Gina’s turn to smile mischievously. “Noted. Not that anyone asked, but I have not had any panty-rippers. And honestly, after your reviews, I’m grateful?” she asked hesitantly.

  Vicki and I both nodded solemnly. “Yes. You now know you’re missing nothing. Unless they’re straight up rip-aways or have side ties, it’s not a move I’d encourage. Do not recommend. Zero stars,” I added.

  Vicki turned to me. “So, what’s the verdict on Chase?”

  “I don’t know. The panty-ripping was a turn-off. More because he didn’t listen to me than because he tried something adventurous. I was not in a head space last night to pick up romantically where we left off after my ‘conversation’ with Jennifer. Chase sent me a sweet apology last night, but I haven’t responded yet. If you have one bad experience with a person, do you call it quits?” I asked.

  Saying the words aloud helped me answer my own question. No. I wasn’t ready to give up on Chase. If thinking about him had me shifting in my seat, there was
still something there worth exploring.

  Vicki stroked her chin. Gina, who usually had a ready answer for everything, even if was blatantly wrong, was silent. I’d once asked her the average temperature on Mars, and she confidently responded 2,010 degrees Fahrenheit. It wasn’t until I googled it that I realized how wildly she guessed and how wrong she was. Mars may be red, but it’s cold, not hot.

  “Well, up until the disastrous panty fail, how was it? And other than last night, has he generally been a good listener?” Gina asked.

  I flipped back through my memories of my time with Chase. “Yes, I think so.”

  Vicki nodded. “Then I say, give him another shot.”

  Gina said, “Have you realized the bright spot in all of this yet?”

  My expression was blank. Nothing felt bright about this situation.

  “You did it! And the crowd goes wild!”

  Gina’s smug grin prepared me for her next words. “I think you should thank your life coach.”

  “Umm?”

  My fake life coach was proud of my failures? My relationship with Chase didn’t feel like something to cheer. Yet.

  “Tamra, you hit all of your goals for the year, and it’s what, only a few weeks since your birthday? You did it. Wasn’t your third goal to take a romantic risk? I think getting frisky at your brother’s wedding definitely qualifies. My work here is done.”

  She wiped her hands and sat back with a grin. I laughed as realization washed over me. Gina was right. Traumatic ending aside, I had met my birthday goals. And then some.

  I’d built an online friendship with Virginia Rothman. It hadn’t turned out like I hoped, but that action had led me to Chase. Finishing the pole dance class series proved I wasn’t a quitter, and maybe not so boring as I’d always believed. I’d taken a risk in inviting Chase to the wedding, and that was before the kitchen debauchery. That bold moment for sure deserved extra credit. Meeting my goals was something to feel good about amidst the shit-sandwich of the last twenty-four hours. Maybe my life hadn’t changed dramatically with each accomplishment, but I’d pushed myself and tasted success. Each bite tempted me to indulge further. Shedding old misconceptions and patterns left me feeling lighter. Now I was dreaming bigger. More willing to risk and share myself with someone like Chase because I recognized I had more to share.

  “Thank you, Gina. Your support has meant a lot.”

  “I wasn’t too pushy?” she asked with a grin.

  “Nope. Just the right amount. You push it real good,” I said on a laugh.

  That night as I ate a sad combination of deli salads and called it dinner, I thought about how much fun Chase and I had cooking together. I missed him.

  He hadn’t texted me again since his apology, and I didn’t know if I should be glad that he was respecting boundaries, or sad that I didn’t mean enough to keep trying. Maybe I wasn’t the only quitter. I bit my lip. That wasn’t me. Not anymore.

  Tamra: The wedding had its ups and downs, but I appreciate you going with me.

  There. Nice, neutral, not giving much away, but still appreciative of the role he played in ensuring I had backup for Nick’s wedding. I didn’t have long to wait for his response.

  Chase: I’m glad we’re still talking. Can we meet up this week? I’d like to apologize in person. Maybe over dinner? I can come cook for you if you want?

  Tamra: I want.

  I’d hit send before thinking it through, but it was a small risk to take after all the others. I wasn’t giving up so easily on Chase. I did want. In my life, in my kitchen, in my bedroom. Preferably without witnesses.

  We settled the details for him to come over on my next day off, and I went to bed with a smile. Finding someone like Chase, someone I could dream with, whose sense of humor matched my own, and who made me tingle in all the best ways? That was worth fighting for.

  Chapter 24 - Tamra

  The work week flew by. We had some rough deliveries, including one emergency C-section that was touch and go for the mother and another patient with a case of perinatal asphyxia that had me second guessing every decision in the delivery room. Luckily, the Guerrera baby had started breathing on his own shortly after breathing support. Every dicey delivery stayed with me long after my shift ended, playing on repeat as I examined and changed variables.

  On the plus side, I loved the sweet, new baby smell and helping mothers that wanted to breastfeed. For those mamas that could, there was nothing like the wonder of baby and mama figuring out breastfeeding for the first time. Likewise, it was awe inspiring watching dads bottle feed or elicit the inaugural burp. The magic of those firsts was one of the things that drew me to labor and delivery. They provided solace on the tougher days.

  On the flip side, I was pretty sure there wasn’t a job in the world where you got peed on more. Gross, but true. If it wasn’t the babies, it was the mothers. There had even been one memorable delivery where the wife had such a death grip on her partner’s hand that by the end of the delivery, he couldn’t hold it anymore. That had been unexpected, and thankfully a unique experience. I’d grown immune to most of the less attractive parts of my job, but the emotional days still got me down.

  It was my last shift before my dinner with Chase, and Gina and I were finishing up online reporting at our stations and trying to cheer each other up after transferring one of our newborns to NICU by focusing on something outside of work. I struggled to let go every time. The mother had been devastated that her daughter couldn’t be with her, and my heart ached for her. Our NICU team was world-class, but that was cold comfort when you wanted to hold your baby and couldn’t.

  “So, are you excited for dinner tomorrow?” Gina asked.

  My head tilted from side to side, not quite a nod, not quite a shake. “I’m not sure excited is the right word. Possibly apprehensive or nervous? This seems like a make-or-break kind of night, and part of me doesn’t want to be broken.”

  She smiled softly. “I can understand that. Did I ever tell you how Vicki and I got together?” she asked.

  My gaze flew to hers. “No, not really. I know you met at a Human Rights Campaign event, but that’s about it.”

  Gina nodded. “Yes, I wasn’t very involved in HRC, but I wanted to socialize more in a place I knew I’d be welcome. Outside of the bar scene, it was one of the few options I had at the time. This was in the age before dating apps,” she said. “I’m an old.”

  I blew a raspberry at her. If Gina was old, I too was ancient at only ten years her junior.

  “Vicki was one of the event organizers. She spotted me hanging out on the fringes and came to talk to me.” Gina smiled softly. “I was captivated by her calm intelligence. I was too shy to ask for her number, but I remembered her name and that she taught at the technical college.”

  I squinted at her. “I know times were different, but you didn’t show up outside her office with a boombox blaring, did you?”

  She laughed. “Not exactly. I enrolled in her class. That probably earned me creep points even by today’s standards, but at the time I was shy and didn’t have much experience asking women out. The topic didn’t matter, I only needed something that didn’t conflict with my nursing schedule and was taught by Vicki. I was working days at the time, so I ended up in one of her evening sections.”

  My eyes widened. “Wait, wait. You? In a programming class?” I couldn’t help my brief laugh. “Gina, I love you dearly, but you still ask me where to access the standard patient history reports in the hospital software. I take it the class was not successful?”

  She smiled, and her eyes took on a faraway look. “Depends on your definition of success. I had miscalculated—badly. Vicki absolutely believed in the college’s code of ethics, which forbade any social interaction between students and professors. She treated me like any other student. She wouldn’t even acknowledge that we’d met before, and I was convinced she didn’t recognize me. I was crushed, but I figured I’d spent the money on the class, so I was going to learn something
from the whole debacle. I didn’t give up, though programming was not for me. I struggled through the first few assignments before admitting that I was in way over my head.”

  “Then what happened? Did you pass the class?” I asked.

  “I discovered office hours. They saved my butt. Vicki scheduled time once a week to help struggling students, and I made it my religion to go every session to try to muddle through. She still didn’t acknowledge our prior meeting, but she did help me learn. Our time together was purely professional, but it was still time together, and my feelings grew. I felt more than a little pathetic, nursing a giant crush on my professor. I worked up my courage over the entire semester, and in her last office hour session I asked her if she’d get coffee with me after finals. She was calm and kind as she turned me down, explaining the non-fraternization policy between faculty and students. I was crushed.”

  “Well, things obviously worked out. What changed?” I asked.

  “When I turned in my final exam, I thanked her for a great semester and all of her help but let her know I wouldn’t be continuing as a student at the college. Two weeks after grades were posted and the semester finished, I had an email inviting me to coffee.” She smiled slyly. “Turns out, I wasn’t the only one struggling to focus on work during office hours.”

  I laughed. “I still can’t believe you made it through a whole semester of programming. I’m impressed.”

  Gina’s perseverance had paid off. Could Chase and I move beyond our awkward beginnings the same way? Maybe there was something to this life coach business. Her story filled my chest with a lightness I wanted to call hope.

  She smiled in return. “The things we do for love, right? The moral of the story?”

  “Don’t try to date your teachers?” I asked with a grin.

  She admonished me gently, “Sometimes you have to step outside your comfort zone to make new connections. Relationships don’t develop overnight, so give it time.”

  I WASHED AND DIFFUSED my curls before my dinner with Chase, applying oil liberally until they were shiny and controlled. A dress for dinner at home would be a bit much, so I’d settled on jeans and a tank top. My most difficult choice was my underwear selection. There was a hundred percent chance we’d be talking about them, even if he didn’t see them.