Date Me Like You Mean It

by Grey, R. S.

  Meanwhile, my own father was snapping photos of me with the extra-large telescopic lens attached to his heavy-duty camera while simultaneously trying not to cry for the fifth time that day.

  “I can’t believe my baby is getting married,” he said, sounding close to another breakdown.

  Click-click. The camera’s lens snapped open and shut.

  “Keep it together, Peter,” my mother groaned. “We’ve got to be strong for Jolie.”

  But she sounded near tears too.

  She rushed toward me, fussing over my dress and trying to straighten a flower that was sewed onto the bodice right above my heart.

  “I don’t think it’ll lie flat,” I told her.

  She tsked as if annoyed that I didn’t believe in her mothering skills, and then she whipped out a little alteration pin from her purse. She poked it into my dress (catching my skin in the process) and proceeded to ignore my whimper of pain as she bent that fabric bloom to her will.

  “There, perfect. Now stop slouching.” I slouched harder, and she rolled her eyes. “You always were my little rebel.”

  Hardly.

  My sister’s rehearsal dinner afterward was beautiful. Of course it was. My mother helped plan it, and she’s been hosting parties my entire life as if in preparation for a big traditional Southern wedding. As a regular in the Highland Park social scene, she was made for moments like this.

  Unfortunately for me, I didn’t get another chance to have a private word with Aiden at dinner, not with all of our respective families there, hogging our attention and asking me pestering questions.

  So what will you do now that you’re done with college?

  I’d love to backpack to Machu Picchu.

  Any plans to settle down?

  I’m not sure—I’m only 21.

  Do you think you’ll have kids?

  What? You know I’m not the one getting married, right?

  Then, it came time for the speeches. James and Jolie—(I know, I know. My mother practically had a heart palpitation with all the alliterative monogram possibilities)—had requested that the family make speeches at the rehearsal dinner rather than at the wedding reception, so when everyone was seated and eating their way through dinner, I pushed my chair back, raised my champagne flute, and took a butter knife to the side of it. To say I was nervous is an understatement, and that was before I cracked my flute with the knife and showered myself in bubbly.

  Everyone, and I mean everyone gasped in horror as I dabbed champagne off my dress.

  “Well, I guess these rehearsals are a good idea,” I quipped. “Tomorrow, during the wedding, I’ll remember to just tap the glass lightly before I give a speech.”

  Everyone laughed as an attendant rushed forward to help clean up the mess. That’s when my eyes locked with Aiden across the small room in the Dallas Country Club. He was smiling then, though just barely. Only the right side of his mouth was hitched up to let me know he wasn’t taking amusement from my situation, but instead commiserating with me. The private look sent a shiver down my spine.

  I don’t quite remember my speech after that. It was a sprinkling of embarrassing and touching stories about my childhood with Jolie playing the role of the perfect (and I mean perfect) big sister, paired with healthy warnings to James about what he was getting into. Like my mother, Jolie can be quite particular. Since she turned thirteen, she’s never gone out in public without a full face of makeup. She’s had her children’s names picked out for as long as I can remember. She wants everything tied up with a ribbon or a bow, a wreath on every door, a flower in every vase. In fact, at the rehearsal dinner, I’m pretty sure she cried, not because of my sweet speech, but because when I spilled the champagne, some of it made its way onto our grandmother’s heirloom linens that were covering the tables that night.

  Regardless, whatever my speech was, Aiden topped it.

  After I’d finished and we’d toasted to the bride and groom, he stood to take his turn. He picked up his butter knife, made out like he was going to clink it against the side of his champagne flute, then paused as if thinking it over before setting it back down. Everyone laughed, including me. Then—and I’ll never forget this detail for as long as I live—to confirm I was in on the joke with him, he sent me a wink from across the room before turning his attention to his brother.

  I fell for Aiden during his speech, which is highly inappropriate given the fact that I had Darren sitting beside me that night. I try not to beat myself up about it though. It’s not all that shocking. Aiden is a journalist (something I didn’t know at the time), so if anyone was going to whip out a hilarious and poignant speech at a rehearsal dinner, it’s him. He told the story of a time he and James went hiking in the woods. Aiden had sprained his ankle climbing out of a ravine and James had to carry him all the way back to their car, but since Aiden is so much taller, James was struggling and ended up falling and twisting his ankle too. They’d hobbled back to the vehicle, cursing the woods and swearing to never go on a hike again. We were all in tears from laughing as we listened to him talk. I think Darren tried to get my attention at one point and I batted his hand away.

  Now, it should be said that Aiden and I had very little interaction that entire weekend. Sure, we walked down the aisle together the next day (him looking absolutely soul-crushing in a black tuxedo) and we posed for photos with the rest of our family members, but it’s not like he and I were hitting it off at the punch bowl during the reception. I had to pay some modicum of attention to Darren, and Aiden’s time was monopolized by a whole slew of women. I found myself searching for him in the crowd during the reception, wanting to know what he was doing, who he was talking to. I’d gathered enough intel to know he was a few years older than me and single, but I wanted more.

  The wedding coordinator came around after dinner had been served and leaned down to talk to me quietly.

  “When Jolie and James finish their first dance, the DJ will ask for guests to join them out on the dance floor. I’d like you and Aiden to lead the way.”

  “But—”

  I glanced toward Darren, and she followed my gaze.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked my date sweetly.

  Darren shook his head adamantly. “Not at all.”

  I looked over to Aiden—having already pinpointed his location in the ballroom minutes earlier—and was surprised to find him looking my way. When our eyes locked, he shrugged as if to say, I’m game if you are.

  I could barely stomach the rest of my dinner after that.

  Dancing!?

  Did I even know how?!

  “And now let’s bring our newlyweds out onto the dance floor,” the cheesy DJ announced over the loudspeaker sometime later, and I searched around for a brown paper bag to heave into.

  It was almost my cue. I was going to have to dance with Aiden and look like it was a totally normal thing.

  “You okay?” Darren asked, having clued in to my impending freak-out. He leaned over to try to grab my hand to reassure me, but I pulled it away before he could.

  “I’m fine,” I squeaked out, wiping my clammy hands on my couture bridesmaid dress.

  I was absolutely consumed with trying to think of topics to talk about with Aiden on the dance floor.

  What did you have for dinner? The children or the fish? Children?! Oh my god. No, I don’t eat children, I swear. I meant chicken. Did you have the chicken or the fish?

  Even in my head, I couldn’t be cool.

  I didn’t realize Aiden had come around to collect me until his hand touched my shoulder.

  “Maddie? You ready?”

  I bolted up out of my seat so fast my elbow collided with Darren’s nose. It started bleeding and he had to rush off to the bathroom to avoid staining his suit.

  “Shoot!” I cursed under my breath.

  “Is he going to be okay?” someone asked.

  “Oh, he’ll be fine!” I insisted, not wanting to jeopardize my dance with Aiden.

  I c
hanced a glance over at him to find him smiling at me just like he had the night before, like I was the most amusing person in the room. “Between the champagne glass and your date’s nose, you’re quite a liability, you know that?”

  I blanched. “If you don’t want to dance with me, you don’t have to.”

  “It’s okay. C’mon, I can handle myself.”

  I scooted around my chair and let him lead me toward the dance floor. “I swear I’m usually more poised than I’ve been this weekend.”

  “Of course you are. I’d expect nothing less,” he said, glancing down at my dress.

  I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh, just a girl like you, from Highland Park…I’m sure you took etiquette lessons from the age of seven onward. I’d bet you learned how to walk gracefully with a stack of books on top of your head.”

  “I’ll have you know my mother started formal dining lessons at age five, not seven, thank you very much. If you’re ever in doubt about which fork to use at a state dinner, I’m your girl.”

  He laughed and shook his head.

  “But I’m more than that, you know,” I continued, feeling like it was imperative that he know that.

  He peered over at me in silence, like he was going to take my word for it.

  As we neared the edge of the dance floor, the DJ caught sight of us and made his announcement about couples joining the bride and groom. Aiden didn’t even wait for me to give him a final approval, just stepped out and swept me up into his arms.

  We were a good fit. At 5’6”, I didn’t feel totally eclipsed by him, just partially.

  He wrapped one hand around my waist and held my hand in the other. He led me around the floor with confident grace, asking me if I wanted to spin before unfurling me out so only our fingers touched and then looping me back into him. I laughed with glee and asked him to do it again. He did, and then we settled back into a rhythm. My chest brushed his and I flicked my eyes up to find him looking down at me.

  Did he recognize how easily we moved together? How fun this was?

  Then I thought of Darren stuffing toilet paper up his nose in the bathroom and got ahold of myself.

  After clearing my throat, I asked, “So what do you do?”

  He told me he was a journalist.

  “Really? That’s awesome!”

  He smiled wryly. “Could you mention that to my parents? They keep pleading with me to go back to grad school for a second time and get a ‘normal’ job.”

  “Pfft. What’s a normal job, anyway?”

  “Probably something like what James does.”

  He tilted his head to where he and my sister were dancing, moving slowly, gazing into each other’s eyes. Unlike them, we’d covered the dance floor twice over thanks to Aiden leading me.

  “Doesn’t he work in corporate law? What a snooze,” I teased.

  Aiden smiled, assessing me.

  “You know I really had you pegged wrong yesterday.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  He nodded, studying me. “I guess it was the way you looked. It reminded me a lot of your sister.” His smile dropped as if he realized he might have offended me. “That came out wrong. There’s nothing wrong with her. I’m happy she and James found each other.”

  “You don’t have to explain it,” I said with a smile that hopefully assuaged his guilt. “Let’s just say she and my mom are a lot alike, and it makes sense that you got the wrong impression. I don’t exactly feel like myself this weekend. The hair and makeup…it’s not me—”

  “May I cut in?”

  It was Darren. Darren, the nice guy I’d been seeing for two months. Darren, the guy I’d felt wishy-washy about even before meeting Aiden. What a deflating moment to have to step out of Aiden’s arms and let Darren take over. Did Aiden have to be such a gentleman? Couldn’t he threaten bodily harm while refusing to unhand me?

  The rest of the night was boring. I swore I saw Aiden leave with a beautiful girl from Jolie’s sorority days, but I couldn’t be sure. After that, I ate two slices of cake and sat in a corner listening to my aunt ramble about conspiracy theories she’d read on the internet.

  You really shouldn’t be using microwaves! And for heaven’s sake, if you do, make sure you stand clear across the room. Those waves will nuke your brain!

  Sunday morning, after the send-off breakfast, I stood outside the hotel, waiting for Darren to bring his car around, trying to work out a way to break things off with him gently. Not because of Aiden per se, but because things had been slowly going downhill for a while and I didn’t really see a future with him.

  I heard someone call my name, and when I turned back, I was surprised to see Aiden coming out of the lobby, rolling his suitcase toward me, eclipsing the early morning sun at his back.

  “Headed out?” he asked, like we were old friends.

  “Yup. Back home.”

  I was terribly excited to see him again, especially because I’d resigned myself to the alternative. Now we had another chance! Couldn’t we be friends? Exchange numbers? Fall in love forever and ever?

  “Where’s home?”

  “Here—Dallas. Though I’m not sure how much longer I’ll stay here. I just graduated from TCU and I’m interviewing for jobs in Austin.”

  His brows shot up. “Really? That’s where I live.”

  “No way! That’s awesome.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, if you end up coming down and need a place to stay, let me know. My roommate just moved out, actually.”

  A few weeks later, I called him.

  Chapter Two

  Maddie

  The morning after Pillowgate, I’m eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch at our table and doing the maze on the back of the cereal box when Aiden walks out of his room shirtless.

  I hate that he does this.

  It’s loathsome having to take in his hulking male physique. It’s like, Enough already! We get it! You have ABDOMINAL MUSCLES. Some of us don’t, so please stop rubbing it in.

  My pink pillow is under his arm.

  He’s making a show of it now, really salting the wound.

  “Sleep well?” I ask.

  “Like a baby,” he says, scratching his scruff. In a bit, he’ll go shave it off. Internally, I plead with him to leave it. Just for a day. Just for me. “I’m actually glad you gave Kelly my pillow. It needed replacing, and this one fits the bill perfectly.”

  He pats my pillow like he’s thankful for its service.

  “Well, I hope you enjoyed it, because the second you leave for work, I’m stealing it back.”

  “That’s fine. If you do, I’ll come swipe it again while you’re sleeping.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” I say, tone deadly serious.

  “I would. Dare. Are you almost done with that maze? It’s kind of taking you a while.”

  I glance back at the cereal box. “It’s hard. I think it’s meant for teenagers.”

  “It says right there it’s intended for children between three and five.”

  I squint like I can’t see the big bold letters. “Does it?”

  He swipes the cereal box away from me so he can fill his own bowl. He’ll supplement it with egg whites and some sort of protein smoothie slurped through a straw. I will not.

  “What’s on the docket for today?” he asks, taking the seat across from me.

  And so begins my heroic task of keeping my eyes off his naked chest.

  I focus down on my cereal. “First I have to lead a seminar about appropriate dress code in the workplace, and then I’m going to try to have a meeting with my new boss about my future at the company. Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need luck. You’re an asset at that agency, and they’re lucky to have you.”

  That’s right! They are lucky!

  Two years ago, I graduated with a degree in communications, assuming I’d move to New York City, work for a fancy ad agency, and become friends with Angelina Jolie’s kids or something. Every day, I’d eat l
unch on the stairs of the MET just like Blair Waldorf. Instead, I chickened out, stayed in Texas, and moved three hours south of where I spent my entire adolescence. To some, this may seem like I’m lacking the adventurous spirit, but have you been to New York City? That shit is not for everyone. I am not capable of witnessing a huge rat scurry across the sidewalk in front of me like it’s a normal occurrence. Nope. At least the vermin in Texas know to lurk in the bushes until I’m good and gone.

  Unfortunately, staying here limited me in terms of jobs. While I do technically work at an ad agency, it’s only as the office manager. When I first started out, I assumed it’d be a good way to get my foot in the door. Little did I know it’s very hard to get promoted once you’re dubbed admin girl.

  That aside, I like living in Austin. It’s filled with an eclectic mix of people. We’ve got greenbelts for hiking and stunning views of the hill country right outside our condo. Also, stunning views of Aiden lifting his cereal spoon to his mouth.

  “What?” he asks, demanding to know why I’m staring at him.

  “You have milk on your face,” I lie, pushing back from the table.

  You would think my infatuation with him would be old news. We’ve lived together for two years! He’s heard me accidentally toot when I (wrongly) assumed it was going to come out of my butt silent. I’ve accidentally seen him naked and lived to tell the tale. And that tale is lengthy. Very lengthy. Wink wink.

  It shouldn’t have worked out, us moving in together.

  In the beginning, it made no sense.

  My parents were not thrilled.

  A few weeks after my sister’s wedding, I packed my bags to head to Austin.

  “Why don’t you live with one of your girlfriends from college?” my mom asked. “Or I’m sure Jolie knows people in Austin. I have a friend at the club, Deanne—I think her daughter lives there. Why don’t we try to set something up with the two of you?”

  I didn’t want to hear any of her suggestions. I’d already made up my mind the minute I called Aiden. It was a brief exchange. He was at work and couldn’t talk for long. I asked him if he was still looking for a roommate. He was. I asked if he’d consider me moving in with him. He made me agree to the stipulation that I wouldn’t shatter any champagne flutes in the condo. Bada bing, bada boom—we had an arrangement.