by Marilyn Grey
The sun finally poured into the room and Autumn stirred.
"I have two goals," I said before she opened her eyes.
"Am I supposed to have a serious conversation with you at the crack of dawn?"
"One, I'm going to make this Batman-inspired fashion line work, I don't care what the hell I have to do."
"Okay. I never doubted that one."
"Yeah, but I did."
"And what's number two?"
"I'm going on a date."
She sat up and rubbed her eyes, then leaned closer and analyzed my face. "Where's Jane and what have you done with her?"
"Maybe cell phone guy. Maybe even tonight."
"Wait. What? Are you serious?"
I nodded. I spent my life avoiding guys because I didn't need them. I didn't need the breakups. I didn't need the extra drama. I didn't need to force myself to get all worked up over someone if it wouldn't last. I didn't need, but that didn't mean I couldn't want. Besides, maybe it would be fun. Maybe it could even relieve stress. Maybe I just wanted a kiss.
Not need.
Want.
I wanted a kiss. That's it. No strings attached. No relationships. No drama.
A simple, fun kiss.
"On that note," Autumn said, "I'm getting in the shower. Smells like Mom cooked cereal for breakfast if you want some while you wait."
I laughed. Her family was notorious for convenience foods, while my mom made gourmet breakfasts whenever a guest came over.
"I'm afraid to venture out into stuffed animal land alone," I said.
"Just watch out for the elephant. I've bumped into the horn a few times and it hurts."
"So weird, Autumn." I shook my head. "And I remember when they stuffed the snake and we walked in thinking it was real."
"Then you got all Batman on it while I screamed and ran out of the house."
"I ripped that thing to shreds, thinking I was so brave and victorious."
She held her stomach in laughter. "Laugh. Out. Loud."
"I'm gonna miss you," I said, looking at my fingernails.
She sat back down and hugged me. We stayed like that for a few minutes as our laughter turned quiet.
"I'm gonna miss you too," she said. "Especially those Batman pajamas."
We went to lunch at some random place in the city. Her choice. Now I needed to get her to the surprise party, which was all the way across town, but I didn't want to make it obvious. So I let her go in and out of some shops on Walnut Street, this beautiful little shopping district in Philly.
We walked back out of another store and I checked the time.
"Got somewhere to be?" she said.
"No, just got an email." Technically I did just get an email. So I wasn't lying!
"Okay. One more store then? For me?"
"I hate window shopping. It's like dating. Why waste your time on stuff you can't buy?"
"For me?" she whined.
"Of course."
"And you said you're gonna go on a date and kiss that guy, maybe even tonight."
"That was this morning."
She walked into a store. I followed. We were definitely going to be late.
"Jane," she said. "Isn't this...." She held up a shirt. "This is just like yours."
Lungs. Heart. All of it stopped. I held the shirt in my hands and looked at the others on the rack, and the others, and the others.
"Can I help you?" someone said.
Autumn slowly took the shirt from my hands as I stared at the rest of them. My designs. My clothes. My Batman-inspired line! Someone stole it all!
"Excuse me," someone said. "Is there something I can help you with?"
I turned. "Where is your manager?"
"I'm sorry?" the girl said.
"I'd like to see your manager. I have a question about employment."
"Let me check and see if that's a possibility."
"It better be a freaking possibility."
She disappeared.
"Autumn, they totally stole my stuff!" I wanted to grab everything off the racks and run. "How is that even possible?"
The girl returned. "He's willing to see you, but he said there are no employment opportunities at this time."
"Come with me," I said to Autumn.
We followed the girl into the back of the store and into a tight hallway. She opened another door. "Go on in."
Fists clenched, pulse racing, palms sweating, I stepped in.
"SURPRISE!"
Mom. Dad. Donovan. Han. Zoe. Brooke. Eddie. Granny. Ella. Dee. Aunt Sandy. Uncle Kenny. And ... what?
I turned to Autumn. She held her hand over her growing smile as tears collected in her eyes.
"Everyone chipped in," Donovan said. "And we started a fundraiser."
"Chipped ... what?" Why is everyone smiling at me? "Isn't this Autumn's party?"
She stepped up and hugged me. "No, dummy. There's no going away party. It was for you."
"But ... what's going on exactly?"
"This is your store," Mom said. "It's not technically opened yet. The girl at the front was a friend of Han's. We just opened the front door for now to make it seem real to you. The name on the front needs to be changed to whatever you decide to call it. We gathered enough to pay for five months of rent and your furniture is all moved into a new place a few blocks over."
"You've got five months, kiddo," Dad said. "Time to make it work."
I inhaled until my lungs couldn't take it anymore. "You guys are too nice to me. I don't deserve this."
"There's more," Donovan said. "I got you something." He handed me a rectangle wrapped in black and gold paper. "It's not much, but I think you'll like it."
"Open it now?" In front of all these eyeballs?
He nodded.
You can do this, Jane. I ripped the edge of the paper and peeled it back, then ripped and peeled more. A picture frame. I turned it over. Framed by black and gold, with a little Batman stamp on it, was the note Alistair first wrote me. The day we met.
Autumn played 1812 Overture from her phone. It was all a little ... queer, in Alistair's words.
I didn't know what to say. Especially to Donovan. Especially in front of a sea of glowing faces who wanted an emotional reaction I couldn't give.
Dad stepped aside. Then Donovan. Then Mom. Then, one by one, every person formed a path in the middle until it opened up and led to...
Him.
Chapter 37
He stood there. Hands in his pockets, wearing the same outfit from the day we met. Black t-shirt. Fitted jeans. His lips twitched and turned up into a funny, nervous smile.
All eyes on me. On him. The song. The black and yellow roses tucked between his arm and his side.
I didn't know what to do.
In a romance movie she'd run up and jump into his arms, they'd twirl around the room as everyone cried in the background. The song would get louder, their hearts would beat faster, and it would be amazingly cheesy.
In a comedy, I'd stand there and someone would run in and ruin the moment.
In a tragedy, maybe I'd run off and kill myself. Then he'd follow after and do the same. Never understood that one.
He closed his eyes and his smiled turned up one side of his face. When he opened his eyes again I was a step closer. He pulled his hands from his pockets and took a step too.
"I ... I ..." I couldn't.
He took another step.
My turn. You can do this, Jane. Don't hurt him in front of everyone.
Another step.
And my turn again.
We stood a few inches apart. Close enough that I could smell the flowers and his minty breath.
"Jane," he whispered.
I closed my eyes. "Alistair."
Something welled inside me. Some foreign sensation. It wasn't butterflies or tears. I knew those already.
It wasn't nervousness or shyness. I felt those many times before too.
It was something else. Something that tightened my chest, warmed m
e from the inside out, and brought the slightest smile to my face.
He handed me the flowers, took my hand into his, brought it to his lips, and kissed, looking right at me the entire time.
I turned to everyone around us. They smiled like they were watching a chick flick, which didn't appeal to me.
I grabbed Alistair's hand, whispered, "Let's go," and ran toward the door with his hand in mine.
We dashed out the front and down the street, disappeared around the corner, and stopped. Panting, he leaned on his knees.
"What exactly just happened?" he said.
It started small. The slightest bubbling in my chest, then it increased and I couldn't hold back anymore.
Leaning against the wall of a store, I laughed. And he joined in. I laughed harder, louder, as the flowers trembled in my hands.
We shook our heads and held our stomachs, trying to speak between fits of laughter. People walked by, cocking their heads at us, but we didn't care. Not at all.
My eyes welled as our laughs subsided into soft bursts. He stood close to me. Really close.
Then silenced himself as he pulled a single rose from the bouquet.
My eyes continued to blur. "I tried to—"
He placed the rose on my lips. "I know what happened. I would've come after you, Jane, but Donovan found me first and told me to wait." He took the rose away and cupped my hand around it. "He said you needed more time and he wanted to surprise you."
"How did he find you? I tried everything."
"He looked up my old band on Facebook, searched through old comments, and there I was."
"Leave it to Don. I thought I tried everything at least."
"You really wanted to find me, eh?" He smirked. "Staying up all hours of the night to look for me?"
I tried as hard as humanely possible not to blush. Or lie. He was joking, but it was true. I stayed up many nights trying to find him.
"So tell me," he said. "What is it about me? The accent or the anticipation of the greatest kiss of your entire life?"
I hit his chest. "Shut up."
He laughed. "Hungry?"
"No, but you always are. So should we get something? Am I supposed to go back to the store?"
"I don't think they'll mind."
"I can't believe this. Any of it. There are so many people that deserve this more than me."
"When we don't feel like we deserve something we appreciate it even more." He held eye contact, then broke away. "Pizza?"
"Only if it's a date." I smiled.
He gave me the flowers. "No. I'm not ready for a date."
"Oh, well I just th—"
"Jane." He laughed. "I'm kidding."
I smelled the flowers as he began walking.
"Wait," I said.
He turned.
I looked at him, taking it all in. Hair made to be messy, t-shirt that exposed his strong arms, cute shoes, nice jeans ... and that face, that smile, and those eyes. I took a picture with my mind, held it there, and hoped the image would remain for a long time. "Okay," I said. "Let's go."
As hungry as he was, he sure did walk slow. Or maybe life just slowed down completely.
His hand brushed against me and I found myself longing to feel it happen again. A few seconds later, his fingers hit mine and stayed there. I moved my index finger toward his. He looked at me. No smile. Just serious eyes. I curled my finger around his hand and waited.
He let go.
Then took my hand into his.
And held it.
Our hands swayed between us as we continued down the street. It felt good. And right.
But I couldn't shake the fear that it wouldn't last. That it wouldn't work. He'd go back home and this moment—this comfortable, beautiful moment—would be nothing more than a memory to haunt me in my sleep.
"Jane," he whispered into my neck. "Stop thinking so much."
I double-looked at him.
"I can tell." He stopped in front of a pizza place and nodded toward the door.
"No." I tightened my grip on his hand. "Let's keep walking."
Every moment we let go of is replaced by another, which could be better ... but it could also be worse. I didn't want to risk it. I wanted this moment to last. And if I'm honest, I didn't want to let it go at all. Even to trade it for something "better."
Chapter 38
We didn't stop holding hands until we made our way back to the pizza place and separated to go to the bathroom. I checked my phone before coming back out and had a message from pretty much everyone.
So I responded to Autumn by saying, I'll stop by before you leave. Tell everyone I'm turning my phone off till tomorrow.
Then I turned it off, walked back out of the bathroom, and jumped. I didn't expect him to be standing right outside the door waiting for me, but I liked it. He reached his hand out and mine naturally fell into his again.
"Hey," he said as we walked toward the front counter. "Are you going to let me be gentlemanly and pay for this meal?"
"If you can tell me who said that it's gentlemanly to pay for a meal and when it originated."
He smiled. "And that I can't tell you."
"Maybe at least tell me why you think it's gentlemanly?"
"Because..." He thought for a minute. "That's what I was told to do, I guess."
"But what do you want to do?"
"I want to pay for you."
"Because..."
"I like you." He smiled. "And I want to be kind-person-ly."
"I like that better. See, now you're doing it because you want to, not because you think it's the proper thing to do."
"But it is proper," he said. "It's proper for me to love you if I want to."
My mouth opened and stayed there. Did he just say love?
"I didn't ... it's only that ..." He nodded toward the counter. "Pizza and chips?"
"Extra chips." I forced a smile.
Love?
I couldn't do love.
Not yet.
He ordered for us and I attempted to stay focused, but the word kept flying into my mind like a gnat. I'd swat. And it would fly right in again.
We sat down across from each other and waited for our meal. I really tried to look at him.
"Jane." He laughed. "I suppose we're going to need to face this at some point."
I swallowed.
He reached his hand across the table and opened it, I slowly placed my hand in his.
"No," he said. "You know what?" He stood and scooted into my booth. "I'm going to sit next to you."
"I'm sorry, I just—"
"I completely understand, but listen to me"—he cupped my face in his hands—"I do love you. Yes, I may not know what it's like to kiss you, although I hope to find out soon. And perhaps I don't know you like Donovan does. Yet. But I love who you are, Jane. I love your fiery passion and your drive to really, really live life to the fullest. You're inspiring. I love that you don't give up easily. Hell, I even love that you try to run away or hang up on people when you're embarrassed. So, yes, it's true. And I'll say it because I want to. I love you."
I nodded and tried to process everything.
"Do you want to run away right now?"
Someone set a pizza, two fries, and two drinks at our table.
"Thank you," he said, then turned to me. "Am I not allowed to love you?"
"No, no. It's not like that. I'm sorry."
"Jane."
I finally looked into his eyes.
"You don't have to say it back," he said, smiling.
"It's just a lot all at once. The shop. The surprise. The people. You. This." I took his hand. "I like you. I like talking to you and being with you, but..."
He nodded. "Go on. It's okay."
"But you live in England."
He broke eye contact and turned toward the table. "You're thinking too far ahead."
"I have to." I opened two straws and gave him one. "Don't you see? What if we start this and it gets so deep and so beautiful and th
en it doesn't work? What if our hearts don't line up with reality? I can't pour myself into a sieve. It's not fair to either of us."
"Jane."
"Yes?"
"Just eat."
I picked up a fry. "Are you annoyed at me?"
"A little." He threw a fry at my face. "But you deserve it."
"Fair enough." I threw it back, but it soared right by him and smacked an older woman in the face.
I hid my face in his shoulder as her husband snapped his head toward us.
Alistair pat my head and smiled at them. "I apologize. She was aiming for me."
Their contorted eyebrows slowly eased and I held my laugh inside. The woman still looked horrified that anyone would do such a thing, but her husband was definitely suppressing a laugh.
Alistair leaned into me and whispered, "Do it again."
"No way." I moved back into place and picked up a slice of pizza. "I'm too hungry to waste anymore."
"That's right. I forgot you eat triple the amount of normal girls."
"I like food, what can I say?"
After our meal, we walked back to the shop and discussed possible names. Anything related to Batman. And it was in that conversation that I realized I did love him. Who knows if it was real deal marriage type love, but I loved who he was. The way he glanced to the side at me without moving his head. And the way he used his free hand to speak so enthusiastically about Batman, a subject none of my friends and family could ever get that deep into. I loved his laugh and the way he made me laugh. His dreams and goals and passions.
But I couldn't tell him that. I didn't want him to take it the wrong way.
We stayed in the shop for a while as he rummaged through every last piece of clothing, commenting on all of them in detail. No one ever did that. Not even Don. Most people said, "Wow, this is nice. Good job." But Alistair spent at least a minute looking at the front, back, and inside of everything and then he'd say something like, "I love the asymmetrical pattern on this one and the way this knot ties here."
Finally, when we only had about three women's outfits to go, I said, "Are you really this into fashion or is it just because it's me?"
"Psssh..." He slapped my thigh with the back of his hand. "Don't be so full of yourself. It's because it's...." He lowered his voice and continued, "the Batman."
