It’s a short ride, maybe twenty minutes total, and we don’t really talk. We just alternate between racing and riding at a leisurely pace. When we finally pull into the Atwater Village Fun Center, I ring my bell over and over as I race past Mack towards the bike racks.
“I beat you,” I say with feigned innocence as I lock my bike into the rack and pull off my helmet.
Mack just smiles.
“Congratulations. Now, have you been here before?”
I shake my head.
“Good. Because today we are going to have awesome kid fun.”
“Mini-golf?” I ask.
“And bumper boats.”
“You know if we ride the go-karts, I’m going to completely kick your ass.”
He just looks at me and smiles.
“I don’t doubt that in the slightest.”
After locking our bikes to the rack, Mack grabs my hand and loosely links his fingers in mine. It’s easy. Natural. Like we’ve always done this. He squeezes my hand lightly and gives me a sweet smile before leading me inside.
He doesn’t let go, not even when one of the employees asks us to hold onto golf clubs to help measure which ones we should use. He doesn’t let go until we get outside and pick up a scorecard and golf pencil.
“Alright, so what are the stakes of this game?” I ask, crossing my arms as we look over the first hole.
“Ahhhhh, so you’re a betting girl, huh?”
“Absolutely. I am very competitive.”
“Oh that has become glaringly obvious,” he replies, chuckling to himself. He puts his hand to his chin and looks me over, then makes a humming sound. “The winner plans the next date. Whatever they want.”
“You’re assuming there will be another date,” I retort.
“Are you assuming there won’t be?”
“I never said that. I just think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.” I swing my golf club over my shoulders and rest my arms on each end. “What if this date is a miserable experience for you and then you’re stuck planning some lame trip to Applebee’s for next weekend. I mean, for all you know, I’m a totally insane, crazy person who sifts through Justin Bieber’s trash looking for hair clippings.”
“Do you sort through his trash looking for hair clippings?”
“Maybe.”
“Are you a Belieber with Bieber Fever?”
The giggle that falls from me is relentless and I nearly drop the golf club.
“How do you even know those words?”
He grins.
“My sister has a daughter, which is where she places the blame for her ludicrous knowledge of his song lyrics, even though I know it’s really her with the cardboard cutout.” I laugh again. “And suggesting this bet doesn’t mean I’m thinking there might be another date.” He steps in close to me and lightly rests the palm of his hand on the back of my neck, his thumb tracing the edge of my jaw. “I’m guaranteeing there will be another date.” His eyes flicker to my lips, then back up to my eyes.
I’m not sure how to respond. The laughter from just a moment before has been sucked out of the space around us and replaced with a weird tension that makes the hairs on my body stand to attention. I feel jittery and unsure what to do with my hands.
When he rests his forehead against mine and I can feel his breath on my face, I want him to kiss me. I don’t really know him and I know it would be way too fast for a girl like me, but at the same time, I can’t explain the way I feel right now.
The closest descriptor I can think of is that it feels like I’ve been shaken up inside, like the nuts and bolts that normally hold me together have fallen loose and I might collapse at any moment and melt into the ground.
After another beat, Mack steps back, releasing his hold on me, and it takes every effort I have to not show in my facial expression everything he just made me feel.
I let out a controlled breath even though I feel like gasping for air.
“Sounds like a good bet to me.”
* * * * *
Two hours later, we’ve pretty much done it all. We’ve completed a round of mini-golf, which Mack won by a landslide, followed by three trips on the go-karts, one hard collision in the bumper boats, we each took a turn in the batting cages, and about twenty minutes playing Skeeball in the arcade.
“So, I know we are somewhere in the limbo between lunch and dinner, but are you hungry?” he asks as I feed his tickets into the ticket counter.
“Sure. What sounds good?” I snatch the receipt that spits out of the machine. “Eighty-five tickets! Nice job!” He takes the receipt from my hands and we start walking towards the prize booth.
“Well, I’ve been hearing pretty awesome things about a place called In-N-Out Burger, and I was hoping to try that.”
I turn quickly and slap my hand flat against his chest, halting his forward movement.
“Woah, woah, woah. You’ve never had In-N-Out before? Where are you from? Mars?”
“Indiana, actually,” he responds, raising an eyebrow. With a laugh, he adds, “and somehow I feel like I’ve offended you.”
“Well, Indy, the fact that you have lived in SoCal for several weeks and haven’t been to an In-N-Out Burger means you have been making horrible friends since you got here.” He laughs. “Lets cash out your tickets and ride back. There’s an In-N-Out a few blocks from my apartment.”
After taking forever to decide on a prize, Mack finally picks a small stuffed animal and a few glittery jelly bracelets, which he quickly deposits into my hands.
“Make sure you wear those bracelets on our next date,” he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and leading me towards the exit. Of course, I don’t wait that long, and the bracelets are quickly slipped onto my wrist.
When we finally get to In-N-Out, the line is crazy long, per usual. Mack looks concerned.
“Do you want to come back another time when it isn’t so busy?”
I laugh.
“This place is always busy. But it’ll be worth the wait, I promise.”
He just smiles and joins me in line, taking my hand and interlocking our fingers again. I peak up at him while he studies the menu. I might not date often, but I’m also not blind. I usually notice attractive men, but I usually try to get to know guys better before I allow myself to develop an interest. Who they are, what they value, how they approach the world. Why would I want to begin something with someone who I have nothing in common with or who makes really horrible choices? It sounds like a waste of time and energy.
My relationship with Mack so far is different. Yes, he has seemed nothing but genuine and thoughtful during our interactions, but I know almost nothing about him. We’ve laughed a lot today and talked non-stop, but our topics have remained fairly surface level, which I know is typical for a first date.
But I’ve never before felt a pull to someone, let alone to someone I met less than 24 hours ago. And then there’s the way he looks at me. I feel like I’m in a low-budget chick flick the way he makes me weak in the knees. And I’m a soccer girl - I have kick ass knees. It makes me feel idiotic, because my logical brain is telling me I’m too overwhelmed by the physical rush he gives me when he touches me lightly or looks at me like he can’t get enough of me - the physical and hormonal parts of a new relationship.
I shake off that thought, though. I may not be able to put it into words just yet, but this thing with Mack feels special. Unique. My interest isn’t being guided by my logical brain, and maybe that’s the issue.
Once we finally get to the front of the line and place our orders, we nab an open table outside and wait for our number to be called.
“So, we’ve spent the whole day talking without really talking,” he says, taking a sip of his chocolate shake. “What’s your story, RJ?”
I fold my hands under my chin and prop myself on the table with my elbows. Time for the get-to-know-you part.
“Not much to tell, really.
I’m 21, and I’m in college studying to be a high school English teacher. I’ve lived in SoCal my entire life. That’s about it, really.”
“Why English?”
“I had a really amazing English teacher when I was in high school. I really enjoyed his class, but he also helped me deal with some personal issues and he really cared about me as a person.”
“Very cool,” he responds.
“Yeah. I spent my lunches in his classroom, usually reading. We had some amazing conversations and he showed me you can use your position as a teacher to invest in people.” I take a sip of my soda. “Plus he was my coach. So I’m hoping to do that as well.”
“Oh really? What did he coach you in?”
“Football,” I reply.
His eyebrows fly up.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I was the kicker on my high school team.”
“Wow, that’s really cool,” he says, just as our number is called. “Be right back.” Once he’s back with our food, we pause so he can take in the gloriousness of the In-N-Out Double-Double. I just stare at him while he takes his first bite and then groans at the taste.
“Live up to the hype?” I ask.
He nods, then moves back to our earlier conversation. “So, you’re a football fanatic?”
“Well, I’m not a fanatic. I really do enjoy football - playing and watching. One of the reasons I joined the team was to piss off my dad, though. He took huge issue with the fact his little girl was covered in sweat and dirt and getting slapped on the ass by fifty guys every day.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“There is. But we can save that for next time.”
“Next time?” He asks, with a quirked eyebrow.
I just smile.
“Anyway, the real reason I played was to keep my legs in shape for soccer during the off season,” I say as I squeeze out some spread onto my fries and throw a few in my mouth.
He coughs, then takes a sip of his soda.
“Really?”
“Yeah, my soccer coach was a real bitch. And not that ‘endearing bitch’ you see coaching championship teams. She was just awful. I can only imagine how much better my team would have done during playoffs during my senior year if we’d had a better coach.” I pause, taking a bite from my own burger. “Anyway, I’m hoping to teach English and coach soccer. But who knows if that will all work out.”
Just as Mack is beginning to reply, I hear a squeal and a tiny voice shout “Uncle Mack!” before a little blur runs past me and plows into my date’s legs.
“Hey, baby girl!” he says, wiping his hands and lifting the toddler up into his arms for a tight squeeze. “What are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you the same thing,” comes a voice from behind me. I look over my shoulder and see a stunning brunette, all long legs and brightness. “I thought you had some ‘unbreakable commitment’ today. You’re just getting food?”
Mack shifts in his seat and a look of embarrassment crosses his face, but he covers it by adjusting the little girl in his arms.
“Nice, Amy,” he mutters with a sigh. “Amy, meet RJ. My unbreakable commitment.”
Internally, I’m swooning and barely register as Amy’s eyes glance quickly between Mack and me.
“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, reaching my hand out to her. “Nice to meet you, Amy,” I respond.
She smiles at me, taking my hand in a firm shake.
“Nice to meet you, RJ. My little brother didn’t tell me he had a date today.” Her smile grows larger, practically taking up her entire face as she looks back at him.
“Oh, we aren’t on a date,” I say, grabbing my soda and taking a sip.
Amy’s smile drops just a bit. “Oh,” is all she says.
“Yeah, I mean, would you date a guy who screams from the top of buildings like a crazy person and brings you dead flowers?” I fake a creeped-out shiver. “No thanks. I’m just here for the free food.”
Amy looks confused, but I can see Mack’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter out of the corner of my eye.
Without giving her any further information, Mack interrupts.
“So, what are you up to today, Amy?”
Amy quickly recuperates and focuses her attention back on Mack.
“Kevin and I are celebrating our anniversary tonight, so Anna and I are grabbing some food before I drop her off at the sitter’s. I’m supposed to be there in,” she glances at her watch, “twenty minutes and she lives in Pasadena, so I better hurry because I’m already at least fifteen minutes late.”
“I’m sorry, Ames. I didn’t realize it was your anniversary. I can watch her,” Mack says, keeping Anna sitting in his lap, where she is happily stuffing a fry into her mouth.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Amy responds, reaching out for Anna. “I don’t want to interrupt your… non-date.” She still looks slightly confused about it, which makes me want to laugh again.
“It’s really not a problem,” I pipe in. “I only live a few blocks from here. And we’re heading back to my place soon. We can feed Anna.”
Amy looks at me, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“You sure?” I glance over at Mack and see a happily perplexed expression on his face, but he just gives Amy a short nod. “Well, alright. I’ll call Chloe and let her know I won’t need her after all. Her mom practically forces her to babysit, so I’m sure she’d rather enjoy a Saturday night with friends anyway.” She smiles again. “Thanks a lot. I’ll walk over to get her when we get home?”
“Absolutely. I’ll probably swing through your place to grab some of her stuff, but we’ll spend the evening at mine. If something changes, just shoot me a text.”
“Thanks Mack.” She leans over and kisses Mack on the cheek, and then looks to me. “It was nice to meet you RJ.”
I smile at her, and then she’s out the door.
Over the next twenty minutes, Mack and I are wrapped up in Anna as he orders her food and we get her fed. She really is adorable, all cherub cheeks and chocolate curls.
“How old is she?” I ask Mack as we walk out the door.
“Four next month. Hopefully we’re edging out of the terrible twosomes, which extended into the thrillingly terrible threesomes,” he says as he swings Anna up into the air above his head. She giggles and my heart glows. “Sorry about our little date-crasher here.”
“I’m not stressed. I love kids. I’m glad we were there to help.”
“Yeah, me too.”
After unlocking our bikes outside, he lifts Anna up to sit on his shoulders and we start the fifteen minute walk back to my apartment. Mack guides his bike in one hand, his other clasped firmly around Anna’s leg, while I ride aimless circles around them as we make our way down the street of houses.
“Amy shot me a text last night asking if I could babysit. If I had known it was her anniversary I would have figured something out instead of just telling her I was busy.”
“Correction. You told her you had an ‘unbreakable commitment.’” I glance at his face as I circle him and I see that same flash of embarrassment. He’s silent for a moment, his brows pulled together, and I worry that I’ve somehow made him think I’m mocking him for real instead of for fun.
“Yeah, well…” he starts, but trails off without finishing his thought.
The silence between us becomes uncomfortable for the first time. Everything up until now has been easy. Our conversation, our teasing, my shy glances and his bold stares. Even our silence has been easy and free from that awkward need to fill the space. After a minute or two I finally just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“I’ve only ever had one boyfriend,” I say, unsure exactly where I’m going with this. Mack looks up at me briefly, then back at the street in front of him. “We dated in high school. He was always uncomfortable with the fact that I hu
ng out with the guys, that I could play ball. He was always on me about how I dressed and how I sat and how I joked around with the guys. He made it seem like I was defective because I played gritty sports with a bunch of meat heads instead of wanting to spend time at the mall.”
“Sounds like he was more concerned about how you playing sports made him feel, rather than supporting it because you enjoy it,” Mack cuts in.
I stop riding in circles around Mack and pull up next to him, not making eye contact, just rolling slowly next to him as he walks.
“He was a tool. He wound up cheating on me with a cheerleader. So cliché, right? For the rest of high school, I actually questioned myself as an athlete, wondering if I would have to quit the mud baths and sweaty, dirty behavior if I wanted to ever date again, as if there’s something wrong with women who play sports. But when you’re barely 16 and surrounded by girls who spend hours on hair and makeup and clothes, and also surrounded by a bunch of guys who had so much to say about the female body and what these girls would wear and how they looked… I just really struggled to see myself in anything but a negative light. You know?”
We turn the corner and I can see my apartment complex at the end of the block.
“I’ve only had the one boyfriend, and I think that negative attitude kept guys away for the rest of high school. But I’ve been on some dates here and there in college now that I finally have more confidence in who I am and what I do. Nothing serious, just random guys. And even though I’m comfortable with myself now, I’ve always played the casual card, my approach to dating has almost been to smack guys over the head with who I am. My therapist told me it was a way of weeding through the people who weren’t worth my time to make sure that the shitty guys who care about superficial things don’t have a chance to hurt me. I always wear the same clothes I wore that day. No effort. Just, ‘here is me’.” I pause, trying to sort through my thoughts quickly. There’s a point, here, and I need to make it.
The Keeper Page 4
