A Girl Worth Waiting For (The Worthy Series Book 1)

by S. M. Smith

  “This is Caleb Mathis.”

  “Hi Caleb. This is Jessie St. James, we met the other night at Club Santos.” Shelby stops typing but stares at her screen. Totally not being inconspicuous that she’s going to eavesdrop.

  “I remember. I assume you got my gift then?” There’s a slight anticipation in his voice. “I apologize for the stalking. I didn’t really get to properly introduce myself and I was hoping you’d allow me a second chance to do so.”

  I don’t know if I should be flattered or embarrassed that I caught the attention of a hot guy in a bar.

  “It’s ok. The bouquet was incredibly generous, and quite beautiful. Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome. So I don’t mean to be so forward but I need to get to a meeting. Would you like to join me for lunch on Wednesday?” I had only called to say thank you for the flowers. I knew for sure that I wasn’t ready to start dating again. Especially with someone I met in a bar while I was clearly intoxicated. Shelby is now eyeballing me over her laptop screen and I feel the pressure of her and Daphne over me.

  “I would love to.”

  “Great. Do you know where Café on the Corner is?”

  “I do. What time were you thinking?”

  “How does 12:30 sound?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Well then, I’ll see you on Wednesday, Jessie.”

  “I’ll see you then too, Caleb.” I hang up the phone to see Shelby hastily getting back to work.

  “Now,” she says over the clicking of her mouse without taking her eyes off her screen, “that didn’t kill you, did it?”

  Chapter Five

  It is too cold for the peep toe wedges and the skirt that I’m wearing, but Daphne was insistent that I look hot for our lunch date. The fall air is getting colder each day and I am ready to break out my riding boots and scarves, but she insisted that these wedges would show my strength and confidence but also a playful flirty side. Honestly I don’t care what impression I give, I am pretty sure I still didn’t want to start a relationship with someone I met in a bar.

  My session ran a few minutes late which, in turn, is causing me to run late, and instead of letting me cancel, or even reschedule for that matter, Daphne practically throws me out the door and tells me to hurry. I am walking at a pace that would normally be considered a light jog and am trying not to literally run into anyone while trying to get there on time. I’m nearly out of breath by the time I make it to the little café a few blocks from the studio. I’m pretty sure I look like a hot mess with wild hair and a wrinkly white blouse, my coat half on and my purse hanging from my elbow. I so totally should have canceled.

  The restaurant is a quaint little place with a wrought iron gated dining area next to the sidewalk. I send up a quick prayer asking God to not let us be seated out here. I may be out of breath, but I’m starting to shiver from the biting wind. Caleb is just checking in with the hostess when I walk in. I nearly turn around and leave at first sight of him.

  He stands tall, in a neatly tailored, charcoal suit, trimmed to show off a slim waistline and strong, sturdy shoulders. He flashes a broad smile that stars a set of perfectly straight pearly whites and I kind of melt right here on the welcome mat. He reaches out to shake my hand and my arm suddenly feels like it is made of Jell-O.

  “Hello, Jessie. Thank you so much for coming.” He leans in and brushes a sweet peck on my cheek before drawing back with another award winning smile. I catch a whiff of his high end cologne and fight not to swoon. He holds his hand out toward the dining room. “Shall we?”

  I give him a timid smile and follow the hostess to our table. He is a perfect gentleman- he even pulls my chair out for me. I start to wonder if I really met him at the bar.

  “Thank you for agreeing to lunch. I was afraid I maybe had overstepped myself with the flowers.” He looks down with a guilty smile.

  “Honestly, I was surprised to receive them. I have to admit that by the time we had met Friday, I had had a few too many shots and honestly couldn’t remember much of that night, much less our encounter.” His eyes bug out and I realize too late what I said.

  “Wow. You really know how to make a guy feel special,” he says taking a sip of water. I try to regain whatever composure I can muster. I guess it really doesn’t matter what I want, this little lunch date may not last much longer if I don’t pull it together.

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t done,” I say while gesturing to our surroundings, “this in a very long time. Or ever really.”

  “I’ve never eaten here either.” He gives me a curious look and I realize that I’m going to have to explain my situation sooner or later, so I might as well get it out now.

  “No, I mean dating. I haven’t dated since I was in high school.”

  “Oh.” He sounds like the breath has been knocked out of him, probably bracing himself for the worst.

  “Let’s just say that when you met me on Friday, I was doing my best to forget about the only person I’ve really ever been in a relationship with.” I don’t want to bog him down with all the details. Besides, I’m pretty sure that this may be our only date so I think this half-truth should suffice.

  “I see. Well, may I ask just how long you were in this relationship?”

  “We had been together 10 years. We were high school sweethearts that miraculously made it through separate colleges, in separate states.”

  “Wow. I imagine that after all that time, the break up has to be very hard for you.”

  “Hence the many, many shots of tequila.” I smile apologetically. He counters with a sympathetic smile. He seems to be understanding so I relax just a little. Maybe not all hope is lost. The waitress returns and takes our order before we are able to return to conversation.

  “So you’re a photographer?” He blushes at my look of surprise. “When I Googled you a studio popped up.”

  “Just out of curiosity, how did you know to Google me? I don’t even remember telling you my name.”

  “Your friend Daphne. After I sent the drink over, I saw you had to be escorted outside. I was concerned that somehow my drink had made you sick so I walked over and spoke to her. She assured me you were fine, just had had too many.”

  “Hmm. Well, isn’t she just a peach?” That traitor; she didn’t even mention this! We will have words later, but for now I shake it from my attention and turn back to making an attempt at conversation. “Yes, I am a photographer. Daphne and I co-own the All of Creation Studio actually.”

  We go through the typical first date conversations: each explaining what we do for a living and how much we like it, where we grew up and went to school. He is an investment banker from Kansas City, apparently a very good one as he has a very long list of perks from his connections. After our food arrives, we dive into our interests.

  “And when I’m not shooting or hanging out here in town, I spend time with the youth group from my church back home. Mostly that means going to their extracurricular events like football games and school plays, but occasionally I will help with camps and weekend trips."

  “That sounds fun. So you like football then?” His interest peaks at the mention of some pigskin.

  “I love all things fall, but mostly because of football, yes. I don’t think I’ve missed a home high school game since before I was in high school.”

  “Really, how do you feel about the NFL though?”

  I put my fork down and take my napkin to dab my face because I’m about to admit an embarrassing fact, one most Missourians don’t take very kindly to. Since he’s a Kansas City native, I may be tanking any prospect of a relationship of any sort.

  “So I have to confess, I love football in all forms, local, collegiate and even the NFL, but,” here we go, “I am not a Chiefs fan.” He looks like he fakes disappointment, but I can’t be sure.

  “What? At least don’t tell me you’re a Rams fan.” He gives me a smile so I think it’s safe to tell him the truth. I laugh with relief that he’s not taking offense
to my admission.

  “My dad grew up in southern Arkansas and his whole family has been Saints fans since the beginning of time. I’m very much a daddy’s girl so I cheered along with him every Sunday until the Saints became my team too. But I will say that I don’t mind watching the Chiefs play. Since Arrowhead Stadium is so close, I still go to watch some good games.”

  “Well, how would you like to go to Sunday’s home game with me?”

  I don’t know what to say. I love the atmosphere of professional stadiums. Especially when you get seats next to diehard fans who make watching their reaction way more entertaining than the game itself. I think about the last time I went to a game. Jake, Stephen and I took Maddy for her birthday in late November last year. It was freezing and I spent the whole game attached to Jake to stay warm. The memory must have deflated me a bit.

  “I’m sorry if I’m being presumptuous. I just thought we were having a great conversation and you obviously love the game so much. I think we could have a great time.”

  “No, it’s not that. I would love to go. I just…I was just remembering the last game I went to.”

  “With him. Your ex.”

  “Yes.” I smile sheepishly.

  “You can tell me if I’m overstepping my boundaries for a first date, but may I ask what happened?”

  Should I tell him everything now? Will he run for the hills and never look back? We are having a great conversation and I’m honestly very much looking forward to the possibility of a second date. He did ask though….

  “I made this promise, more to myself and God than to anyone in particular, that I wouldn’t have sex until I was married.” Deep breaths. Not everyone takes that very well, but Caleb’s face seems to show that he gets it so far so I continue hopefully. “We were two weeks away from our wedding night when I found Jake in bed with my maid of honor.”

  “I see.” He adjusts in his seat and my chest starts to fall. I should have known he wouldn’t be as accepting of my promise. Most people, not just guys, think the idea is archaic, stone-age even, and in today’s society, impossible. But I’m glad I have been so successful because otherwise, being in the position Jake put me in now, I don’t think I could ever recover from something like that.

  “Look, you don’t have to… I just...” I never know what to say to someone who doesn’t want to accept my commitment. ”I don’t think I should have to defend what I believe in or any choice I make to anyone. If you—”

  “Actually, I was going to say,” he smiles as if the beginning to my little soapbox was amusing, “that I understand just how strong you must have felt your relationship must have been. He obviously didn’t, but I can see why you would have needed as many shots as you did.” His smile turns playful and I relax a bit again.

  “Thank you. But you must know, I still plan on keeping this promise. Regardless of wherever you and I or anyone else go, I do not intend on sleeping with anyone until I have walked down the aisle and said ‘I do’,” I tell him. As an afterthought I add, “Not that I’m thinking we’re getting married or anything.” He just chuckles at my addition.

  “I understand. And I admire your boldness to be so upfront with me. It’s refreshing actually.” I let go of the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Refreshing? Huh. Well I’ve never been told my bluntness is refreshing, but I guess I can accept that.

  The waitress comes by to drop off our bill and clear our plates. He picks up the check without looking at it and hands it and his card back to the waitress before checking his watch. I check the time too. I left the office over an hour ago and have plenty of work I need to do, but didn’t realize just how much I’m enjoying myself. Well, until at least five minutes ago. I do need to get back, but Daphne won’t care if I take a little bit longer. When I tell her that our date was going well, she won’t care how long I’m gone, but she will be mad at me that I brought Jake up. Oh well, too late to avoid that topic now.

  “So the Chiefs are playing the Panthers this week. Can I assume that you’ll be sporting some Carolina blue, then?” I chuckle.

  “You know, I just might have something red I can wear.”

  Chapter Six

  The rest of the week drags on fairly monotonously. Caleb and I speak on the phone a few times and I’m getting excited about the game. But not as excited to be getting back to normal things like hanging with the youth group. Of course it would be a little different now. Jake didn’t really join me for my trips back home much so I’m not concerned about running into him, but I am concerned about the girls I usually hang out with.

  I typically chaperone a group made of mostly freshman and sophomore girls, with a couple of upper-class ladies. For the last year these girls have been infatuated with all things wedding. They hang onto every detail of my story like they would a Twilight movie, but now they tend to ask questions about how I’m feeling and if I have heard from Jake. I do my best to bring up other topics more on their level, but they always bring things back to Jake and my impending breakup recovery. I look to the start of football season to be more exciting than my doomed love life.

  I drive the nearly two and a half hours back to my dad’s house to wait for Stephen to pick me up. I decided to stay with my dad after the game so that we could spend some time together on Saturday since I will be at the Chiefs game all day Sunday. I unload my overnight bag in my old room and browse the walls again. This time the pictures and medals bring more excitement than nostalgia. I’m about to get back to something I know, back to a place that doesn’t entirely revolve around Jake, though he did spend so much time there. I had friends and teachers and participated in various activities without him in high school that I could get back to. To say I am ready for something that doesn’t bring him back every few seconds, is, well, something of an understatement.

  The doorbell rings and I grab my black and gold Wildcats hoodie and run down the stairs ready for my trip down memory lane.

  ***

  Walking back into the high school football stadium brings back all sorts of memories, mostly good ones for me, but not so much for Stephen as indicated by the semi-pained look on his face. His time here wasn’t as pleasant as mine was but it wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part. Stephen played wide receiver on the football team and was really good. Up until about three years ago, he carried the school record for most touchdown passes in a season. He also ran track and cross country and was nothing short of an academic scholar. He was hot and popular and nearly had his own fan club. The head of said club was Zoe Hadley.

  Zoe was a junior varsity cheerleader, popular but not queen bee by any means. She was cute and tiny and sweet, well at least on the surface. Stephen and I had just made our vows of abstinence when they first started dating, but Zoe wasn’t about to make it easy on him to keep such a resolute promise. She eventually managed to get him to break it after a game one night. He took the experience really hard and fell for her big time. They stayed together for a couple of months longer; the whole time she did everything in her power to get him to sleep with her again. He was persistent though and she ended everything rather quickly. After she went missing for a week immediately following their break up, he got really worried about her, so he went to her house to check on her. At first she wouldn’t talk to him, but he again was persistent and she finally explained that he had gotten her pregnant. She also explained that she had been gone to have the pregnancy terminated.

  Stephen wasn’t the same after that. He couldn’t even really explain what happened until well after graduation and even then, he told Jake before he told me. I haven’t asked, because his sex life isn’t really any of my business, but I’m fairly confident that he hasn’t been in a serious-enough relationship since then. And I know that even though he loves hanging out with the youth of our church, being at this stadium, in this atmosphere where he was tempted and led astray, he has a hard time being comfortable here.

  He is here for me though. He won’t admit it, but he is. Zoe aside, we thrived
here. He on the field during the game and me on the field during halftime. An unlikely pair, but we made it work.

  “Do you see the group?” He pulls me out of my little stroll down his memory lane and I start looking for the group. We see the youth pastor sitting in the very middle of the home bleachers, surrounded by about thirty teenagers, and make our way up. We get to the group in time to stand up to cheer our boys onto the field and for the National Anthem and prayer. The girls are all squeally, pulling me away from Stephen and the pastor and exclaiming all about who is wanting whom to ask them to homecoming and I am immediately relieved that my ditched wedding is no longer the hot topic of choice.

  The first quarter goes by and we are down by a field goal and the temperature is starting to drop below hoodie weather. Weather in Missouri has always been wacky, and growing up here one would think that I would be better prepared, but…I’m not. So during the second quarter I start to feel the icy metal bleachers through my jeans, which is by far my least favorite part of football season. As soon as half time is called, I jump up to circulate some blood.

  I make my way to the front of the bleachers and onto the rubber track below to watch the half time show. Most people prefer to watch marching bands at a higher level to see what they are creating with their formations, but I prefer to be on the ground, watching lines and their feet. From down here, it isn’t hard to point out the freshman who has to count out loud when they are supposed to be playing or the senior who has the steps memorized so much so that they never look anywhere but straight forward through the entire routine. The music is way better here too.

  The band is just marching off the track and the cheerleaders are taking their positions when I see Stephen walking my way with a blanket over one arm and a Styrofoam cup in each hand. I meet him half way back to the bleacher steps and he hands me a steaming cup of creamy hot cocoa, my third favorite thing about football season. He then hands me a blanket.