“It’s just that… I had a late breakfast.”
“How late,” John probes. I’m pretty sure I know what he’s getting at.
I giggle and go back to plan A, “Okay, maybe I am anorexic.”
“Were you eating when I called?” he pries, amused, “because your mouth sounded full when you picked up the phone.” Ooh, outed! I knew that would come back to bite me in the ass.
“Fine! I was eating. But I came anyway, because I just didn’t want you to have to eat alone. Which you have to admit is really nice of me. I’m here purely out of compassion for you. So, you’re welcome.”
“That is so generous of you!” John jokes, with no knowledge of the fact that this is the second time I’ve heard him use that joke. Then he adds, “Which reminds me to ask: what was that yell all about?”
“How did my generosity remind you to ask about that?” I am obviously stalling.
“It didn’t, but I’ve been meaning to bring it up, and what better time than while you’re feeling generous?”
“Well the answer isn’t that exciting actually. There was a mouse.” Oh, gross, now he thinks I have mice in my place. Way to entice him to come over someday. Smooth, Sam. Really smooth.
“Really? Are you sure it wasn’t a rat?” I’m starting to think he doesn’t believe me.
“No. What’s the difference?” I play along.
“Well, what did it look like?” he taunts.
“It was brownish, and furry, and fast—with a tail. I hardly saw it.”
“And it made you happy?” Why is he still smiling?
“No. Why would it make me happy?”
“I don’t know, but your scream didn’t sound scared, so much as it sounded joyous.” My face goes pale. He laughs at me compassionately, “It’s okay for you to be excited that I called, Samantha. When you said you’d go out with me, I was screaming inside, too.” He says all the right things.
~
When we’re done eating, he leads me by the hand to the water’s edge, where we casually stroll beside the breaking waves. To see us, so comfortable around each other, you might not have recognized that we had only known each other since yesterday. Of course for me, this was already the third time we were hanging out, but he was only on day two of the Samantha Harper experience. Somehow, he still acts as if he’s known me intimately for years.
“I’m sorry you wasted your romantic picnic move on a day when I wasn’t hungry.” Why would I bring that up? He’s probably forgotten the whole thing by now, so I have to assume I brought this up because I don’t like to let a person forget so easily the ways in which I’m an idiot. Thankfully, he has his own interpretation of my statement.
“So you agree that it was romantic?” he’s the one taking a little self-booster now. I can respect that.
“Romance is one of your best qualities, so far,” I say, in hopes of encouraging more of it with positive reinforcement.
“It’s your fault, you know. Ever since I found out you’re exactly what I’m looking for, I’ve been forced to step it up.”
I wanna be flattered, but I’m a little confused right now, “So at what point did you find out?”
He thinks about it, and then, “I think it was the moment I saw you.”
Okay, so now I’m a lot confused, as that was not the answer I was hoping for. If he had said, “This morning when I saw you”—fine. Or, “I fell for you when you made that joke about being anorexic”—okay. Or even, “It was the moment when you turned me down for sex, and I realized that you were gonna make me earn you.” Any of those would have been acceptable answers, because all of them would have come after the moment that changed things in this do-over. But if he knew from the moment he laid eyes on me, then why didn’t he call me after I had sex with him?!
“So what happened next?” I retort, half-forgetting that he has no idea what I’m talking about.
“Next, I got to know more about you, and found out how much we have in common, and I knew I was fucked,” he says whimsically.
Still it seems clear to me that for some inexplicable reason, he just feels more strongly about me because I didn’t go home with him last night.
“Do you think you would still feel that way about me if I’d gone home with you last night?” I pry, because curiosity has put a muffle on my good judgment.
“Definitely!” What a liar! “I mean, it’s for the best that you didn’t, though.” Okay, not totally a liar. But still, why does it matter?
“Really? You think it would’ve made a difference?”
“No. I’m just glad we didn’t, because you seem really great, and I want to get to know you better.”
“And everyone knows it’s impossible to get to know a person after you’ve had sex!” I’m joking to his face, but inside, I’m not really.
“It’s just different,” he justifies unemotionally. “I think you feel different. Don’t you?” No. I still liked you after we did it.
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t know. It’s like once you do that, then that’s what the relationship becomes all about. And then it’s harder to see if there’s anything else there. And I like you enough that I wanna find out what we could be.”
Wow, that was actually a good reason. I mean, if that’s how he sees it, then no wonder he gave up on me so fast. Now I feel stupid for having secretly gotten mad at him over not calling me in an alternate reality that he doesn’t even know existed. Now I feel stupid for doubting him, and even stupider for having jumped into bed with him last time.
I think he can feel me calming down, and opening up my heart to him, because he pulls me close and holds me in his arms. I feel good. Warm. And actually cared for by a guy I just met last night.
“So,” he starts in, “why don’t you have any plans on your birthday?”
“I do. They’re throwing me a surprise party later.”
He laughs, “Leave it to you to know about it.”
“Wanna come?”
“Really?” I’m surprised to find out that he’s surprised that I would invite him. Little does he know, that he is just the proof I need to show my judgmental co-workers that I can fix anything! That said, I don’t want it to be a total ambush, so I decide to warn him about one little thing…
“You should know, my parents are gonna be there. So before you answer, I just wanna put the premature meeting of the folks on the table.”
He laughs, “I would love to meet the people who made and molded you into the quirky little package that you are. Yes! Let’s do this thing!”
Wow. That’s a lot more enthusiasm than even I was expecting. And he is so not afraid of meeting my parents! This has never happened before, which begs the question, “Is something wrong with this guy?”
No! He’s just sane, and realizes that parents are people, too. It doesn’t have to mean anything… That said, if it does mean something, that’s not a bad thing either. Now let’s just hope my parents don’t scare him off from the whole idea of dating me. Can’t worry about that now, I need this win. I can’t believe he’s coming to the party with me! If I had known it was this easy, I would’ve stopped sleeping with people ages ago!
Chapter 14
Knowing about your own surprise party is a great opportunity to be awesome. This time, when my boss calls to ask me to perform the awful task of going into the office on a Saturday, I couldn’t be more cheery.
“You’re the boss. I wanna do whatever is gonna make you happy!” I’ll bet he never knew I was such a “Yes Man” before.
When Lacey calls to finalize our plans for tonight, I tell her about my errand at 7:30, and that I’ll meet her at the restaurant at 8pm. She insists on picking me up, I imagine because she’s responsible for getting me to the surprise party. Only problem is I’ve already made plans with John to pick me up and run the “errand” with me.
“Oh, and by the way, I invited him to join us for dinner.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” she
says, exactly like she did last time.
“Yeah, it’s my birthday. I want him to be there.”
“Sure, as long as you don’t think it’ll be too uncomfortable,” she says again, uncharacteristically understandingly.
Ohhhhhh. That’s what she was talking about last time. She knows that my boss and my parents and all my co-workers will be there. This wasn’t about her at all. She really sincerely is concerned about whether or not I’m ready to introduce a guy I’ve known for one day to pretty much everybody in my life. That is so sweet and thoughtful of her to try to warn me. I’m just realizing how torn she must’ve been at this point between wanting to tell me and not wanting to ruin the surprise.
In normal circumstances Lacey would be right, too. I would want to get to know John better before introducing him to my whole world. But this time it’s different. I know how impressed my boss and my friends will be that I pulled off this feat, and actually found my guy on the night I determined. Also, I’ve already warned John that my parents would be there, and he seems okay with it. Let’s just hope they don’t embarrass me too much with asking him weird questions or telling him about all the dumb things I did as a teenager.
“Thanks for worrying about it, Lacey, but I think it’ll be fun for John to start meeting people.”
“What do you mean by ‘people’?” Lacey demands.
Oh, crap, did I just give away that I know about the surprise? Think fast, Sam.
“Oh, um, I just meant you—since you guys didn’t really get to talk at the bar—and hopefully things will continue to go well, and he’ll meet everyone else soon after that.”
“Yeah…” she hesitates to warn me again, I can tell.
I don’t want her to blow it, so I cut her off at the pass, “Listen, I should go get ready.”
“I really think we should head over to the restaurant together,” she insists. She’s clearly concerned about getting me to the office for the surprise.
“It’s okay. John is coming to pick me up. But I’ll text you right when we’re leaving.”
“Fine!” she seems annoyed. “But don’t forget, cuz if you don’t text me when you leave, I may not be at the restaurant on time. And I don’t want to leave you waiting for me on your birthday.”
“You know what, I’ll even text you a second time as I get to my office to pick up that thing. I can give you a play by play, every step of the way, if you want.” I don’t mind helping her pull off this surprise.
“Yeah, do that. Give me the play by play. When you leave the house, when you get to the office, when you leave the office, I want to know your ETA the whole way.”
I wonder how I would’ve responded to this manic need to know my every move if I didn’t know why she wanted so badly to know it.
“You got it!” I agree.
~
John and I end up spending that whole day together, not counting a short separation before the party, during which time I shower, change, and have that discussion with Lacey about our plans.
John shows up again looking dapper. Not that he needed any improvements, but he cleans up very nicely. The aquamarine color of his shirt deepens the shade of his eyes, and the way he’s got his hair swooped back highlights his perfect bone structure and square, manly jaw. Right now, in his best going-out clothes, he almost looks intimidatingly good. All that intimidation melts away though, when I see how impressed he is with the way I’ve cleaned up.
“Wow. You look great!” He seems genuinely proud to be my date.
“You do, too,” I reciprocate.
He kisses me hello, and it feels so good that I accidentally let out a little moan.
“Sorry,” I apologize for no good reason.
He’s also unsure why I’m apologizing, when if anything, my little unexpected moan has made him as hot as I feel.
“Do we have to go to this party?” he teases, reinforcing my own desire to go back up to my place and release all this sexual tension between us.
Obviously we have to go to the party, but I am starting to wonder how I’m going to get through the night, in front of my parents and co-workers, without having a spontaneous orgasm every time I look at him. I may just have to pull him into the supply closet and rip off his clothes before the night is done.
I start doing the math in my head: if you count last night as our first date, and this afternoon as our second date, technically, doesn’t that make tonight our third date? We did separate for two and a half hours there in the middle. How many hours do you have to spend apart before it counts as a new date?
Okay, Sam, this is the opposite of how you’re supposed to be thinking! You got a second chance at this guy, and you will wait until the third date to have sex with him, even if the third date could technically qualify as the fourth date. Tonight is not your night. Get over it!
I pull myself away from his addictive embrace, “We’d better go.”
He laughs at my apparent struggle with his proposal and we get in his car.
~
As we approach my office building, I pull out my phone and dial Lacey.
“I’ve gotta let them know I’m here,” I explain to John.
“Hi Lacey,” I say when she picks up, “we’ve just entered my office building.”
“You’re in the building?” she says loudly, as if speaking to people around her.
“Yes, I’m just getting in the elevator.”
“Oh, you’re getting in the elevator to go up to your office,” she repeats informatively.
We’re just about at my floor, so now it’s my turn to take care of some important business, “Yeah, sorry I have to run this errand tonight, Lacey, but you know,” the elevator doors open, just the timing I’d planned for the next part of my sentence, “my boss is so good to me, and I feel like I owe him my best.”
The lights come on and everyone yells, “Surprise!” Nailed it.
Now is the part where I’m supposed to act surprised, and I genuinely am. Not about the party, which I knew was coming, but about the way everyone is staring at John, as if he were a ghost. I mean he could be. That wouldn’t be any more weird than the fact that I got a do-over, and nobody seems to remember the first time this all happened. But they’re all staring at him because they can’t believe I showed up with a guy the day after I called them all to set me up with the love of my life.
Are they really so surprised that I pulled this off? Don’t these people know that I can fix anything? Or maybe they’re all just mesmerized by his disarming good looks.
John smiles happily, as is his way, though I’m pretty sure this is more attention on him than he was expecting.
“This is John,” I explain, but it doesn’t seem to clear up their confusion.
Lacey steps in to clarify things for them, “She met him last night.”
John is more than a little embarrassed by her outing the fact that I brought a guy from last night, so he clarifies, “It feels like we’ve known each other much longer than that though.” Awww.
Meanwhile, John probably doesn’t get the context of why it was important for these people to know that I met him last night. Looking back on it, the second time I met John for the first time, I’m not sure I explained the whole “plan a party to meet a guy” thing that everyone else in the room is acutely aware of. Now that I think about it, without that context, I can see why her comment about meeting him last night may have made him slightly uncomfortable.
“So last night was another overwhelming success,” Henry announces, further confusing John, while making me look like some kind of floozy, who brings a new guy around after every night out at the bars. “I’m starting to believe that she might even get him to put a ring on her.”
Hello, things you don’t say in front of a guy I’ve known for only slightly more than 24 hours! And I was worried about my parents being embarrassing!
“Ha! Bosses!” I cover, “they’re just like nagging mothers.” At which point, I make eye contact with my mother. Drats! I
t’s always something.
“I didn’t mean that you were naggy, Mom, I just meant the general ‘mother’, you know, the ones who do that. This is my mom,” I introduce John to her.
“Everybody nags sometimes,” my dad chimes in, not helpfully. Then to make sure John didn’t miss his point, he clarifies, “You’ll have to get used to that, too, if you spend enough time with our Sammy.”
“Thanks, Dad. And fyi, these sorts of comments are why you never get to meet anybody.” I’m starting to regret having brought him here. This is a room full of too many people who know too much about me that he may or may not understand. Note to self, this is why it’s better to wait for someone to get to know you before they meet your parents and everyone else you’ve ever known.
Thankfully, John is laughing at the whole thing, and seems to be taking it in stride. Still, I need to get him away from everyone, and fast!
“Ooh, I love this song! Let’s all dance!” I yank John onto the “dance floor,” as it came to be known at the end of the previous version of this party. I wrap my arms around him and sway until he feels obliged to dance. Nobody follows my lead.
I can tell John feels uncomfortable about the fact that I yanked him away from everyone and probably more so that we’re the only ones dancing.
“I’m sorry about this imposed first dance, but I just had to find a way to get you to stop meeting the people in my life.”
He laughs and relaxes into the dance, now that he understands my erratic behavior.
“I like meeting them,” he says, “you know, just in case they become the people in my life.” How does he do that? How does he always know what to say to make me trust him?
“Plus,” he adds playfully, “now we can talk shit about them on our next date!”
Even when he jokes about insulting my loved ones, he’s charming… But more importantly—he wants another date!
“So, when are you cooking me dinner?” John goes on. How did he not get scared when they all tried to shotgun marry us off within seconds of meeting him? Who cares! He’s a keeper. I am definitely not having sex with him now!
“How about Wednesday?” I suggest, giving myself time to practice cooking French food on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday.
How Long You Should Wait to Have Sex: a Novel Page 10
