Man of Her Dreams

by Tina Martin

  “Then I’ma tell you what you would tell me. Loosen up.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile. “Right. I would say that, wouldn’t I?”

  “Yep. Anyway, make yourself at home.”

  “Okay,” he said, and instead of getting comfortable on the sofa and watching the pre-game show, he joined her in the kitchen, nosying around. He lifted a sheet of aluminum foil to reveal a huge pan of cooked buffalo wings. “You must be inviting more people.”

  She giggled. “No. Just us.”

  “We’re going to eat all of these wings?”

  “Maybe not all of them but close to it. I’ve seen the way you eat. Your appetite is ferocious.”

  “Observant. That’s one of your strong qualities, Ms. Introvert.”

  “It is. Sometimes I think I’m too observant. Like, right now, I’m wondering why you keep staring at my hair.”

  Because I want to touch it, he thought then secured his hands inside of his pockets to resist the urge. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down.”

  “I know. I usually make no effort with my hair, but I decided to wash and crimple it, just because.”

  “It looks nice like that.”

  “Thank you. You look nice too in your relaxed clothes. And look at that—we have on matching Panther’s shirts.”

  “Gotta rep for the home team.”

  “No doubt.”

  Trevor gave her body a full sweep. In addition to a black Carolina Panther’s t-shirt, she had on a pair of gray sweatpants and no socks. He eyed up her toes. Her toenails were painted candy apple red and her feet looked soft and pretty. And she smelled good. The aroma of food in the kitchen wasn’t enough to hide the fresh fragrance coming from her. Whatever she was wearing, it smelled as beautiful as she looked.

  “Do you want a beer?” she asked when she felt his gaze on her. She was stirring queso dip in a small, stainless steel pot on the stove.

  “I’ll get it.” Trevor pulled the handle to the fridge, grabbed a beer and popped the cap. Then he left her to cooking while he walked toward the living room, looking at the pictures up on the wall, studying them like he was at an exhibit. “You look a lot like your mother.”

  “That’s what everybody says.”

  “You haven’t convinced your folks to move down south yet?”

  “No, and I’m not going to. I would go crazy with them being here. We don’t really see eye-to-eye.”

  “That’s too bad.” Trevor continued walking, admiring the wall art. Her place was small but simple with enough breathing room to be comfortable. During his studies, he learned that comfort and downtime were important to people who weren’t socially inclined. They thrived in their own space which is why he wanted to meet Elsie here instead of a bar. He wanted to see her relaxed and at ease. Judging by what he was witnessing so far, that’s exactly what she was. Relaxed.

  He took another swig of his beer while looking at her from the living room area. She was tasting the queso again, moaning at how good it was. When she caught his gaze, she smiled.

  “It’s delicious,” she told him.

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” he said walking toward the kitchen.

  “No, stay there and relax. I’ll make you a sample plate,” she said.

  He took a seat on the center of the sofa then leaned back. “Ahh…this is one comfortable couch you have here.”

  “It should be. I invested in a nice, plushy sofa since I knew beforehand it would serve as a bed most nights for me.”

  “You prefer the couch over your bed?”

  “I wouldn’t necessarily say prefer, but it is a nice alternative to the bed, especially when my neighbor’s boyfriend comes over. Her bedroom is right across from mine.”

  Trevor grinned. “Oh. Gotcha.”

  Elsie walked to the sofa and handed him a plate.

  “Thank you.”

  “Welcome. Let me know how it is.”

  Trevor took a tortilla chip and dipped it into the cheese. “Mmm…” he moaned as he chewed. “That’s a good dip.”

  “If you behave, I’ll give you more.”

  “Is that right?”

  Elsie giggled. “Yeah. That’s right.”

  “Ay, they’re about to kick off.”

  “Okay, I’ma bring the food over there in a minute. Can you do me a favor and clear the table, Trevor.”

  “Sure,” he said. He picked up a vase, a small candy bowl and a candle and placed them on the kitchen table. Then he watched Elsie bring the entire pan of wings to the living room.

  “Do you like ranch dressing with your wings?” she asked him.

  “Yes. Here, let me help you with that.”

  “I got it, Trevor. You’re my guest, remember?” she said, lowering the pan of wings to the table.

  “I can still help you,” he told her. “I’ll grab a few plates.”

  “You’re so hardheaded.”

  “Look at you getting to know me,” he quipped then winked at her.

  She finished bringing out the remaining food – the bowl of tortilla chips and dip, the honey-barbecue meatballs and the ranch dressing for the wings, then she sat on the sofa next to him. “Do you think the Panthers have a real shot at beating the Saints?” she asked.

  Trevor took a plate and added some wings to it. “They do, but if they win, it’ll be because the defense is playing so good right now.”

  “That’s the same thing Karsheeda said.”

  “Kar-who?”

  Elsie chuckled. “Karsheeda, my coworker. We share an office.”

  “Oh.” Trevor reached for the bottle of dressing. Elsie saw him reaching for it, so she picked it up and handed it to him.

  “Thanks,” he told her, taking the bottle. A slight graze from her hand touching his made him pause a moment and look at her up close. Her hair hanging loose made her eyes appear darker, and why hadn’t he noticed those exquisite cheekbones before?

  He blinked out of his trance, then squeezed a small dollop of ranch dressing on his plate.

  “Oh, I should warn you, Trevor,” Elsie said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I usually fall asleep in the most boring quarter of the game.”

  Grinning, he asked, “Which quarter might that be?”

  “Third. I don’t know why, but I’m always snoozin’ come third quarter. But I’ll try to stay awake for your sake.”

  Trevor shook his head. “Women and football,” he said.

  “I know,” she giggled. “I’m probably not as into it as you are. I don’t know all the rules and stuff.”

  “That’s okay. I’m impressed that you like to watch it.” Trevor dipped a wing into the ranch dressing before taking a bite. By his moans, Elsie knew he was enjoying the food so far.

  “You made these wings?” he asked.

  “Yes. I can cook. I just don’t want to cook most days.”

  Trevor tried one of the meatballs and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. “Delicious,” he mumbled. “I’m gon’ eat all this.”

  She laughed at him. Her eyes remained locked on the TV, though, when she watched Cam Newton launch a pass to the end zone. “Touchdown!” she yelled, then high-fived Trevor. She took another wing then looked at Trevor, surprised that his gaze was already fixed on her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Okay, I have to ask—who are you and what have you done with Elsie—the shy, quiet Elsie who couldn’t make eye contact with me.”

  Elsie laughed. “I still can’t hardly make eye contact with you. Your eyes are so magnificent.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. They’re enchanting. They put women under spells, especially me. I know I’m not the first woman to tell you this.”

  “I—you—” Trevor found himself at a loss for words. “I’m trippin’. I can’t believe you just said that to me.”

  “What? It’s true.”

  “Women usually think it but they don’t come out and say it.”
<
br />   “Well, since we’re friends, I can say whatever I want,” she said, then tossed a meatball into her mouth.

  He smirked and looked back at the TV. “False start,” he called out.

  “Yeah, I saw that,” Elsie said. “Automatic first down, baby!”

  Trevor smiled, took a sip of beer, then helped himself to some chips and queso. “Ah, man. This is really nice. I’m really enjoying myself.”

  “I am, too.”

  When a commercial came on, he said, “I’ll use this opportunity to stretch.” He stood up, his six-feet-four frame extending, popping and waking up. “Where’s your bathroom?”

  “Down the hallway, first door on the left.”

  “Thanks.” Trevor stretched again. He moseyed on down the hallway, found the bathroom and when he was done, he looked around, checking it out. She had it decorated nicely he thought with peach-colored curtains that matched the plush bath rug. His guest bathroom at the new place was already painted pastel blue and so his plan was to go with that color scheme. In fact, he’d planned on keeping the décor as simple as possible.

  After washing his hands, he returned to the living room to find Elsie sitting on the couch with her legs folded underneath herself. Her eyes were glued to the TV as Cam Newton threw a Hail Mary right before halftime.

  “Get it, get it, get it!” she screeched.

  Trevor smiled. It was more fun paying attention to her than the game.

  “Man! He should’ve caught that ball. Look at Cam. He can’t believe it.”

  “What happened?” Trevor asked as if he hadn’t been standing there all along. He just wanted the satisfaction of hearing her explain it, and while she did, he studied the happiness in her features and those full lips that he imagined would taste like buffalo wing sauce right about now.

  “Well, they’re up by two touchdowns so I wouldn’t be too worried.”

  “I know. It would’ve been nice if the guy caught the ball, though.”

  “Yep.”

  “So, what do we do at halftime?” he asked her. “Oh and please excuse me. I forgot to ask if I should take my shoes off.”

  “No, you’re good.”

  “Okay…just wanted to be sure.”

  “You’re fine. It’s no problem, and I don’t know what to do for halftime. We could just talk I suppose.”

  “Look at you trying to be sociable.”

  “I know. Odd, right?”

  He angled his body towards her and said, “So, tell me—how does a woman like yourself stay single for so long ?”

  “That’s simple. Because I look like a dork and you already know about the introvert thing.”

  “Yes, but today, you’re a different woman, and you don’t look like a dork. Stop being so hard on yourself.”

  She shied away from his comments. “I’m not different. Trust me—this is still a stretch for me. I’ve never had a man inside of my apartment before. No, wait—yes I have. Management sent some bummy-looking guy up here to fix my toilet handle, and he dropped cigarette ashes all down the hallway.”

  Trevor chuckled. “But you’ve never entertained a guy you were interested in?”

  I have now… “Um, no.”

  “I know what your problem is, Ellie. You hide yourself. You don’t let men see you.”

  “It’s not intentional,” she told him. “It’s just the way I am.”

  “Then you have to change that mindset.”

  “I know, but I can’t just wake up one morning and instantly I’m this socialite sensation.”

  “It’s not only about your comfortability with conversing with people. It’s the way you dress, too, Ellie.”

  Elsie’s mouth fell open in disbelief as she looked down at her outfit. “What’s wrong with the way I dress?”

  “You cover up everything. Men like to see a woman’s curves.”

  “But I don’t want a man to only want me for my body.”

  “Then why do you want a man to want you?” he asked, strictly for his own benefit but she seemed oblivious to that.

  She chewed on her lip, musing it over, then responded, “I want a man to want me because he finds me interesting—a man who can connect with me mentally.”

  “Because you crave mental stimulation and close intimacy, as most people do, but especially people like you. That’s why you don’t have many friends. You like to nurture and cultivate the few friendships you have, even if you feel the person or people are not actually good for you. In your eyes, tolerating people is better than stepping outside of your box and creating new relationships. And you need those relationships to help facilitate your desire for meaningful conversations but only with people who understand what this life is like for you—a kindred spirit who gets it.”

  “Wow.”

  “I didn’t say all of that to impress you. I said it so you know I understand. Now, with that being the case, you can still be who you are and present your best self to the world.”

  “I know, but I’m still a nervous wreck. I don’t do small talk very well. If someone says something to me and I look at them all weird because I don’t know how to respond, that won’t look too good. Like, remember when you first said something to me at Baconville? I know you thought I was crazy when I walked away from you.”

  “Again, don’t be too hard on yourself. This is not something you’ll learn overnight, Ellie, but it is worth exploring. Oh, and by the way, it’s not abnormal for men to connect with a woman’s features before deciding if he wants to get to know her. And you have all the right features.”

  Just not enough to attract you... “If you say so,” she said, then yawned.

  * * *

  Trevor took another beer from the refrigerator. He answered a call from Reid briefly and by the time he walked back over to the sofa, Elsie was stretched out, her eyes closed and it was three minutes into the third quarter.

  “Can’t say you didn’t warn me,” he whispered. He stood there for a moment lowering himself to his knees to get a closer look at her as she slept soundly. With the slightest of touches, he raked her hair away from her face while his eyes absorbed her beautiful features. Her skin looked soft beneath the dimly lit living room lights and running his fingers along her delicate cheek, he found out that it was. His fingers ached to continue their exploration of her, but he kept his hands in check. He sat on the floor and took the remote from the table to lower the volume to a setting that wouldn’t disturb her. Then he indulged in more wings while watching the remainder of quarter three alone.

  Halfway through the fourth, Elsie woke up, her vision crashing with his right away. She disconnected their gazes as quickly as one would turn away from direct contact with the sun.

  “You’re back,” he teased.

  Elsie stretched. “Yes, like I never left.” She yawned. “Who’s winning?”

  “The Saints, by a touchdown.”

  Elsie sat up on the couch and rubbed her eyes.

  “Do you need some water or something?” he asked.

  “I’ll get it,” she told him.

  “No,” Trevor said standing. “Let me.” In the kitchen, he took a red Solo cup from the counter filled it with ice and water, then walked it back over to her.

  “Thanks, Trevor,” she said, taking the cup.

  “You’re welcome.” He sat on the sofa next to her. “Hey, looks like the Panthers are about to score again.”

  “Yep.” Elsie sipped water, watching the TV when Cam ran the ball into the end zone doing his typical superman celebration afterward.

  “It’s looking good for the Panthers,” he said.

  “Yeah. I think they got this one in the bag.” Elsie placed her cup on the table. “I see you’ve been tearing up those wings while I was sleep.”

  He smiled. It was either the wings or your lips. He’d determined something about Elsie after their conversation before halftime. One, Elsie, as a person had so much to offer a man. Two, she had no clue how sexy she was, like it had been programmed in her mind (
probably by her so-called friend Priscilla) that she was just ordinary, when she was beautiful and smart – a little shy, but it was bearable now that he knew and understood her.

  “Elsie, are you working tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “When does your workday begin?”

  “I have to be there by eight.”

  “So, I take it you won’t be watching any more football after this game.”

  “Nah. I’ll use the rest of the time to unwind, maybe take a bubble bath or something.”

  The vision of her petite, shapely body soaking in bubbles and warm water wasn’t a vision he needed to have. He offered her friendship, so he didn’t need those kinds of thoughts in his head. Plus, he couldn’t offer her what he didn’t want. After Rachel, relationships had been off the table and that’s where he expected them to stay. So, why was he so eager to spend time with Elsie? Why, whenever they were together, he got the urge to touch her? And why couldn’t he keep his eyes off of her lips?

  “I think I better leave,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “I just need to—have to figure out where I’m sleeping tonight. The house or the apartment.”

  “Where’s your bed?”

  “It’s still at the apartment.”

  “Then trust me—that’s where you should sleep. You need to be well-rested to move boxes and whatnot.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  “Hey, can I make you a plate to take home?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll take a plate to-go.”

  Elsie immediately went to work, putting chicken wings and meatballs on a plate, then wrapping it with aluminum foil. Handing it to him, she said, “Here you go, Sir.”

  “Thank you. I had a lot of fun this afternoon.”

  “Me too.”

  “Maybe we can do this again, soon.”

  “Yeah. Maybe,” she said, already feeling tense as they walked toward the door. Was she supposed to kiss him? Hug him? Shake his hand? She didn’t know what to do.

  “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Elsie,” Trevor said.

  “You as well, Trevor,” she said and didn’t bother looking at him when she said it.

  “Ahem,” he said, clearing his throat for the purpose of giving her a hint to make eye contact.