Me: blasphemy!
Juliette: So you pray every Sunday to the Buffalo team?
Me: I pray every Sunday FOR the Buffalo team.
By now I’m at the ER. My attending gives me a strange look, “You sure are in a good mood.” Shaking my head and unable to contain my silly smile, I turn off my phone, put it in my pocket, and scrub in.
The next morning when I text Juliette, I see she’s responded to my last text.
Juliette: That was my first NFL game – lots of fun – need to do it again.
If I get this job I just might be taking you.
Me: My buddies didn’t believe me when I said you were the woman in California I’ve been texting.
Juliette: I had no idea Cassie and I were on national TV. I couldn’t understand how everyone knew I went to the game.
Texting with Mariana was easy—shit like, “have a good day,” or “Charm crazy patient,” or “I’ll be in OR 5 until 3.” Reading over our texts I see they’re rather lame, I’m not even sure what to write; though this girl is hot and I’m assuming single. If I don’t work on keeping something going, someone else is going steal my game.
I’m about to send her my good morning message when I realize that last night she sent me a picture of her ass. It’s not a selfie, but it is a great ass shot. Did one of her friends do this as a prank? Whatever, this gives me an idea. Yeah, I’m not about to send a dick shot, I still don’t get what’s with that. Instead, I stand in front of the mirror and take a selfie of my tattoo. After cropping it, I think, this is fun, a lot better than trying to think of what next to say. Our texts continue on, with interesting G-rated selfies. She sends me a picture of her lips puckered up for a kiss, so I send her a picture of my back flexed. Finally, I get a call back from the practice in Palo Alto.
As soon as I have a plane reservation, I set up a date with Juliette.
Chapter 15 – Wine Tasting
Driving out of SFO, I use my phone app to navigate over to Juliette’s place. I’m excited to see her. That low cut red shirt with her boobs in full display is seared in my mind. Is her skin as luminescent as I remember; is she as spunky? I know she’s hot. Finally, I arrive at a tree lined residential street. With a deep breath to manage my energy, I ring the doorbell.
She opens the door and with a sweet friendly smile says, “Hey.”
She’s prettier than I remember, wearing running pants and a matching top. I think Lycra is my favorite material as I coolly reply, “Hey.”
She invites me in.
As she grabs her phone and purse she asks, “Do you want to drive or do you want me to drive?”
Years of living with Mariana compels me to skeptically ask, “Do you know where we’re going?”
She looks taken aback as she answers, “Yes, I hope so. It’s not too far from here.”
Shit, I didn’t mean to offend her, though explaining myself would be worse than just letting my comment ride.
Pointing through the open door towards the hills she continues, “It’s just at the top of the mountain.”
Reaching over, I pick up the bag of food she’s prepared. “I’ll drive,” I tell her. Our conversation is stilted, I was hoping with the texting our first date would be easier. Searching for something to say I ask, “Do you do this often?” This sounds weird, as I clarify, “hike and wine taste that is.”
She pauses before answering, “Surprisingly, not that often.” Then she pauses again as she wistfully continues, “It’s a great way to spend the day, but I guess living here I get busy with life.”
We talk about school and why I’m in town as we drive down the road.
Juliette abruptly changes the direction of our conversation. “We’re getting close to the street we want to take. It’s up there on the right. I should warn you, it’s all up hill with hairpin turns, the road is narrow, and there’re a lot of cyclists.”
I flash her a quick look before saying, “Wait, you’re taking me on a steep, narrow, twisting road with cyclists, to go wine tasting?”
She chuckles, then says, “Yeah, kind of an oxymoron.”
Oxymoron? Cyclists and wine tasting are not really compatible activities, I think, and then catch myself saying out loud, “I don’t think that’s the correct word.”
“What would you call it?” she questions.
The only word that comes to my mind is, “Ironic…?”
“Ironic? Yeah, I guess that would work, or maybe juxtaposed,” she responds.
As we drive up the hill Juliette gets quiet. I’m glad she’s not one of those women that fills every second with conversation. I need downtime to reflect.
After parking, Juliette tells me, “It’s only a mile or two walk to the view.”
The blue sky and warm temperature feels nice as I shed my fleece and grab the water bottle I took on the plane.
We walk down a wide dirt path in what looks like a high meadow. The path takes us through a small grove of trees. As we enter a clearing, she walks me to a lookout.
“How familiar are you with the bay area?” she asks.
“I’ve been here a few times—to San Francisco, Napa, and Monterey,” I explain.
She starts pointing out landmarks, but all I’m really interested in is her. She’s pretty, but in a way that women who don’t care about being pretty are. Some good looking female doctors I know are that way; they’re women that don’t derive their ego from their looks. She has an unencumbered attitude. She was ready when I came to the door, no games. She probably doesn’t change her outfit three times before she goes out either. Juliette’s definitely different than Mariana, which is good.
“What?” she says with a questioning smile once she realizes I’m looking at her, not the view.
I just shake my head. A pretty girl like her should be used to guys looking at her, which is curious. She changes the subject, “Drink up; you don’t sweat that much here because it’s so dry. People from back east never realize how dehydrated they’re getting.”
Drinking up, I can’t seem to keep my eyes off her as she points while saying, “There’s a spigot with potable water. Let’s fill up before we head back to go wine tasting.”
The conversation becomes easy, and fun as we head back to the car on the same path we just took. She then guides me down the hill to the winery where we park.
“I recommend we put something in our stomachs before wine tasting,” she says.
Grabbing the bag with food out of the back, I say, “You lead the way.”
There’s a picnic area near the tasting room. She’s chosen some nice cheeses, fresh bread, and fruit. The weather feels like September, the air is warm with just a hint of a cool breeze, the sun feels good. At home, the leaves are off the trees and we’ve already had snow flurries. When we’re done eating, I gather up what’s left and put the bag back in the car. We meet back up; my hands just itch to touch her. With my hand on her back, I walk with her through the door and into the tasting room. My hand up to my elbow tingles from contact.
We each choose a wine series to taste and stand shoulder to shoulder. We’re so close I can’t help but look at her soft pink lips and wonder what they feel like, what sounds she’ll make when she comes. Pulling myself back, I tell myself, this isn’t a hookup, I need to slow myself down. Juliette’s a nice girl, the type I’ve spent most of my life avoiding. I can tell by her body language that if I push her too fast she’ll run. Then again, catching her might actually be fun.
We share our wines, every time we touch my skin sparks, I can tell I’m having the same effect on her, since her eyes get wide and her pupils dilate. As we continue to taste wine, she starts loosening up. She even starts getting a little flirtier. I find myself captivated with her shy, flirty side. Every moment I’m with this woman, I want to be with her more. I can feel her sucking me in, after this last year it feels exceptionally good.
Buying a couple bottles of the wine we both liked best, I figure I can bring one tonight to the partner dinner and leave on
e with Juliette. It will be a thank you for the nice day and an excuse to have dinner with her in the future.
Driving her back to her apartment, she starts exiting the car without her purse. Living with Mariana, who was constantly loosing things, has made me hyper aware as I remind Juliette, “Don’t forget your purse.”
She gives me a nice smile and a small shrug before exclaiming, “Oh, thanks,” then she chuckles. “But I wouldn’t have gotten too far without my keys.”
Walking her to her door, I can feel that she wouldn’t be receptive to a kiss. Which makes me wonder what’s going on, I know she was getting turned on while we were wine tasting. She must not be up for a hookup, which is cool. Not wanting to spook her, I hand her the bottle of wine saying, “I really enjoyed our day. Can I give you this bottle with the hope we can share it in the near future?”
Getting another one of her sweet, shy, flirty smiles she answers, “Sure, today was…nice.”
I stand on her stoop watching as she closes the door. Juliette Cole, now this is worth pursuing.
At my hotel room after cleaning up for dinner, I shoot Juliette an e-mail.
Me: Great day, thanks for being my guide.
Chapter 16 – Moving
Back in Rochester the job offer comes in. My boss at Mayo knows I was planning on moving, and he’s been supportive. Now, after five years, I need to pack up, say goodbye, and leave. On the Internet, I find a one-bedroom apartment with a designated parking space, walking distance from downtown Palo Alto, near the practice’s offices, and Leland Hospital—where my group works.
Arriving home, I continue with my morning texts to Juliette: Gave my two week notice, not a surprise since my boss knew I was waiting on an offer. Now the hard part, packing up and moving.
Juliette: Oops sorry, I can’t help you with logistics since I just dropped my phone in my bubble bath. Looks like you shouldn’t get a phone wet….
This text just makes me laugh. It’s so Juliette. Not overtly sexy, but definitely fun and flirty, giving me a hint of what to expect. I hadn’t realized how much I enjoyed texting in the morning. It also makes me feel connected to her. She’s a pretty woman. Other guys must have seen her at that football game. I don’t want to lose my chance with her so I’m going to be attentive. Friends invite me to their place for Thanksgiving. An early season storm looks like it’s going to slam into the Midwest on Thanksgiving Day. Making a quick decision, I cancel with my friends, find a first year resident from Salt Lake City, and take off on Wednesday night. Taking turns driving, we make it to his parents for Thanksgiving. On Friday, I drive by myself to my sister’s.
When I was in town two weeks ago, I didn’t contact my sister since I didn’t need a place to stay and had no interest in explaining my date with Juliette. Knocking on Jamie’s small, one-bedroom apartment door, I’m surprised when I’m greeted by some unshaven, tatted up, pierced thug wearing a heavy metal T-shirt, shorts and flip flops --in December, and reeking of weed.
He looks me up and down and says, “Dude, you must be Jamie’s big bro.”
Is he fucking kidding me? Who is this guy? Trying to act cool I ask, “Who are you and where is Jamie?”
“Jamie should be back soon; I’m the boyfriend, Tyler, though my friends call me Ty.”
Jamie is dating this guy? What the fuck. When I stayed here last month he wasn’t around. Jamie pays extra for a garage. I look at surfer boy and ask, “All my stuff’s on top of—and in-my car. Do you have the opener for her garage?”
“Dude, take it easy. Let’s have a beer. Jamie can open it for you when she gets back.”
He’s going to have Jamie help me? What, he doesn’t plan on helping out, I think as I enter the apartment. ESPN is on; there are a couple dead joints in the coffee table ash tray. Tyler hands me a beer as I look him in the eyes. “Tyler, so what do you do for a living?”
Rubbing his hands over his soon to be beer belly, “Workman’s comp man, you know, injury.”
I spend my day looking at injured people. I’m trying to see what’s injured about this guy as I ask, “Tyler, you look good, what kind of injury do you have?”
“Dude, my back. Man, I fell off a ladder. Messed myself up good.”
“So, the pot’s to help your back?” I say sarcastically.
“Yeah, dude, you know medicinal marijuana’s legal in California.”
Where the hell did Jamie find him? At about this time Jamie comes home. She’s carrying a couple of Trader Joe’s bags filled with groceries.
As our eyes lock, she gives me an uncomfortable smile. “Nate, you got here earlier than I thought. I see you’ve met Ty.”
Tyler walks over to Jamie, does not take the groceries out of her hand, but puts his arm around her and sticks his tongue in her mouth. Right in front of me. I’m about ready to puke, or put my fist through his idiot face. Jamie is smart, athletic, and fun to be around; she’s got a great job. What the hell is she thinking? It’s a good thing I moved out here. I’ll need to rectify this situation.
I’m not stupid enough to start anything now. Grabbing the grocery bags from Jamie I place them on the kitchen counter. Getting her keys, I head out so I can off load my stuff into her garage. When I get back Tyler is on the couch watching ESPN as Jamie makes dinner. Dinner is tense. Jamie gives me the harry eyeball every time I ask Tyler a question.
After driving for ten hours today I’m exhausted, though I find it hard to fall asleep. Sleeping on an air mattress in her living room isn’t my problem; it’s having to listen to Tyler screw my sister in the next room. I’m using all my will power not to go in their room and kill him.
Lucky for him he’s not around when I get up. When I finally get showered and get some coffee in me, I text Juliette.
Me: Can I pick you up at noon?
Juliette: yes
After checking my car’s oil, I head over to the car wash. The blue paint looks brown from all the dirt, and you can barely see out the window. It’s the first time I’ve cleaned my car since this summer. Just thinking about Juliette gets Tyler and my sister out of my mind, putting me in a better mood.
Chapter 17 – San Francisco
With a deep calming breath I ring Juliette’s doorbell. I’m surprised that she’s ready. She sure looks good dressed casually in jeans and a long sleeve shirt, which unfortunately hides her great rack. My fingers just itch to touch her. Her hair is long and shiny with these big soft curls. Placing my hands in my pocket, I control myself from pulling on a coil of hair, or touching that skin.
In a friendly tone she asks, “Can you give me an idea of where we’re going? I’m not sure what shoes or jacket to bring?”
Shit, I’ve been so preoccupied with getting here I never thought about what we’re going to do. In a last minute ditch to save my ass I say, “I haven’t been to San Francisco in ages. It might be fun to go up there and be tourists. Do you have to be home at any time?”
She shrugs, and in a friendly way tells me, “My sister’s in town, I spent Thursday and Friday with her and my parents. I think it’s cool if I take off for the day, so no plans.”
Good, exactly what I was looking forward to, a day with Juliette. Wanting to get going I ask, “What do you need to do to get ready?”
She gives me one of her bright cheery smiles then raises her index finger. “Give me a minute or two.” Familiar with that line I get ready for the long haul of waiting. Looking around the room I’m totally flabbergasted. Her roommate, the hot blond, has a larger than life-sized painting of herself hanging up in their dining room. This picture takes up the entire wall.
Hearing Juliette’s, “Hey,” from behind me, I’m surprised. Is she ready? How can that be? She was gone for only a few minutes.
Pointing at Cassie’s mural, I ask, “Don’t you think it’s weird that she has such a big picture of herself hanging in the dining room?”
She gets a crazy big smile on her face, and in an innocent voice, “Not at all. There’s one of me in the kitchen. We had the
m done at the mall on two-for-one Tuesday.”
I belt out a belly laugh. Yes, she actually has a sense of humor. I can’t help but say, “That has got high maintenance written all over it.”
Juliette just shrugs as she flippantly tells me, “Yes that would be an accurate assumption. But, no one goes out with Cassie looking for low maintenance.”
“You ready?” I question.
She gets and insecure look on her face, “Do I not look ready?”
This woman will take some getting used to. I thought all women took forever to get ready. I have a feeling her roommate is never ready on time.
Answering Juliette I tell her the truth, “You look great; it’s just that it took you about two minutes to get ready. I only thought guys got ready that fast.”
She tips her head and looks puzzled, then she gives a small smile saying, “Let’s leave.”
When we get near San Francisco she asks, “What do you want to do in San Francisco?”
Shit, my head’s not in the game, I’ve not planned this out. Mariana would have my balls for this. Casually, I punt, “I’m not quite sure. After sitting in my car for the last two days, I’d like to park and walk around. I thought we could head down to the water.”
She repeats, “Water? Then contemplates for a couple of seconds before continuing with, “That narrows it down. We can park in the Presidio and walk across the Golden Gate Bridge. There’s a fancy hotel on the other side in Fort Baker, or we could park at Union Square and walk to Coit Tower, then walk down to the Embarcadero. One direction takes us to Pier 39—you know where all the tourist shops are or we can go in the other direction towards AT&T Park.”
I think about our choices, and finally tell her, “Last time I was in San Francisco I walked across the Golden Gate Bridge. Let’s park near Union Square and then start walking. You’re cool with walking, right?”
With a bright smile she lifts up her feet, “I wore my favorite boots for walking.”
Nate (The Princesses of Silicon Valley - Book 4) Page 5
