Sweatpants Season

by Danielle Allen

  He chuckled, sitting on the bar stool next to me. “Speaking of which… what made you decide to take me up on my offer? I believe I asked you in April if you wanted to get a drink…”

  I cocked my head to the side. “You know…” I took a long sip of my drink. “You questioning my being here makes me question my being here.”

  Holding his hands up in surrender, he grinned. “Akila Bishara, you are something else.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?” the bartender asked as she handed a drink to a woman on the other side of Niles.

  “Whiskey, neat, please,” he answered immediately. “And a refill for the lady.”

  I stared at his profile and smiled.

  Niles was handsome, funny, and a talented writer. We got along well and when he first asked me out, I considered it. But as much as I wanted to feel something with Niles, I just didn’t. He was a good guy. We exchanged emails regularly and proofread each other’s work. I’d hoped not seeing him for a few months would make the heart grow fonder, so I sent him a response to his unanswered question out of the blue. He quickly jumped on the opportunity, and I found myself looking forward to the night. But as I sat beside the handsome, intelligent man who made me laugh, I didn’t feel anything.

  We talked nonstop for an hour and a half about the most random topics. I laughed hard and often. He was so funny. Wiping the tear that had welled in the corner of my eye, I sighed with contented amusement. I wanted to feel something other than friendship for him. On paper, we worked. We had a ton in common and we were a lot alike.

  “Now, be honest… career wise, what are you scared of?” Niles asked, wiping his mouth. “Your website should’ve been up and running by now.”

  I whistled, finishing with a good-natured smile. “You’re asking the heavy hitting questions, aren’t you?” I took a swig of my drink and then sighed. “Honestly, I’m scared of failure. You know how it is… freelancing can be hit or miss. I’m trying to upgrade my photography skills so I can make my website standout, and maybe that’ll also make my writing standout.”

  He nodded. “I understand.”

  I gave him the short version, but it was more than that. I wasn’t just scared of failure. I was scared of failing the thing I wanted most. The Re-Mix opportunity was a much bigger deal than I let on. It wasn’t just a good career move, it was the career move. The series writer position was more than just a job for me. Working for Luna Daniels would be a dream come true. I knew my loved ones were aware that I wanted the job. But I didn’t want to tell my parents or Alex or even Meghan that I was scared I wasn’t going to get it. I didn’t want to speak that into existence, but I’d subconsciously pinned my hopes and dreams on the Re-Mix opportunity.

  “Freelancing isn’t easy. Not many people get that.” He paused. “Not many people get the newspaper either so…” He made a face, cracking me up.

  “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time,” I acknowledged, sipping my water.

  “Well, now that I’m going to be around here more often, maybe we should make this a regular thing…?”

  “Oh, so you were holding out on the real news, I see! If you’re going to be here more often, I take it that your editor liked your opinion piece on the football scandal?” I asked, changing the subject.

  His eyes lit up. “He loved it! I was offered the permanent position.”

  Squealing, I clapped excitedly. “I’m so happy for you. You’re a damn good writer, and you absolutely deserve this! That’s awesome!”

  He took a swig of his brown liquor. “You’re just saying that because you like me.”

  “I’m saying it because it’s true. And because you’re my friend.”

  Shaking his head, he chuckled to himself. “Friend, huh?”

  I gave him a tight smile as I nodded. “Yeah.”

  He dropped his head for a second before giving me a boyish grin. “You realize I asked you on a date tonight, right?”

  Cringing on the inside, I took a sip of water and braced myself. “Let me pay.”

  His smile dimmed. “I can pay for our meal, Akila.”

  “I wasn’t implying that you couldn’t. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to since—”

  “Since it wasn’t a real date?” Annoyance dripped from his words and turned down his lips.

  Not shying away from his eye contact, I wanted to be clear, firm, and kind. “Like I said, I’ll pay. I have no problem paying.”

  “I asked you on the date, so I’ll pay for it. I’m just wondering why you accepted knowing I was asking you on a date.”

  “I said yes to drinks and dinner because I knew we would have a nice time,” I answered honestly.

  “We could’ve just hung out as friends and had a nice time.” He poured the rest of the contents of his glass into his mouth and then sat back, eyeing me. “Why did you wear that and agree to go on this date?”

  I sighed. “Niles…”

  “No, I want to know. I’m curious.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Honestly.”

  I sat back in my chair and looked at him. “I’ve always thought you were attractive. And on paper, you and I make sense.”

  He smiled but said nothing.

  I cleared my throat. “After a dateless summer, I thought maybe I wasn’t feeling that vibe with anyone because I wasn’t making good dating decisions. So, I thought about what I wanted in a man, and I thought about the conversation we’d had about your article…which made me think about the fact that you asked me out.” I shrugged. “So… I accepted.”

  He squinted his eyes as though he was trying to make sense of what I was saying. “So, I’m what you’re looking for in a man, but…”

  Tilting my head to the side, I gave him a look. “I don’t feel it.”

  “What’s it?”

  I paused for a second, trying to put it into words. “Magic. Chemistry.” I lifted my shoulders innocently. “Anything.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Well, damn.”

  “I know.”

  Shaking his head with a smile, he flagged down the bartender. “You are cold-blooded.”

  “I know.”

  Before the bartender reached us, Niles had already started speaking. “I just got friend zoned, so that’ll be two checks please.”

  My jaw dropped as a shocked laugh fell from my lips.

  The bartender looked back and forth at us in shock. “Oh, okay, okay…?” She looked at me as if she were waiting for permission to bring two checks.

  I was at a loss for words, but I was also deeply amused. Holding in my laughter, I nodded my approval.

  “I’m kidding,” he assured us as he started to chuckle. “But the next round of drinks is on her because she really did friend zone me.”

  The bartender laughed uncertainly, but she printed only one check and handed it to Niles tentatively.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, slowly reaching for the check.

  Slapping my hand away lightly, he pointed at me. “Stop!”

  After Niles paid, he turned to look at me. “Do you want to know what I think?”

  “What’s that?”

  He chuckled to himself. “I think that you are holding out for something that doesn’t exist.”

  I groaned and playfully rolled my eyes. “Here we go.”

  “Now hear me out…”

  Smiling, I rolled my eyes. “Mm hmm.”

  “You said it yourself, we work on paper.”

  I nodded.

  “But somehow you don’t feel any chemistry between us.”

  “Correct,” I murmured, unsure of his point.

  “You know most marriages fail, right? Lasting relationships are built on compatibility.” He leaned closer to me, searching my eyes. “Compatibility. Not chemistry.”

  “I agree. But mutual chemistry and interest are necessary.” I paused, cocking my head to the side. “You’ve been thinking about marrying me, huh?”

  Running his hand down his face, he tri
ed to cover his amusement. “You wish.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. A smirk graced his handsome face. “I just wanted to ask your overdramatic ass on a date and of course, you blow it out of proportion.”

  “Blow it out of proportion?” I giggled. “You went from compatibility to marriage real quick!”

  With a laugh, he countered, “I brought up marriage as a standard and comparison, not as a proposition and an offer!”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I teased, bumping my knee against his as I turned in my chair. “Man, Niles… I forgot how hard you can make me laugh.”

  The genuine smile on his face spoke volumes. “And I forgot how easy it is to be around you.”

  “If only we had that spark, that chemistry, that pull…”

  He rose from the barstool. “I never pegged you for the romantic type. Usually you’re a little cynical—”

  “Hey!” I interjected, glaring at him. “I’m not cynical!”

  “The last couple of articles you sent me weren’t at all…romantic.”

  “They weren’t supposed to be!”

  Niles took my hand and helped me off my barstool. “Uh… they were about dating.” He made a face. “You didn’t even try to be optimistic.”

  “They were about the culture of dating!”

  His eyes widened comically. “Yeah, okay.”

  “And it’s journalism, not my diary,” I argued. “If a man wrote those same articles, you wouldn’t have thought anything of it. I can’t believe you of all people would—”

  He put his hands on my shoulders and forced his face close to mine. “You are a fantastic writer. Look at me! You are an excellent journalist.”

  I tried to turn my head, but his whiskey-soaked breath and pleading eyes held my attention. Rolling my eyes, I relented and looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

  “You know me, and you know I’m not saying, ‘because you’re a woman, your article should’ve been frilly and romanticized’ or any sexist shit like that.” He seemed to realize that I wasn’t going to turn away from him anymore, so he dropped his hands from my shoulders. “All I’m saying is that your work, even in its early drafts, never really gave me the impression that you were the type to value feelings over facts. I’ve never known you to value emotions over practical considerations.”

  I was quiet for a second. “Isn’t that the markings of a great journalist?”

  He smirked. “Yes. But you told me your goal is to do more opinion pieces on the dynamics between men and women and how it plays in heterosexual relationships and dating culture. Earlier tonight you said you wanted to create your own brand with your blog. With your blog you have to bring a little more of who you really are into it.”

  I nodded. “I want my website to have links to articles that I enjoy as well as my original content and think pieces. I want to create a dialogue,” I affirmed passionately.

  “I know. And I know you’re going to do excellent work. All I was saying is that with your writing and your attitude about dating, I would’ve never guessed you were a romantic.”

  I shrugged. “I just don’t wear my heart on my sleeve.”

  “And you don’t have to. But you have a voice, and on your platform, you are free to use it. Never forget that.”

  “You’re great, you know that?” I gazed up at Niles. His earnest eyes and encouraging tone filled me with appreciation. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being my friend.”

  Niles looked around, cupping his ear. “Did you hear that?”

  I shook my head. “Hear what?”

  “That was you locking the friendzone door with a damn deadbolt.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I mean damn, I get it. We’re friends. Just friends. Nothing more.”

  I tossed my head back and laughed.

  Chapter Two

  “Aww, Akila, it sounds like you have a crush,” Jennifer teased, cooing in what seemed to be a mix of baby-talk and the staccato tone of her speaking voice. “Sounds like you liiiiike him.”

  I was irritated for three reasons. One, Jennifer and I did not know each other like that. Two, she was loud as hell. Three, I did find him attractive.

  “No…” I kept my voice leveled and low. “All I’m saying is that from his work to his interviews, Luca Romano is a legend. From what I can tell, he’s a lot like his work. He’s talented, introspective, forward-thinking… His eye and perspective are one of a kind,” I gushed about our photography instructor as his assistant handed out the assignment. “I don’t know him to like him. I just… I’m excited to learn from him. I’m excited to study under him. Getting into this workshop was…” I shook my head as my voice trailed off.

  Getting into that workshop was a true blessing.

  “And he’s so hot!” Jennifer squealed. “I can’t wait to study under him—and not the way you meant it.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I’m glad you don’t have a crush on him because I’d hate to hurt your feelings when I get my hooks in him. He’s about to be taken.”

  I felt my face twist in confusion at the woman that I’d just met fifteen minutes prior. “What?”

  “I don’t know his work, but I know he’s hot. And not just regular hot. He is lick-him-from-head-to-toe hot. He just oozes sex, and his ass is perfect. So, I call dibs. And I will get him. His ex-girlfriend was a celebrity trainer and yoga instructor, so…” She unzipped her jacket, gesturing to the tight, black yoga pants and sports bra she was wearing. “Here I am.”

  “I’m confused.”

  She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. “He’s a catch. He’s the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He travels the world. He speaks another language. He’s well connected. And he’s hot. Someone like that needs something pretty on his arm.” She winked. “And I plan to be that something pretty.”

  Stunned silent, I just blinked.

  “I mean, fuck photography—I’m trying to fuck him! Right?” She tossed her head back and laughed.

  I stared at her blankly.

  I immediately thought about how many people—people, including my sister—didn’t get the opportunity to get into the workshop because someone like Jennifer wanted to use the career defining opportunity as a dating opportunity.

  “What?” she snapped, her voice indignant as she zipped up her jacket. “Don’t judge me!”

  I lifted my hands. “I’m not judging you. I’m just shocked that you spent a thousand dollars for an exclusive photography workshop taught by a legend because you are hoping he wants to date you. You don’t really know the man or his work, and people like my sister were so disappointed to not get into this class.”

  “Whatever! I do know his work,” she argued.

  You literally just said you didn’t know his work two minutes ago.

  I sighed, feeling the energy drain from me. Between the conversation and the thought of being partnered with her for the entire class, I considered switching seats. Sliding the assignment closer to me, I skimmed the instructions. “Okay. Let’s just do this.”

  As I was writing, she decided to continue her argument. “I do know him and his work. He’s talented. I looked his work up online once I got confirmation that I’d gotten in the workshop. And yeah, he takes great pictures. But I’m looking for a great man. And since he’s single, I think I should be his muse. There’s nothing wrong with that, and I’m not going to let you make me feel bad about it.”

  I shrugged. “I never said you should feel bad. You should feel however you want to feel about it. You asked me a question, and I was just saying that I was shocked your only reason for wanting to be here was for a hookup. You could’ve just waited for class to be over and bumped into him in the hallway since you knew the workshop was going to be taught here today. And you could’ve done that for free. A seat could’ve gone to someone who really wanted to be here, and you still could’ve tried to date him.”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that,” Jennifer snapped irritably. S
he crossed her bony arms over her chest.

  I shrugged. “Honestly, what you do doesn’t matter to me. You asked me a question, so I answered it. I was surprised, but I wasn’t judging you. Anyway, do you have anything you want to add to the list?” I asked, changing the subject and focusing on the assignment.

  She grumbled under her breath as she read over what I’d written. “You forgot to add thin to the list.”

  Her snarky tone and haughty look wasn’t lost on me, but my eyebrows flew up because that aspect of her personality was in sharp contrast to the bubbly woman I’d first encountered.

  I frowned. “No…”

  “It’s going to be a long class if you can’t compromise, Kia.”

  I inhaled deeply and then exhaled slowly, calming myself down. I cocked my head to the side as I eyed her. “Okay, first of all, my name is Akila,” I corrected her before saying it slower and phonetically. “Ah-key-la.”

  “That’s basically what I said,” she argued, fingering her short blonde bob and rolling her eyes. “Kia, Akila, same thing.”

  Ignoring her, I continued, “Second, and most importantly, I don’t have to compromise on that.”

  Her brown eyes widened indignantly. “What?!”

  “I don’t have to compromise,” I reiterated calmly, watching as our instructor spoke with a student outside of the classroom.

  “Yes, you do!” She jerked her hands through her hair irritably.

  Glancing at my watch, I regretted arriving to class early and flashing a friendly smile to Jennifer as she walked into the room.

  My smile was lethal.

  It was as warm and welcoming as it was seductive and flirtatious. With a single parting of my lips, I’ve made women want to be my best friend and gotten men to do my bidding. I never mean for it to happen and it never was an inconvenience until it happened with men I didn’t want to date or women I didn’t want to be friends with. Which incidentally, happened often. So, I should’ve guessed that Jennifer would take my smile as an invitation to sit in the empty seat beside me.

  Even though it was not.

  I sighed. “The directions on this paper clearly state that we are to get with a partner and write five characteristics of a beautiful woman that ‘both partners agree on’. The ‘both partners agree on’ part is pretty specific.”