The Blessing

by Elizabeth Price

  Ronnie comes over an hour later with bags of takeout from a local Chinese place. She insisted on getting the food, stating it’d be hard for me to go anywhere with a teething baby to take care of. I insisted on paying her back for it because I didn’t want to seem like some asshole who’d mooch off her. I’ve never been the type to take advantage of someone’s good nature. Even when I was high as fuck all the time—I always managed to pay people back and do some semblance of the right thing.

  Ronnie giggles as soon as she sees my exhausted face. “You look like you’re starving. Everything go okay at work today?”

  I nod, then eagerly jog to the kitchen to grab some drinks, plates, and utensils before joining her on the couch in front of my television—which has become our normal spot. We’ve eaten a few times together at the dinner table, but most of the time I like the casual ambiance of sitting with food in front of the television after a long day at work. I want to take her somewhere nice… Hell, I’d like to take her any place at all, even if that meant the local pizza spot or a chain restaurant nearby. Since we’ve become friends, we haven’t been out to eat once. I’m always too tired and we’re both such homebodies, so we always liked staying in. But I can’t use that as an excuse anymore. If I want her to see me in a different light, I’ve got to start doing all that romantic shit. Which is too bad because I wouldn’t know “romantic” if it punched me in the face.

  I want to give her sunshine and fucking rainbows, and hearts and flowers, but I don’t even know where to begin. I’ve heard of guys visiting their girl at work and bringing her coffee or lunch; I would start there, except Ronnie works from home. I could always stop by a coffee shop on the way home and pick her up something. She’d probably be impressed.

  “What has you so lost in thought?” I hear Ronnie tease me, causing me to peer up from my box of kung pao chicken to look at her.

  “It’s nothing,” I say, hoping I don’t look as embarrassed as I feel. I look at Grey, who’s rocking away in his baby gym and smile, wondering if I could incorporate him into my plan to “woo” Ronnie. Woo? Really, Trevor? When have you ever used that word?

  “Grey stood up today,” I state, smoothly changing the subject. “He pulled himself up off the floor and stood up for a few seconds before falling right back down on his ass.”

  Ronnie practically chokes on her fried rice as she laughs. “That’s amazing, Trev! Maybe he’ll do it for me later? That’s so impressive!”

  I sit up straighter, feeling proud of her assessment of my little boy. “I think he’s been afraid of trying to do it since he fell, but I’m sure he’ll forget all that and try again soon enough.” She smiles at this and continues to eat her food. “Hey, I wanted to ask you about something coming up next month…” I begin, enjoying the way she instantly perks up in her seat. “It’s my mother’s birthday the thirteenth and she’s having this big party and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me?” I pause, running a hand through my hair in a nervous gesture. “I just don’t want to go alone, you know? All my parents’ friends will be hounding me all night if I’m by myself.” I know it doesn’t sound like a romantic gesture in the least, but I also want her there because I feel calmer when she’s at my side. So, I tell her that. “I really want you there with me, Ronnie. It’ll be hell without you.”

  She smiles, finally seeming convinced. “I’ll go with you, Trev. Don’t sweat it.” She pauses to look at Grey. “Is Grey coming with us?”

  “Yeah, I think my mother will want the chance to show him off to her friends.”

  “Well, I’m sure we’re in for a fun night,” Ronnie says with a coy grin. Hell, if she only knew. We’re in for a night, all right. But I’m not sure how fun it’ll be.

  Ronnie’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she quickly whips it out to read a text. She rolls her eyes as she looks at the screen and puts her phone face down on the couch.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s nothing,” she says with an annoyed shake of her head. “It’s just my sister, Eden. She thinks she’s a matchmaker. I love her, but sometimes she drives me crazy. She thinks since she’s older, she should try to help me out—but sometimes I wish she’d just take a hint and back off.”

  “What do you mean ‘matchmaker’?” I ask, wanting to kick myself for the nervousness that is creeping into my voice. Her sister’s trying to set her up with someone? Hell, I hope she doesn’t succeed in finding someone for Ronnie because I’m someone for Ronnie. I’m man enough for her. Whether her sister is aware of that or not.

  “Eden’s trying to set me up on a blind date with one of her friends.” Oh, fuck no. That’s not going to happen. “I tried telling her I don’t feel comfortable with a blind date. I wouldn’t be so opposed if it was an acquaintance, but if things go sour between me and one of her friends it’s going to be awkward.”

  It’s going to be especially awkward when I bust in and kick Eden’s friend’s ass for trying to get with my girl. Ronnie my not know it yet because I only realized it myself a little bit ago—but she’s going to be mine one day. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day she’ll be my girl. I don’t want to sit on the sidelines and watch her try to find happiness with some other guy. She doesn’t need other men. She just needs me.

  “What are you going to tell your sister?”

  She shrugs and takes a bite of her eggroll. “I’m just going to tell her to forget about it for now. I’m not really looking to date right now. I just got my career rolling and I want to ride that wave for a while. Eden’s always been so codependent, she doesn’t understand what it’s like to actually enjoy being alone. She went from being a daddy’s girl, to having multiple boyfriends, to finding the right guy and getting hitched at twenty-two. She’s freaking out because I’m twenty-five years old and don’t even have a boyfriend.” She finally exhales after stringing all of her sentences together and smiles at me. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I just always feel like I have to defend all of my life choices to her.”

  “It’s okay,” I laugh, scooping up a fork full of fried rice off of her place and scarfing down before I continue to say, “I like your rambling.”

  “Well, that’s why you’re easily my best friend.”

  Best friend. If I play my cards right, she won’t be seeing me as her “best friend” for much longer.

  The first step in my master plan to “woo” my beautiful neighbor is bringing her a drink from her favorite coffee shop. I’d been smiling like a fool all day just thinking about the surprised look on her gorgeous face when I hand her the drink. I know it’s not a grand gesture or any shit like that, but I’ve always heard that it’s the “little things” that count. It’s just a way to show her that I appreciate and care about her. I pick up a Vanilla Hazelnut Latte on the way home—it’s the only coffee drink I really know since I’ve seen her with a cardboard cup off countless fucking times—and I can’t help but feel a little embarrassed on the way to our apartment complex. How long will it take her to notice how I feel about her, and how will I react when she finally does know?

  Part of me knows I’ll be fucking relieved, but I know another part of me is fucking nervous. I don’t want to screw things up with her. Things with her just feel so right and the thought of losing her over something stupid is terrifying for me. Hell, I want some nicotine just thinking about it. Every time I stress out I want to inhale a pack of cigarettes and forget about all my problems. The smooth rich taste of Marlboros and the nice buzz I get after a six pack of beer is like getting a hug from your oldest and dearest friend. Too bad those days are long gone. That doesn’t mean I don’t think about that shit constantly because I do. I think about it all the fucking time. Luckily, I have some amazing people to distract me from acting out on my desires. I need Grey and Ronnie more than I care to admit.

  I run by my parents to pick up Grey, explaining to my dad that I’ve got to leave straight-away. He gives me a knowing grin but doesn’t ask if it’s “because of a girl,” although, I can tell
he wants to. I’m jittery the entire way back and the kid’s music I play for Grey on the way doesn’t help my nerves one bit. “You think she’ll think me bringing her, her favorite coffee drink is cute, little man?” I ask, earning only a giggle in return. I take a calming breath as we finally arrive home and decide to play it all off as though I’m doing her a friendly favor. If she wants to read more into it… she’s more than welcome to. “Come on Grey, let’s go surprise her.” He’s babbling in my arms as I lope up the steps and Ronnie must hear us coming because she opens the door before I get the chance to knock.

  She looks flustered, causing my smile to instantly falter. “I brought you that coffee drink you like,” I say with a small smile, holding the cardboard cup out to her to take.

  A nervous laugh escapes her lips and she runs a hand through her curly hair before taking the cup. “Thanks, Trev.” She gives me a long once over, before looking nervous once again. Is something wrong? Is there some fucker I need to beat up for her?

  “Ronnie, what is it?” I ask, sounding exasperated.

  “I let Eden talk me into a date tonight,” she says quickly, as if the words were vomiting out of her pretty mouth.

  What the hell? She’s going on a date with some shithead? I guess I can’t be mad, I barely know her, and I haven’t staked my claim… but what the hell? Can’t she see that I like her? “And you want to go? I thought you were opposed to the whole ‘blind date’ thing?”

  “I am,” she says with a groan, stepping away from the door and gesturing for me to enter her apartment. She takes a sip of her drink and walks back to her bedroom, intending for Grey and me to follow her. Well, this is just fucking great. The coffee I got her is going to give her plenty of energy to hang out with some other man. No good deed goes unpunished, I guess. “Eden just has a way of talking you into things,” she continues to explain from her closet. I look around, realizing this is the first time I’ve ever seen her bedroom. She has books everywhere; not only on her multiple bookshelves, but her overflow of books are stacked haphazardly on the floor. Her room is organized though, with art prints hung on the walls, and a computer desk in the far corner. Her bed is nice—there’s more than enough room for two. “I should’ve told her no,” she continues, before my thoughts can get too dirty, “but she was just so persistent and guilted me into it. Does this look okay?” she asks, as she finally steps out of her closet in a navy dress that fits her like a glove.

  It looks fucking fantastic, but I’m not going to tell her that. She doesn’t need to be wearing a sexy dress like that to go on a date with another guy. I wonder if she has something more frumpy and dull. Maybe a dress that goes down past her knees? I’ve never been jealous before, and I can safely say that the feeling is unsettling. I never cared if other men looked at any of the women I used to “date.” Probably because I never cared about those women. They weren’t mine, so why would I care if other men looked? Ronnie, however, is a different matter entirely. The thought of any man looking at her makes my blood boil.

  “I don’t really like that dress,” I finally say.

  Her brows crease together in confusion and she crosses her arms in front of her, pushing her tits up and together. Cocking her head to the side, she asks, “What’s wrong with it? It’s just a navy dress.”

  “It’s too…” What’s the right word? Sexy, perhaps? “It’s just too much,” I finally decide on. “Maybe you can put a sweater over it?”

  She gives me a dubious look. “It’s not even September yet. It’s not that cold out, Trev.”

  “Well, this is your first date and you wouldn’t want to give the guy the wrong idea.”

  Now she looks angry. “What ‘wrong idea’ would I be giving him, Trevor?” she asks. Fuck, I love when she uses my full name when she’s upset.

  “Well, if you don’t want him to expect to come home with you, maybe you should wear something more conservative.”

  “What a typical man thing to say!” she explodes, looking angry and sexy at the same time. Hell, she’s just making me want her more and more. “Men shouldn’t expect anything on a date, regardless of what a woman wears. We don’t owe a man sex just because he decided to buy us dinner.”

  “I’m not saying that,” I say, looking down at Grey to find him wide-eyed as he looks back and forth between Ronnie and me. I place him safely on the center of her bed before continuing, “All I’m saying is this guy could be an asshole, and as an asshole, he could expect stuff like that. You don’t know him. As you said earlier, it’s a blind date.”

  “Well, he’s probably not an asshole if he’s friends with my sister,” she says before heading back into her closet.

  I sigh and take a seat on the edge of the bed, pulling Grey into my arms as I wait for her to show me another outfit. I can’t believe how this day has turned out. I started off thinking I would ease into showing her I care about her, and it’s morphed into me helping her pick out an outfit for a date like one of her fucking girlfriends. What does she expect me to do? Provide her with moral support for a date I don’t want her to go on? How can I stop her? I could always man up and ask her out myself.

  I watch her try on a few more outfits, growing angrier by the second. I’m not angry at her for going on a date—I’m angry at myself for being such a pussy. I’m brooding over something that hasn’t happened yet and don’t want to take the steps necessary to stop her. Part of me thinks she’s teasing me with all this fashion show shit. As if putting on the dresses were her way of saying, “You don’t like it? Do something about it!”

  “What do you think about this one?” she asks, as she comes out in a short black dress and does a twirl for me. What a tease.

  “Well it’s black, that’s for sure,” I say sarcastically. Grey gives her a smile of approval, before he returns to trying to place his foot in his mouth. I chuckle at his attempt and bring him to rest on my shoulder. “So, why are you asking me about this, anyway? Do I look like a man who knows anything about fashion?” I ask, gesturing to my worn black T-shirt and ripped jeans. “Can’t Eden give you advice on this girly crap?”

  “Well, I wanted a man’s opinion,” she replies with a blush.

  The tension in my chest dissipates as I see a shy smile appear on my girl’s face. “Ronnie, you know you’re beautiful. Anything you wear is going to look just fine.”

  She looks at me for a long moment, as if she were seeing me for the very first time before returning to her walk-in closet.

  I can’t contain myself any longer. I can’t sit idly by while another man pursues what’s mine. I place Grey back on the center of the bed and walk into her closet. She’s shocked at first, and I’m stunned momentarily by her exposed flesh, which she’s only making a half-assed attempt to cover. Her tits are nearly popping out of her navy-blue bra and I can see the hint of lace panties before I force myself to look her in the eyes. They’re wide and filled with excitement and lust. I may not be an expert when it comes to women, but I know lust when I see it.

  “Ronnie, I can’t let you go on this date tonight.”

  “Why? Why does my dating life matter to you?”

  “It doesn’t,” I lie, feeling angry, turned on, and embarrassed all at once. “You’re my friend and I’m looking out for you.”

  “Bullshit,” she says with a small smile. “It’s more than just that.”

  Even if she doesn’t want to date me—I want to protect her. She doesn’t even know who this douchebag is, and she wants to go on a date with him? That’s like a hundred shades of messed up. I’ve never had a female friend before, but I feel like I’d be this protective of them even if I didn’t like them romantically. I’ve seen the horrible stuff some guys can do, and I don’t want anything to happen to Ronnie.

  “Why are you even going on this date tonight?”

  “He seems nice,” she shrugs, but I know she’s baiting me. “He comes highly recommended by Eden.”

  As she slips into another dress, I grab hold of one of her arms to
stop her. “Don’t play with me.”

  “Are you looking out for me as your best friend?” she challenges.

  “No, Ronnie, I’m not.” I take a step forward, trapping her in the corner of the closet. “If you want to go on a date, I’ll take you out.”

  She tries to hide a smile but fails. “A real date?”

  “Well, we could just fake it and see how it goes,” I tease her.

  She snorts and hits my chest. “No, Trevor. I think you should try asking me out again.”

  “Cancel your date tonight, and I’ll take you out.”

  Ronnie gives me a knowing grin that has me wondering if this was her plan all along. “Okay, Trev. I’ll go out with you. But only because you begged me.”

  “I didn’t beg you,” I say, rolling my eyes at her.

  “Well, I won’t tell anyone about it, it will be our little secret,” she teases me before pushing me out of her closet. “Now give me a chance to get ready, will you? I don’t need you breathing down all of the time.”

  This girl has me wrapped around her little finger.

  Ronnie comes out in a cotton dress that shows off her stems and the top of her tits, as well as a sweater, draped over her arm, to keep her warm as we venture out into the cool, end of summer night. I want to kiss her. It just feels like such a natural thing to do, but I resist.

  “You look beautiful,” I comment as I leisurely rake my eyes over her curvy frame. She beams at me and bounces over to the bed to pick up Grey. “Do you mind if I run over to my apartment to change? I don’t want to wear this to dinner,” I say, gesturing the clothes I had worn to work.

  “That’s fine, but hurry back. I’m starving,” she says as she bounces Grey in her arms.

  I quickly cross the hall to my apartment and wash up before changing into a fresh pair of jeans and a black button up shirt. It’s by far the nicest one I have; it’s the one I wore to every job interview since it covered up the majority of my tattoos. I roll the sleeves up to my forearms to show off my rose tattoo which is intertwined with black and gray illustrations which stop at my wrists. I run a comb through my unruly hair, but I’m quick to give up, because I know taming my hair tonight is going to be a lost cause. Women love that “sex hair” look anyway, so what’s the use?