Something Just Like This

by Tracy Krimmer

  “I do. I don’t know if I should though. Besides, now he’s a client. Do you think it’s a smart idea for us to get involved?”

  “Hey, you know my saying: Love has no boundaries. And love is not proud. So suck it up.”

  “Isn’t that a line from Corinthians?”

  “Suck it up?”

  “No! Love is not proud.”

  “Maybe. But all I’m saying is don’t let your pride get in the way. If you like Landon, and I’m pretty sure you do, don’t sit around and wait for him to ask you out. Go for it.”

  I twirl my phone in my hands, contemplating what she’s suggesting. “What would I even say? I’ll sound desperate. I like this guy. The last thing I want to do is come across as desperate.”

  “Maybe he’s into that.”

  “Well if he’s into desperate women, then I don’t want to go out with him again.” Please don’t let that be the type of woman he likes. I don’t do desperate. I like this man too much for something like that to ruin it.

  “I’m sure he’s not.” She stands up, unravels the hair in her bun, and sweeps it back up again. “So, are you going to ask him?”

  “I don’t know. What would I even say?”

  “How about ‘Do you want to go out again?’ That seems like an obvious way to approach it.”

  “Ha, Ha. Miss Obvious over here.”

  “Well, you asked me for a suggestion so I’m giving you one.”

  She’s right, and I know she is. I hate it when she’s right. What’s the worst that can happen if I ask him? He can say no. Then at least I’ll know he’s not interested. Of course he could say yes and then go out with me again under the impression I’m this loser who has to be with someone. That’s not the case at all. I don’t have to be with anyone. I like him. Really like him. This hasn’t happened in a long time.

  My phone stares back at me, my text message app taunting me. Do I or don’t I? Life is about taking chances. Go for it. Put yourself out there. I type his number in the To: bar, writing the words as my hand shakes. Asking him is only a send button away.

  “Come on, Juliette, are you going to ask him or what?”

  I take a deep breath and close my eyes as I press the button. “I just did.”

  9

  Landon

  I stare at my screen, the message covering up the cute picture of Juliette.

  I’d love to see you again. Are you game?

  She’s asking me out again. The words float on my phone, awaiting a reply. I don’t want to be surprised she wants to see me again but her demeanor during the meeting appeared as though her interest level was low. The meeting was kept strictly business. I didn’t expect for a full-on make out session in the middle of her office, but I hoped for some flirtation and a sign she wants to pursue me. When she reached her hand across the table to point something out in the paperwork, I noticed her long nails and slick manicure. I imagined her fingers moving up and down my body. Oh, the things she could do to me, and I could do to her.

  “Dude, what is it?” My buddy Calvin snags my phone from me. I try to snatch it back but he pushes my hand away. “Is this from that chick you were telling me about?”

  “She’s not a chick. She’s a woman, and a damn good-looking one at that.”

  “Are you going to go out with her again?” He hands the phone back, shoving it into my chest. Yeah, he’s been lifting weights. He can bench more than me, and it’s obvious as my chest throbs.

  “Dude, your hands are covered in sweat.” I use my shirt to wipe off my screen. Sure, it’s wet from my own sweat, but I’d rather have mine on my phone than his. I worked off what sexual tension I could during my workout, but after this text, I’m tight again. “I want to. She didn’t seem that into me though.”

  “She was at work. Did you expect her to swipe everything off her desk and beg you to take her?”

  “Um, no, and I would never expect that.” Calvin watches too much porn. He’s still waiting for a sexy woman to call for dishwasher repair only for him to show up, and there’s a bounty of women waiting to bone him. His view on dating is much different than mine. And yet, he has a steady girlfriend. Go figure.

  “You should. It’d be tight.” He pulls his sweaty shirt over his head and tosses it in his bag. “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to say yes, of course.”

  He snatches my phone from me again. “That fast? She’s going to think you’re desperate. No. You can’t be so obvious, Landon. Make her wait it out. Give her something to look forward to.”

  “Isn’t a date with me enough?”

  “Now you’re being cocky.” He slicks his hair back before putting his glasses back on. “Seriously, though, don’t try too hard. If you give in so easily now, you’re in for a world of trouble.”

  “Is that what happened with Monica? You showed interest in her, became exclusive, and now it’s just the worst because you’re in a committed relationship?”

  I really like Monica. She’s good for Calvin. Before he met her, I labeled him a playboy, with a different woman every month. Now he’s home most nights binging on Netflix shows instead of out at the bar picking up women. It’s been a pleasant change. Besides, then he’s not asking me to go to the bar every night. I hate the bar.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t. If you think that means I’ll be whipped if I say yes right away—”

  “Well, if you put it that way, I mean, who doesn’t want to be whipped.”

  “Okay.” I throw my hand up in the air. “I’m done with you. I don’t care how I look. I’m well past coming across as desperate. Maybe if were sixteen, but I’m forty. Over the hill. I don’t need to play games.”

  “Games are fun, man!” He slaps me on the back.

  It doesn’t matter how much she wants me. I’m not trying to measure her desire for me on a scale. All I know is I can’t get her out of my mind. I want to see her again. Okay, I’m desperate to see her again. I’ll admit it.

  “Give me back my phone.” I yank it out of his hand and reply to Juliette. She doesn’t waste time responding, either, and tells me she works at the mall from six to eight tomorrow but I can meet her right after work.

  She doesn’t have to tell me twice.

  10

  Juliette

  My nights working as an elf go by fast. The closer we come to Christmas, the busier we get, and I barely have a moment’s rest. Tonight drags on as I count every minute until my date with Landon. My legs shake, my heart races, and there’s a triple knot in my stomach. I ask him to meet me by my car, and we can take one vehicle on our date.

  The cold air whips me in the face, an unwelcome bite from the warmth of the mall. I hold my breath as though that will keep me warm. I parked my car three rows over almost to the end. With the mall closing, the lot is almost empty, and only a few cars fill the spaces around mine. I pick up my pace to reach my car quicker, my keys in my hand as I see a figure near my vehicle.

  Wait. That’s Landon.

  “Hey,” I say as I come up behind him.

  Gosh, he’s gorgeous. He turns his head, a dimple next to his mouth apparent as he smiles. “Hey.” Even in the darkness, I make out a glimmer in his eyes.

  He pushes himself off the car in a Jake Ryan kind of way. Swoon. Then he takes his hat off and rakes his fingers through his dark hair. It’s so thick and dark. Double. Swoon. When he bites his bottom lip, I’m tempted to yell “swoon” at the top of my lungs. I somehow contain myself.

  What lottery did I win to meet this man?

  “Have you been waiting long?” I assume he hasn’t been standing outside of his car for an extended period of time—only after he saw me exit the mall. Still, it’s no fun hanging out in a car alone while waiting for someone.

  “No. And even if I was, you’re worth the wait.”

  Is there another word for swoon? A better one? Because I’m feeling it in this moment. This is straight out of a romance novel type of stuff. That
’s it. Landon isn’t real. He’s a character from a book. That’s the only explanation.

  Except it’s not. He’s real, standing in the flesh in front of me. Me. My gosh, I feel like I’m in grade school, giddy over a boy. He checks all the boxes: cute, smart, funny. All. The. Boxes.

  “Any crazy elf stories today?”

  “No vomiting, but we did have a kid in the middle of potty training not quite make it to the bathroom.”

  “Yikes!” He laughs, a kind of small hysterical laugh that he’s trying to hold in. I’m sure he’s picturing me either covered in it or swooping in with a bucket or something to save the day.

  “Don’t worry. Nothing got on me. I totally would have canceled this date if that had been the case.” I don’t embarrass easily, but going on a date in urine scented clothes makes the list.

  I wonder what he’s thinking in the moments we don’t speak. What if he’s being polite and doesn’t really care about my elf stories? He only asks out of courtesy. Does he wonder why I do this if I make a decent living as a financial advisor? Does he see this woman in costume and want to run in the other direction assuming maybe I’m really some sort of crazy person? I really wonder, but at the same time I’m afraid to know the answer.

  “I have to ask,” he says as he scratches the stubble on his face. “Do you like wearing that elf costume?”

  This isn’t the first time I’ve been asked that question, and I guarantee it won’t be the last. In fact, I’m asked it so much I should probably wear a sign with the answer on it, save people time. The question tires me, but this is the first time I don’t mind being asked. I can tell he’s sincerely asking and not mocking me in his head. I know I get my share of those every day.

  “Honestly?”

  “Is there any other way?”

  A man who wants the truth. As much as I want to hide from it sometimes, I’m grateful to have met someone who doesn’t want to play games and wants to lay everything out on the table. I don’t know if I can put everything out there right away, but this is a start.

  “I hate it.” I cover my face with my hand. “I really do not like it. But, it’s the job, so I push through like you would with any job.” I need to explain more. “I mean, I love how excited the kids get, and the fact that I can donate this money means everything to me, but when it comes to the elf costume, well, I hate it.” I play with the piece of green cloth peeking out from under my jacket. “I don’t look as cute as Zooey Deschanel or even Will Ferrell.”

  “You’re about three million times cuter than Zooey Deschanel.”

  “And Will Farrell?”

  “Eh,” he smiles as he shrugs his right shoulder.

  “Geez, thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.” I know one thing, he knows how to make me laugh, and that’s one of the most important things on my list, the one that he’s checked so many boxes off.

  He’s staring, and I don’t know if he wants me to say anything more, and if he does, what? The smile brushed across his face warms me inside, which is perfect timing since I’m feeling the chill outside. My nose is ice cold, and my cheeks are slowly following behind.

  “Juliette?”

  He says my name as a question, but with such intent I lose my breath. “Yes?”

  “Would it be okay if I kissed you right now?”

  My reddened cheeks brighten, confused between the cold air and warmth of his smile. I’m flattered he’s asking permission, and it makes me want to kiss him even more. I’ve wanted him to kiss me since the first time we went out. And I want him to kiss me even more now.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  As quickly as I can reply, he wraps his arms around me, swinging me around so I’m pressed up against his car. His lips against mine are natural like we fit together, and all we’ve been doing all our lives is trying to find our way to each other. His hands roam around my back, finding their way to the back of my neck. All the hair on my body lifts, goosebumps everywhere, but I’m so hot from his kiss right now. When we break away from each other, I almost call out that I’m not ready to let him go.

  “Wow.” He leans in and kisses my cheek, and my legs tremble.

  “Wow,” I repeat in a whisper. “That was…amazing.”

  His hand moves around to my cheek and he thumbs the area he kissed. His hand is so soft against my skin, and I want him to kiss my cheek again so his touch never leaves me. “I know this is only our second date, but I’ve wanted to do that long before our first.”

  Landon stands before me, his hand still on my cheek. This can’t be real. I need him to pinch me.

  Except I don’t want to wake up.

  11

  Landon

  Never in my life have I experienced a first kiss like the one I share with Juliette. Most times they’re awkward, a tangled mess of tongues, bumping noses, and unfamiliarity. Not this time. My first kiss with Juliette is one that I’ll never erase from my memory, and I want to make a million more memories with her. Preferably ones that include our lips. Her lips.

  I don’t want to move too fast with her. At the same time, I want to leave everything behind and run away with her. I’m not reckless; I know I can’t do that. I’m falling so fast soon I’ll crash on the ground. I should slow down. I need to slow down. Courtney will kill me if I don’t pump the brakes.

  But Courtney’s situation also makes me realize that while keeping a foot hovering over the brake is important, sometimes you need to step on the gas. Everything can disappear at any moment.

  “Want to get out of here?”

  Juliette breaks me free of my trance. I could stare at her for hours, never blinking once, drinking her in. I do want to get out of here. I want to take her back to my place, lay her on my bed, and treat her like the woman she is. But that’s the exact opposite of what my brain is telling me I should do.

  Stupid brain.

  “Yeah. What do you have in mind?”

  She dangles her keys in front of me, a sly look on her face. “I’ll drive.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Juliette and I are standing inside Marty’s Race Experience, the roar of go-karts shooting around us, whizzing around the track. “I’m almost afraid to ask what we’re doing here.”

  “Well, we’re racing, of course.”

  Wow. A woman not afraid to sit behind the wheel. I watch as she slaps forty dollars down on the counter, thanks the clerk, and hands me a helmet. “You’re not scared, are you?”

  Does she really think I’m afraid? I mean, I doubt I have a reason to be. “Honey, I’ll have you know I grew up playing racing games on the Atari.”

  She pats the helmet in my hand. “Well, I grew up on the race track.” She slides the helmet over her head. I don’t think she’s ever looked sexier than she does with the helmet, a green elf suit, and red and white striped stockings. “So you better watch out.”

  She turns on her toe and heads to the race track, already leaving me in the dust. I jog to catch up with her. “These are go-karts, you know.”

  “So? They still go fast, and I can take you down. That’s what’s important here.”

  My lips curl up into a smile. “Is it?”

  “You bet.”

  She selects the go-cart in lane three, leaving me with four other choices. I take lane five. I can take the corners at a much wider turn and gain speed on her.

  We start the engines, and I’m surprised I don’t smell gas.

  “Electric. Better for the environment and our health.”

  I know I’m in trouble when the light turns green, and she squeals out of her lane before I even think about it.

  My foot touches the floor as I press the pedal all the way down. My head jerks back, the weight of the helmet pulling me down. The first corner approaches, and I yank on the wheel to make the turn, needing to swing it back so I don’t almost hit the wall. Juliette waves, never even turning her head to glance back at me. I don’t wave back, focusing on the track. We have four laps, and with the first lap al
most complete, she is doing what she promised and leaving me in the dust.

  As we move into the second lap I gain a bit of ground. It’s obvious she’s slowing down on purpose to allow me time to catch up. Fine. I’ll let her. It gives me the perfect opportunity to take the lead.

  Do I care if she beats me? Do I want her to win the race? My testosterone is strong, trying to take control of the situation, but the part of me that wants her so bad is holding back. I’m in the lead for lap two and lap three, but as soon as we start lap four she whips past me so fast I almost lose control of the go-kart. She’s a full half lap ahead of me when she strolls over the finish line claiming victory.

  When I park my go-kart, she’s already been standing on the sidelines for almost a full minute, her arms crossed as she taps her foot.

  “Couldn’t keep up, could you?”

  Her helmet is tucked onto her side, her hip jutted out. With her head tipped to the right, her hair falls with it, the reddish-brown locks hitting her shoulder.

  “I could. I choose not to.”

  “You let me win?”

  The doubt in her voice is apparent. I didn’t let her win. She beat me fair and square, but the man inside me can’t admit that to her. Even if I try to open my mouth to speak the truth, I can’t. “I sure did,” I agree, even though I know she doesn’t believe me. I like that she humors me.

  I take her helmet from her and hand them back to the clerk. She flicks her hair back and runs her fingers through it to comb it out. I wish my fingers were in her hair.

  “What?” She says.

  “What?”

  “You’re staring.”

  “Am I?” I hadn’t realized I was, but I’m not surprised. I don’t care if she catches me. I can stare at her for hours. “So racing, huh?”

  “Yeah.” She leads me over to a bench and we sit down. “My dad used to race, years back. He started me on the go-karts. I always wanted to race a car, but after my parent’s divorce, we sort of stopped doing this stuff together. I come here at least once a week and take a few laps.”