Relationship Goals

by Christina C Jones

  Goddamned “relationship goals”.

  There was no regard for the impact on my life, personal or professional. While before, I’d thought it was kind of romantic, now I was feeling a little different.

  A little angry.

  I went back to the article to see if any contact information was listed for “Nick”, and a little flame ignited in my chest when I saw there was. Just his Instagram handle - @lifeonfilm – but it was enough. Determined, I opened my own app and searched his name. When his profile came up in the results, I tapped it, then tapped the icon to send him a message that only required a single line.

  Why the hell did you kiss me?

  2.

  #NICK

  The smartphone camera was the best thing to ever happen to me. Not to be dramatic, but there was a story in everything – a lesson from my father that stuck firm with me, and informed my decisions, for better or worse. Life was too fleeting to micro-manage and over-analyze every little thing, so the question I asked myself often was, what’s going to make the best story?

  And thanks to less than a pound of glass, circuit boards and a tiny but powerful lens, I was often able to capture it.

  On the other side of a lens, anyone could be anything. The camera was an equalizer – everybody became a liar when it was pointed at them. Before he died, my father once told me he’d spent his whole life searching for a story to tell that was just the truth. No embellishments, no creative editing, no omissions, just the truth.

  Personally, I feel like truth behind the camera is a little overrated. Lies were so much more fun. Especially when I could spend my day with my nephew and his friends, using my camera phone to capture the short film these kids had written and directed all on their own.

  Their little romantic comedy was age appropriate. Payton had finagled his way into the lead role opposite Tatia – a girl whose beauty he’d waxed poetic about to me over pizza and basketball more than once.Through the course of this filming, I’d realized something he still hadn’t grasped – his crush on Tatia was mutual.

  Call me corny, whatever, but seeing their young love blossom made me happy. I watched on the screen, keeping the camera steady as their characters – Lisa and Deon – finally admitted they liked each other, after a series of funny events kept bringing them together. It was a testament to the talent and professionalism of these kids that, when Tatia/Lisa pushed herself up in her ballerina flats and kissed my nephew on the lips – something that was not in the script – nobody audibly reacted.

  Until I yelled, “cut!”.

  Then, everybody went up.

  I hung back, laughing as their friends surrounded them, giggling and chattering, teenage shit that made me miss those days, a little. Payton couldn’t stop grinning, even when he approached me later trying to be serious, asking about the shot.

  “You ain’t gotta be cool, you know?” I asked him, scrubbing a hand over his head. He ducked away from me, then shrugged as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man...”

  I chuckled. “Your ass is bright red right now, you know what I’m talking about. You be smart out here with these girls, aiight?”

  “Always, Unc.”

  My head tilted. “Always? Always? You got something you need to talk to me about?”

  “Nah,” he said, his light brown skin turning even redder. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Well, when you do start meaning it “like that”, then—”

  Payton let out a sigh. “I know, I got it. Can I see that last shot?”

  “With the heavy breathing and shit, really dude?” I chuckled. “The last shot is fine. I’m gonna send you everything tonight, so I can start teaching you how to edit.”

  “Yeah, but let me check that last one real quick just in case.”

  I smirked. “Just in case what? You’re trying to reshoot or something?”

  Payton stepped back, and I laughed as he covered his face with his hands. “Nick, chill,” he groaned through his fingers, which only made me laugh harder.

  “Oh damn, you’re real serious huh, calling me by my first name all, huh?”

  Still chuckling, I held the phone up in front of us, navigating to the video clip to hit “play”. I’d already seen the shot, so instead of watching it, I watched him, grinning at the smile he tried to hide when Tatia kissed him.

  “You satisfied now, Denzel?” I asked, and he flushed red again as I bumped his shoulder. “Y’all are going to make sure the girls get home safe, right?” I asked, referring to him and his boys. The setting sun had been great for us to get this last shot, but it was getting dark now, and it was school night for them.

  Payton nodded. “Yeah, we were gonna stop and grab some pizza, and then Tatia asked me to walk her.”

  “Oh, shit, the one on one walk home invite, I see you,” I teased. “Just don’t be out all night, I don’t want your Jamie on my ass about it.” When he confirmed he wouldn’t, I pulled out my wallet to slide a few twenties in his hand. “Pizza on me. Y’all have a good time. And stay out of trouble. Aiight?”

  “Yeah. Always.”

  I said my goodbyes to the rest of his little crew and turned to walk away.

  “Yo, Nick!” I turned to find Payton jogging up to me, concern in his eyes. “You good?”

  I nodded. “Yeah man. Same shit, different day.” I gave him an encouraging smile and then went on, trying not to give in to the urge to limp. All of my joints were aching, but after flying back this morning, then being on my feet, kneeling, squatting, all of that, to film this movie for them, my knees especially were done for the day.

  Lucky for me I didn’t live far, but the walk still took twice as long as usual. It was a nice day though – late in the summer, and the sun was almost down, so the air was cool, and clear. Instead of complaining in my head, I took it in, letting my mind roam free to figure out what my next project would be.

  I didn’t have anything by the time I made it home, but that was okay. I set up all the clips from today to upload to my cloud storage, then poured half a bag of Epsom salt in the bathtub, with the water as hot as I could stand it. After that soak, I grabbed my phone and stretched out on the couch, remote in hand. I queued up something on Netflix, then finally turned my attention to the social media notifications I’d been ignoring all day.

  My eyes damn near bugged out when I realized what it was about.

  Noah. Her name is Noah.

  My eyes darted over the picture of us from the airport, which had somehow gone viral. I studied it, reabsorbing every detail of the scene that had been replaying in my head since it happened. As I stared, one thing seemed to stick out to me the most.

  We were looking at each like Payton and Tatia looked at each other.

  But that wasn’t possible. Even though they were kids, Payton and Tatia had history. They knew each other, had a reason to be sharing long looks, a reason for their eyes to brimming with feelings.

  I hadn’t even known Noah’s name.

  But when she came out of nowhere in that airport, beautiful as hell, all I could think about was... what’s going to make the best story?

  So I kissed her.

  That wasn’t the only reason I’d kissed her, and I wasn’t necessarily proud of it either way, but there was no denying the splendor of that moment. It was right there, captured in this single photograph, with a caption that couldn’t be more incorrect if it tried.

  Curiosity drove me to tap on the @NoahKnows profile tagged in the image. Professional looking high-definition pictures spread out in front me, but there was one in particular that caught my eye.

  It seemed to be a candid shot, at someone’s home. Noah was seated at a well-worn kitchen table, elbows propped against the top, chin perched atop her laced fingers. She was smiling across the table at an older woman with similar glowing, deep brown skin. The massive hair I’d forced myself to keep my fingers out of was pulled on top of her head in a
loose ponytail I knew to refer to as a “pineapple” style from my sister. The old woman had the same style, only in gray.

  A smile spread across my mouth as I read the caption.

  “Kicking it fineapple to fineapple with the love of my life.”

  As I scrolled through her feed, I learned this woman was her grandmother, and Noah treasured her. I also learned she was a woman of many talents – she was a writer and beauty editor for a major magazine, with a degree in nutrition. She gave beauty tips, wellness tips, relationship advice. She was a force. And she was fine.

  Big, compassionate brown eyes, luscious lips, rounded nose. In a lot of pictures, she had her hair out in a big puffy fro, like I’d seen her today. She wasn’t shy about showing off her perfect mahogany skin in crop tops and shorts, and I appreciated her comfort. It didn’t seem like her style was “about that” though – it was part of who she was, and the bare skin was simply incidental. As soon as I thought that, I came across a post about appreciating the human body, not being ashamed of it, etc., that confirmed my assessment.

  Confidence practically oozed off the screen. It was easy to see why people flocked to her, and why she had such an insane number of social media followers. It also explained the steadily climbing number of notifications I was receiving – I’d messed around and kissed a damn internet celebrity.

  Definitely a good story.

  I was getting ready to clear the notifications and call it a night when I noticed the message icon. I tapped it, and smiled when I saw the first name in the long line.

  @NoahKnows wants to send you a message.

  I didn’t even think twice - I hit accept, and then laughed, out loud, as soon as I read it.

  “Why the hell did you kiss me?”

  It was a change in energy from when the kiss happened, and she’d looked disappointed it was over. But I couldn’t do anything but accept that – I’d kissed her without permission. She had the right to be belatedly ticked off about it.

  The message was from nearly three hours ago, which made me wonder where she was. Three hours ago, I was barely off my flight. Were we flying to different major cities in the same state? Was she five hundred miles away? A thousand? In a different time zone?

  All of that aside, I wanted to answer her question. It took a little effort, but I pulled myself up from the couch and went into my bedroom, where I opened a box I kept stationed on top of the dresser. In that box were two sheets of paper torn from a small notebook, and folded together. I unfolded them and flipped to the side that mattered, snapping a picture I sent straight to Noah.

  I put the phone down while I returned the papers to the box and put it back in place. When I looked at the phone again, she’d already responded.

  “@NoahKnows – are you serious with this? “Kiss a beautiful stranger”. Is this your bucket list or something?”

  I chuckled a little, and then tapped out my response. “Something like that. I apologize for any inconvenience I’ve caused you.”

  “@NoahKnows Apology not accepted. I have a million people asking a million questions I don’t have answers to, because I don’t even know you.”

  “@NoahKnows Did you know who I was when you kissed me? Was this a social media stunt?”

  Damn.

  “No, not at all. And again, I’m sorry. Not because I want you to accept it, but because I didn’t mean any harm. I didn’t think it through.”

  At first, I didn’t think she would respond to that. After a few minutes passed without a follow-up message, I went to turn off the TV in the living room, and then settled into my bed. I was dozing off when the phone chimed.

  “@NoahKnows well, maybe in the future you should. What if I had a boyfriend?”

  “So you don’t have a boyfriend?” I typed, and then grinned.

  “@NoahKnows wow. WOW. Seriously?”

  “I’m just saying, you were kind of giving me eyes at the airport, so...”

  “@NoahKnows I wasn’t giving you “eyes”, I was wondering what the hell was happening, sir.”

  “Okay. If you say so.”

  “@NoahKnows Okay, I’m done with this conversation. Have a great life. Keep your lips to yourself.”

  I grinned at her using my parting words against me. If she remembered that, the kiss had to be as deeply embedded in her mind as it was in mine. My response was still forming when another message from her popped up.

  “@NoahKnows Oh. I watched one of your short films, by the way. “Ease Into It.” Nice work.”

  “I stalked the hell out of your Instagram, by the way. Nice work. You’re beautiful.”

  “@NoahKnows Um, thanks. I, too, stalked the hell out of your social media, LOL. Trying to find all the information I could.”

  “You could just ask me what you want to know.”

  “@NoahKnows What if I don’t want to talk to you? I should be pressing charges to be honest. Make an example outta you.”

  “Ah, damn. It’s like that?”

  “@NoahKnows Maybe. I’m still thinking about it. And it’s late. I try not to make decisions when I’m sleep deprived.”

  “Understood.”

  I didn’t expect her to respond after that. Her comment about it being “late” furthered my suspicion she was in a different time zone, and I wasn’t trying to push my luck. I put my phone down too, turning it over on the face so the notification light wouldn’t keep me up.

  Physically, I was exhausted, but my brain hadn’t gotten the message. I settled into my pillows and closed my eyes, and wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when my thoughts went back to that kiss.

  She’d tasted like she’d eaten fruit for breakfast, and now that I’d had a glimpse into her lifestyle, that was fitting. I smiled to myself thinking about her – a smile that inverted when I found myself picturing how a woman like her might fit into my life.

  Definitely time to take my ass to sleep.

  I shook my head, redirecting my thoughts to Payton’s film. Or, trying to. She’d liked my work, so my mind went to maybe getting her feedback on this new thing too. It made exactly zero sense to be considering anything about a woman I didn’t even know.

  Maybe that’s why my father had never crossed Kiss a Beautiful Stranger off that list.

  He already knew it would be trouble.

  3.

  #NOAH

  Ouch.

  I frowned as I sat back in my desk chair, rubbing the bruise on my arm. I’d managed to avoid Nana the day I got back from my trip to San Francisco, but the next day – yesterday – that old lady had not been playing with me.

  It had been a long time since I’d gotten one of her hard-ass church pinches.

  Nobody – and I do mean nobody – else could scold me quite the way Helene Elaine Houston could without having a problem on their hands. But after everything the woman had done for me, I was taking my pinch and my “Do your hoing in private, where ain’t no damn cameras!” in stride, and not arguing about it.

  That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.

  I turned in my chair to look out of the window of the tiny office I was blessed to have. Just like the scenery outside the window, in the three years I’d been on staff at Sugar&Spice, my brand had blossomed into something beautiful. Of course I loved working at the magazine, but it would eventually be time for someone else to grow and bloom in the beauty editor role.

  In the meantime, I had work to do.

  No sooner than I’d woken up my laptop to read over a few article submissions, my phone chimed. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed to find it wasn’t a new message from Nick Davison, who I’d been secretly hoping would reach out to me again.

  Could I message him?

  Sure.

  But as much as I advocated for women to go after what they wanted, it didn’t feel the same. Besides - I had no idea what I wanted.

  The little quip I’d made to him about pressing charges was true - randomly kissing a stranger because it was on some list you’d come
up with was really not okay. And probably illegal. But that was only on my mind because I was searching for reasons to be bothered.

  Honestly, I thought it was kinda cute. Like the start of one of those Hallmark movies that were advertised during my nightly Golden Girls binge, only with black people. And learning that it was a bucket list thing? The romance novel realness of that made me swoon. And he was funny, based on that short exchange the other night. And talented, based on the work I’d seen. And cute.

  No.

  He was tall, dark chocolate, broad-shouldered, neo-soul song worthy fine, to be honest.

  And all the way in L.A.

  Not that it mattered.

  This wasn’t a Hallmark movie. It was real life.

  So, I pushed my focus to the Instagram message that hadn’t been from Nick - it was from my other bestie, Keri, who was usually unavailable, hard at work at building her home décor brand.

  “@PPShome - giiiirluhhhh! You not-boyfriend out here looking gooder than a lil’ bit! You SURE, like for real for real SUUURE you don’t want a piece of that?!”

  I frowned for a second, wondering what she was talking about until I scrolled up a little, realizing something else had come through before the actual message. She’d shared a post with me, from some account called wreckmyuterusplz, and apparently today’s featured eye-candy was familiar.

  It was Nick.

  And he did look “gooder than a lil’ bit”, shirtless and sweaty in what appeared to be a screengrab from a movie. I’d done enough digging to know he ended up in front of the camera sometimes, so it didn’t surprise me. What did catch me a little off guard was the body underneath those clothes.

  Was I for real for real sure I didn’t want a piece of that?

  A knock on the door had me hurrying to turn off the screen on my phone, just before one of the beauty interns stuck his head in the door. “Noah, you have a visitor waiting in reception. She wanted me to give you this message - “Tell that B to hurry the F up too, cause I’m capitol H hun-gree.”