Relationship Goals

by Christina C Jones

  “Yep,” he said, washing down a mouthful of the warm, fluffy biscuits with a drink of water. “Well, I’m going to help him with it, and then help him shop it around. There’s nothing on the market geared at their age range, with kids that look like them. I’m going to do what I can to bring it to fruition.”

  I nodded. “I like that. Hashtag, black teen love.”

  “There you go,” he laughed. “Although, I’m a little surprised you’re joking about those hashtags. Glad you’re taking it in stride - and don’t seem mad at me anymore.”

  I shrugged. “No point in that now, right? I mean, we’re here sharing a meal.”

  “Hashtag, black love. Hashtag, relationship goals.”

  “Oh my God,” I giggled. “Could you not, though? Can you believe how people ran with that?”

  He shook his head. “Man, I imagine you looking at it like, “relationship goals”? I don’t even know this clown.”

  “It wasn’t exactly like that, but yeah, kinda. But isn’t that just like the internet? Taking what looks good on the surface and making it something it isn’t.”

  “Yeah that whole hashtag is full of shallow shit anyway.”

  “Typically, yeah. But sometimes there are real gems.”

  Nick’s eyebrows lifted. “You scroll through often or something?”

  I laughed. “No, I wouldn’t say often, but a time or two. It can be a good spirit lifter.”

  He studied me for a second, and then picked up his glass, lifting it to the middle of the table. “In that case, here’s to finding the diamonds in the rough.” A smile spread across his lips as he waited for me to toast with him. After a moment, I was unable to keep a grin of my own from blossoming.

  He was very, very good at that.

  Since the airport, I’d felt an energy that was very different. After dealing with Sam, and every guy before him, Nick felt different.

  Refreshing.

  I picked up my glass, and tapped it against his.

  “I’ll drink to that.”

  4.

  #NOAH

  I’d like to see you again before I leave.

  That was how we closed a lunch break that ended up being nearly three hours long. He wanted to see me again, and I didn’t particularly want to leave in the first place, so of course I agreed.

  Nick had friends here – one being Rashad, Sugar&Spice magazine’s staff photographer, and other things besides me to occupy his time. He was giving me room to breathe, I could tell – he didn’t want me to feel obligated to entertain him since he’d flown out for me, and probably didn’t want me thinking he expected that.

  Ultimately, we decided on dinner the next night – the last night of his short trip. He made us reservations at Butter, an upscale spot in the city I’d never been to before. I was excited to finally get a taste of the food I’d heard so much about, and excited to see him.

  It felt good to be excited about somebody, purely by virtue of who they were. Not because of fancy gifts, or good sex, or any of the other things I was coming to view as traps. Or rather, distractions. It was easy to get wrapped up in being showered with things, or the proverbial “dick too bomb”, and end up wasting away in a dead situation.

  I knew that all too well, from up close and personal experience.

  With Nick, there was no expectation of anything beyond a good meal and good conversation, and I couldn’t think of many things would please me more.

  I smoothed my hands over my hips in the mirror, hoping the pale gold, wide-legged slacks I’d paired with a sheer, floral printed top was “dressy” enough for Butter. I’d googled extensively, and even called about the dress code, so I knew it was fine on paper, but I didn’t want to be under-dressed.

  My makeup was already done, hair pulled up in my “pineapple” style, since it was something Nick had brought up in our conversation the day before. In the mirror, my face spread into a smile. I looked good. I looked great and I was confident Nick would think so too. I wanted to see his eyes light up with pride at having me on his arm for the night, wanted him to do that thing where he stepped in all close to kiss my cheek in greeting – as he’d done in parting, after lunch.

  And later... would he kiss me again? Kiss me goodbye, or just good night?

  All of that was swirling in my head when my cell phones rang, and I shuffled across my scuffed hardwood floor to take it off the charger and answer it.

  “Hello?” I said, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.

  “Noah? It’s Nick.”

  I closed my eyes, enjoying the lingering warmth of his deep tone in my ear. “Yeah, I know. I saved your number,” I explained, walking to the closet and flipping the light on. “I’m getting ready to put my shoes on, and then I’m headed your way.”

  “Yeah... about that.”

  I stopped mid-reach for a pair of shoes, and straightened up. “What is it?”

  “Uh, something came up. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to rain check on dinner.”

  Propping my free hand on my hip, I frowned. “Nick, you’re going home tomorrow, and home is in Los Angeles. How exactly would it be a raincheck?”

  “I know. I’m sorry is all I can say.”

  I scoffed. “Okay. Well, what happened? Are you leaving early or something?”

  “I don’t want to get into it, but just know, I’m only cancelling because I have to. Not because I want to.”

  “Wow.” I bit the inside of my lip, trying to check my anger before I continued. “Nick, you’re cancelling Friday night plans with me, at the very last minute, and I can’t even get a real explanation?”

  There was silence on the other end for several seconds, and then a heavy sigh. “Noah... I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Have a safe flight tomorrow,” I said, then pulled the phone away from my ear, making sure to end the call before I tossed it across the bed. As soon as I felt the prickle of disappointed tears behind my eyelids, I shook my head.

  You’re overreacting.

  I closed my eyes, pushing out a breath. I was overreacting. Had I gushed about it over tapas with Arizona and Keri the night before? Sure. Had I been giddy about it all day? Sure. Had I devoted probably too much time to choosing an outfit, doing my makeup, and styling my hair? Definitely.

  But it was just a date. And honestly, I barely knew Nick anyway. Dates got cancelled all the time, life happened. And Nick had let me know, instead of standing me up. We didn’t know each other in such a way that I was owed an explanation – a “hey, I can’t make it” call was all that was required.

  Which... maybe that’s why it was so disappointing. I’d already built him enough of a pedestal in my head that I expected more.

  That was my bad. Not his.

  A passing glance in the mirror reminded me I was fully dressed. There was no point in wasting the effort I’d put into getting ready – not when Arizona had invited me to an industry event thing for the R&B singer Ragee. I remembered her making a point of leaving the “hoe gear” at home, and wearing a sage green sweater-dress and boots. I put a hand to my mouth, absently biting down on one of my nails. Fashion wasn’t my wheelhouse at the magazine, but I could put together an outfit post for my Instagram. Me, Arizona, and I was pretty sure I could get a few others to let me snap a picture.

  I clapped my hands together and smiled, heading back to the closet for shoes. Just that quickly, my night was turned around.

  Well, somewhat.

  I was still disappointed about Nick, but I’d be damned if I was going to wallow in it, not when I barely knew him. It was probably just as well that he let me down now instead of later. My imagination had already been running wild about him, and if I was going to learn from past mistakes, it was best to nip that whole thing in the bud before it even started.

  Once I had my shoes on, I grabbed a cute blazer that worked with my outfit and put it on. Purse, keys, cell, and one last check in the mirror left me ready to go.

  I was a little excited to go net
work and listen to some good music. As I unlocked and opened the door, I sang the words to one of Raj’s songs, bobbing my chin to the background music as it played in my head. I was turned to lock the door behind me when I heard footsteps, and I grinned, expecting it to be Arizona.

  “What’d you forget this time, Z?” I asked, pulling my key back out and opening the door. When I turned around, my heart leapt up into my throat.

  It was not Arizona.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, smiling as his gaze washed over me.

  I rolled my eyes. “What the hell are you doing here, Sam?”

  I stepped back as he stepped forward, and his shoulders sank. “You haven’t been returning calls, responding to me texts...”

  “Because I blocked you,” I explained, crossing my arms. “Our lack of communication is very much on purpose.”

  “Noah, why?”

  I sucked my teeth. “You cannot seriously be wondering. You know good and damned well why. Don’t play with me.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” he insisted, moving so quickly to close the space between us that I didn’t have time to react before his arms were around me. And... shit. Despite my anger, his touch still felt good.

  His touch had always felt good.

  Sam was the kind of guy that was very, very easy to get wrapped up in. Tall, and charming, and tall. It didn’t hurt that he was handsome – brown sugar skin, bald, beard sprinkled with a dash of salt and pepper – but it was mostly that damned charm.

  He’d been the one to approach me – at a networking opportunity not unlike the one I’d been headed to – wanting to collaborate. He was a tech guy – had an app or something he wanted me to try out, share with my followers. The reason for the “or something”?

  We didn’t get very far into the details.

  His app didn’t fit my brand, so the guise of business was eliminated quickly. I wanted him, and I wasn’t ashamed or shy about saying it, especially since the way his eyes kept lingering at my breasts said the interest was mutual.

  We were adults. We said what we had to say to get to the place of doing what we wanted to do – each other.

  “Noah,” he said as he lowered his mouth to my ear, in a low, sexy timbre that made my knees feel a little like jello. “I messed up, baby. I know that. But you can’t tell me I’ve ever made you doubt how I feel about you.”

  That was almost true.

  Sure, it started as just sex – incredible sex – but as usual, developed into something further. It had been nearly a year and a half since the event where we met. Over time, we’d come to care for, and maybe even love each other.

  Sam wasn’t jealous, or demanding. He was working on his career and I was working on mine, with little interest in being up under someone all the time. We were busy, but we both understood, and simply worked around it. I wanted a situation that was just mine – not for public consumption, at all. He was on board with that. When we were together, Sam was affectionate, fun, always with a gift in hand, never selfish in bed.

  So no, I didn’t ever question how he felt, not while we were in the midst of whatever it had been. But the thing was...

  “Can your wife say the same thing?”

  Warm air rushed past my ear as he let out a sigh, then stepped back, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Because he knew.

  “Nothing to say? No more excuses? No more, “you don’t understand the situation, it was already over.”?”

  He scoffed. “You don’t understand the situation, and it was already over.”

  “There is nothing to understand!” I snapped, nostrils flaring. “It is not over, until a court of law says so.That is how it works. And since last I heard, the two of you were trying to work it out, I’m not sure what the hell it is you want from me.”

  His hands went up into the air. “I want you to hear me out. I want you to hear what I’m saying, and believe I’m telling you the truth. I’ve never lied to you, Noah.”

  “A lie by omission is still a lie,” I hissed. “And a whole ass wife is big omission!”

  “Noah, please.”

  He reached for my hand, and I snatched away, backing up toward my front door. “No. Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again.”

  “Just listen, please... we’re not working it out. I moved out, to my own place. We’d been separated for damn near six months when I met you. I’ve been waiting on her to sign the papers since then, and she won’t. She insisted on the counseling – said if we did that, and then she would sign the papers.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Because she still wants you, Sam. She is holding on to her marriage, and you have gravely misunderstood who I am if you think I’m going to spend any amount of time knowingly in the way of another woman.”

  “You don’t even know her,” he said, with obvious frustration in his voice. “How is her side more important than mine to you?!”

  “Have you ever even paid attention to my brand, Sam?! Women’s empowerment, wellness, mental health. It’s not a gimmick for me – I actually care, and I will always find myself on the “not screwing someone’s husband” side of any equation where that’s an option. Leave me alone. Go back to your wife. Or, do her a favor, and don’t. Get your shit together, and then maybe find someone else to be with.”

  Sam made a sound that was half-sigh, half-growl. “Fuck, Noah! Come on! How are you this cold about this? Huh? Did this shit never mean anything to you?”

  “Of course it meant something to me!” I snapped back. “The problem is, the fact that you lied about something so massive makes me wonder if it ever meant anything to you. You only get one shot with my trust, and you blew it. Good. Bye. Go away. If you contact me again, I’m calling the police.”

  With that said, I stepped back into my apartment and slammed the door closed behind me before I locked it. As soon as my fingers left the cold metal, it was like something in me crumbled, and I gave up trying to hold back my tears.

  So much for turning this night into something.

  I didn’t even bother wiping the tears away as I undressed, stripping down to nothing to climb into the shower. I let the hot water spray over me, over my face, over my hair, trying to scrub away the ickiness of that interaction with Sam, the knowledge I’d assisted in the betrayal of his vows, my disappointment about the cancelled date with Nick... everything.

  When I left the shower, I didn’t feel better. I didn’t feel warm or motivational, I felt pissed. I felt stupid.

  Stupid for not knowing something was up with Sam, stupid for thinking the thing with me and Nick might actually be a thing. As I stepped out of the bathroom, my eyes landed on yesterday’s flowers, still perched where I’d placed them on my bedside table. I lowered my face to them, inhaling their sweet, earthy scent before I picked them up carried them into kitchen.

  I dropped them right into the trash, vase and all.

  Now, I felt a tiny bit better.

  I pulled a smile to my face as I headed back to my room, and straightened my shoulders. So what if I wasn’t going out tonight? I had wine, I had candles, and I had my kindle. And if that wasn’t enough, my bedside boyfriend had never let me down.

  Men, on the other hand... I should’ve known better.

  5.

  #NICK

  There was nothing to gain from pretending I hadn’t messed up with Noah. I had, and I knew from the moment she hung up after I cancelled our dinner date. The calls she sent straight to voicemail and ignored texts only drove her point home further.

  Maybe I should have taken the hint. It was obvious she’d written me off, and didn’t want to be bothered. But there was still that thread of something that, for whatever reason, wouldn’t let my brain accept that as the end. If she’d said, “Leave me alone,” or even anything like it, I’d honor that, no question. But I couldn’t help feeling like there was a reason she hadn’t.

  When I saw she was going to be at an event in LA, two weeks after that fateful airport kiss, I bought a ticket
to it. And I went.

  I arrived early, hoping for the unlikely event that I’d be able to catch her before it started. Security hadn’t gotten into place yet at the venue, so I slipped in easily, looking around the large space that was set up theatre style – workers were even putting together a small stage.

  To the right of the room, caterers had set up a table of snacks, and that was where I spotted Noah – or rather, her hair. She had the fro out today, and was taking full advantage of the warm weather, in a jumpsuit that dipped low at the back, showing off smooth dark skin.

  It was like a magnet.

  My head was high as I walked over to where she stood, taking care not to get too close before I called her name. When she turned from the duo of women she was talking to, recognition was the first thing to light her eyes. There was a quick flash of happiness before she shuttered it, fixing her face into a muted scowl.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, with a distinct frostiness that stung.

  “Yes,” I answered, pulling a smile to my face to combat her icy demeanor. “Remember that rain check I mentioned on dinner? I’m here, you’re here, so I figured maybe...?”

  She scoffed. “What, so you can cancel on me at the last minute again, without an explanation? I think I’ll pass. And if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish getting ready for this event, which is for ticket-holders only.”

  “I wouldn’t cancel on you again, Noah. And I have a ticket.”

  Her eyes widened a bit over that news. “Oh. Well, enjoy the show.”

  “And what about dinner?” I asked, taking a step closer.

  “What about it?” She crossed her arms, tipping her head back at me, not bothering to hide any of the disdain in her expression.

  “I know I messed up by cancelling on you, and I’m sorry. Give me an opportunity to make it up to you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Any time a man has said those words to me, it has always been followed by some bullshit, and preceded by some bullshit I shouldn’t have accepted in the first place.”

  “That’s not this,” I insisted. “And I’m not them.”