“I’m glad you reached out,” he said, his voice rumbling in my ear as he pulled me into a hug that felt like a warm blanket on a cold day. He held me slightly longer than what was “friendly”, but there was no part of me that minded.
When we stepped back, I found myself trapped under his gaze again, and nodded. “Just doing what felt right.”
Once we were seated, in a high-backed, booth-style bench that required us to be next to each other, the server came back, asking if we were ready. To my surprise, Nick didn’t order anything.
“What, you’re just going to watch me eat or something?”
He chuckled. “I didn’t exactly plan to watch your every bite, no. Does me not getting anything bother you?”
“No, it doesn’t bother me, it’s just a little strange. I mean, you asked me out to dinner, but you’re gonna eat?”
“Correction – I asked you to dinner, and you shot me down. So, I ate something on my own, and got in the bed, and then you hit me up to say you’d changed your mind.”
“I guess that makes sense.” I frowned. “But I texted you at like eight o’clock. Why were you in bed at eight on a Saturday night?”
He shrugged. “Tired. I’m not one of the cool kids, Noah, I’m not always out kicking it.”
“Uh!” I laughed. “Are you implying that I am?”
“You had a room full of women clapping for you, listening to you, loving you, and you’re going to sit here and act like you aren’t cool?”
I sucked my teeth. “I was talking about the “out kicking it” thing, actually sir.”
“I’m just saying, it’s a little late for dinner.”
“Are you complaining?” I asked, propping my hands under my chin. I only had them there for a moment before Nick slid a little closer to me, tugging my wrist to get access to link his fingers between mine.
“Not at all, gorgeous. Like I said before, I’m glad you reached out.”
“What were you thinking when you got my text?” I looked away from our clasped fingers to bring my gaze to his face instead. His eyelids were low, like I had gotten him out of bed.
“I wondered what changed your mind. And then I decided it didn’t matter, because I wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to see you.”
I grinned. “Watching me for three hours at that event wasn’t enough for you?”
“While that was incredibly dope, no. I was very much interested in having you to myself. One on one.”
“But this is a room full of people,” I said, glancing around.
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “True, but, it’s enough that I can get close to you. Feel your energy. Look at you when I’m talking to you.”
“So you think that’s important.”
“I think it’s very important. I mean, not like every conversation requires it or anything like that, but when we’re getting to know each other, I think being able to vibe in person is important.”
I nodded. “Oh, so only at first?”
“Absolutely not. We’re too complex for that, right? You aren’t the same person you were five years ago, or hell, even last year. So even the people who’ve known you all that time, there are parts of you they’ll have to learn all over again. And even outside of that, we contain multitudes. There’s always something new to figure out.”
He didn’t stutter or falter over a single word, speaking with full commitment to what he was saying, which was intriguing to me. “Okay, so, how do you approach that? That constant evolution.”
“By talking,” he said, simply. “That probably sounds mad basic, but it’s real. I do a lot of observing, a lot of people watching, you know? And something I’ve realized is that actual conversations, the exchange of ideas and opinions... we don’t do a ton of it. Not anymore. We communicate in soundbites, everything reduced to how much you feel like typing, or what can fit in a thirty-second video. Only time people want to stay on a topic longer than a few minutes is when they’re arguing, and even that isn’t about solutions, or coming to understand each other. It’s just shouting, and beating the other person over the head with your position until they tell you you’re right.”
My lips parted for a moment before I pressed them closed, with a deep nod. “I agree. We don’t have a lot of room for healthy disagreement or debate in very many places anymore. There’s little consideration of context, and nuance is quickly becoming a lost art. I’ve already been tagged today in several long diatribes about how me and my ideas are harmful to feminism.”
Nick’s face scrunched in confusion. “What?”
“My exact reaction. But, apparently, how dare I – wearing makeup and heels, no less – suggest a successful woman maybe should consider the impact of moving across the country on her fiancé. You were there – I didn’t tell her she should give up her career for him. But, it seems even though this man helped her pay off her student loan debt, clean up her credit score, and by her account treats her a queen, his life, his career shouldn’t even factor into her decision, which is bonkers to me. If you’re planning to spend your life with someone, consideration is basic decency.”
He shook his head. “Not to everybody. And for what it’s worth, I thought your advice was great – and so did the audience. You got big handclaps for “first you need to figure out if being without ol’ boy is an option for you. If it is, you don’t need to be marrying his ass in the first place.””
“I did not say it like that, oh my God!” I laughed.
Nick shrugged. “I mean, is that not the gist of it though?”
“I guess it is. But I meant that. I would only yes to someone I couldn’t imagine living without. If you know you don’t want to be without this person, you’re going to have to figure out what’s best for your lives together, and both of your best possible outcomes should be considered.”
“You don’t have to explain it to me, Noah, I agree with you. And again, so did the women in that room. There was nothing wrong with telling her to look for similar opportunities where she lived, or help him find something in the new city, or put a timeline around it, or consider a long-distance thing. You weren’t telling her what to do. You were laying out her options.”
I sighed. “Or so I thought. I guess I shouldn’t let it bother me though. Just part of the territory with being in this industry. It weighs on you, sometimes.”
“I can only imagine. I’m not nearly as visible as you are, and I’m a man, so nobody gives a shit what I’m talking about,” he chuckled. “But I don’t know... most people who have a following the size of yours, the kind of notoriety, all that... there’s a little bit of cynicism after a while. You don’t seem to suffer from that.”
“Because of days like today,” I said. “Meeting young women like Mia... it keeps me... I don’t wanna say grounded, but it keeps why I do this at the front of my mind. I’ve been her, and if I’d had a “Noah” to look up to, I could’ve saved myself the pain of so many mistakes.”
“But would you be “Noah” if you hadn’t made them?”
I turned to him, and couldn’t resist mirroring the slow smile that spread across his face. “I guess that’s a fair point.”
At that moment, the server brought the salad I’d ordered, topped with a thick piece of seared salmon. I was still staring at the plate – about two times the size I’d expected the dish to be – when he walked away.
“Are you sure you aren’t hungry? Because there is more than enough to share.” I asked Nick, who was starting to look increasingly sleepy. He immediately perked up when I spoke though, chuckling a bit as he nodded.
“Yeah, I’m good. But, thank you for offering.”
While I ate, he turned his attention to the band, probably to avoid the awkwardness of simply watching me. Like clockwork though, every minute or so he would glance at me, as if he were checking to make sure I was okay. Gradually those checks got fewer and further between.
“Hey,” I said, touching his shoulder. “You’re getting a little quiet on me.
Are we good?”
He turned to me, with noticeably heavy eyelids. “Absolutely. I was letting you enjoy your meal. I figured we’d get back to it after.”
“Are you going to get a little nap in first?” I teased, but he didn’t smile. Instead, he pushed out a heavy – exhausted – sigh.
“I’m going to grab the server, see if I can get some coffee.”
“Wow. Is my company that dull that you need a caffeine boost to stay awake?”
That got his eyes open. “What? No. Not at all, I... shit.” He lifted his hands, scrubbing them over his face in frustration, and I slid away, just a little. Halfway falling asleep wasn’t exactly great date etiquette, but he’d already mentioned being tired, so it wasn’t out of the blue. He seemed to be a lot more bothered by it than I was.
“Nick, I’m joking with you,” I said, in a tone I hoped was soothing. “I’m not tripping about this.”
He sat back, with another heavy sigh, eyes pointed up at the ceiling before they drifted closed again, as if he simply couldn’t help it.
“Seriously though, are you okay? Do you need to go?”
Opening his eyes, he looked longingly at me, then shook his head. “I don’t want to, but I probably should.”
I knew already, but I didn’t expect it to make me feel sad. “Well, it was nice getting to talk with you again. I’m in LA at least three or four times a year, so maybe we can link up again then,” I said, and meant it.
“Yeah,” he said, and didn’t mean it. I could tell from the defeat in his voice he thought I was just being nice. I understood why he would think so – this “makeup” date had started well, but landed far away from a success. Maybe he was right to think so. Maybe this was all it was ever meant to be.
He flagged down the server to pay the check, and didn’t say much else. I pulled up my app to order a car for the ride back to the hotel, but held off on completing it because it felt weird to leave it like this. While we waited for the server to return Nick’s card, I snuck glances at his face. The more I watched him – the stiffness of his movement, the way he cringed just reaching for his water... something occurred to me.
“Nick, you aren’t just sleepy, are you?”
Our gazes caught, and held, and he ran his tongue over his lips as he sat back. I waited for several seconds, so long I wasn’t sure he planned to answer, but then he shook his head.
“No.”
“So, what then?” I pressed, turning my whole body in his direction to give him my undivided attention. “Did you get beat up?”
“What? Hell no.”
“Sun sickness? Migraine? Concussion?”
“No.”
“Are you high?”
“No,” he said, sitting up. “Noah...” he glanced around us, nodding at the server as he put the black payment envelope back down on the table, and left. “I have sickle cell disease.”
My head drew back. “You’re having a flare up? You’re in crisis?!”
His eyes went wide in surprise at my questions, but then some of the obvious tension he was holding in his shoulders melted away. Relief.
“You’re familiar?”
I nodded. “Yeah. My sophomore year roommate. I would pick work up from her professors sometimes when she had flare ups... when she was able to stay in our room.”
His hands went up in front of him. “I’m not about to pass out or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. The initial flare up was weeks ago, I’m just still in the aftermath.”
“You’re hurting though, aren’t you?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It is. Nick, I know it is,” I insisted. “Lingering pain in your joints, and in your bones. And you came to the event today, and then back out tonight, and I... what’s your address?”
Nick frowned. “Huh?”
“Your address? You didn’t drive, did you? I’m ordering a car, and I want to make sure you get home okay, after I dragged you out when you weren’t feeling well.”
“Noah. Please relax. I’m good. I’d already taken something for the pain when you texted, it kicked in on me while we were sitting here, so I’m fighting the drowsiness. If it wasn’t for that, there wouldn’t be an issue.”
I huffed. “Okay, so what happens when your uber driver robs you because you’re passed out in a dead sleep, and like, leaves you in a ditch or something?”
“That is really dark.”
“Sorry. But, seriously what’s the address?”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“I’m positive you already know the answer to that.”
Nick pushed out a sigh, and then gave me the address, which I quickly plugged into my phone.
“Hey, actually, hold up, use mine,” he said, whipping his phone from the inside pocket of his blazer.
“Too late. Car is on the way. Besides, you paid for my dinner.”
“Because I asked you out.”
“But you didn’t eat anything,” I argued. “You were basically keeping me company while I ate.”
“Irrelevant. A man asks you out, he should pay.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “How heteronormative of you.”
Nick sucked his teeth. “Nah, now. That goes for anybody, gay, straight, whatever. The man that asks is the man that pays.”
“What about two lesbians Nick, huh?” he opened his mouth to answer, but I held up a hand. “Wait – two femme lesbians? Or a throuple? Or a group situation?”
He narrowed his eyes for a moment as he thought about it, then sat back. “Ah, damn. I’ll give you this round, Ms. Inclusive Language.”
“I don’t want to win, I want you to adjust your thinking.”
His lips turned downward for a second, considering it, and then he nodded. “I can do that.”
“Uhhh...” I pulled my eyebrows together in a frown. “Seriously? Just like that? That easily? No arguing about a man’s place, how a woman should play her position...”
Nick leaned forward. “Okay, don’t get it twisted – I do think if you ask someone out, you should pay for it. That stands. But it doesn’t cost me a damn thing to broaden my horizons, or consider a different point of view. Back to that whole constantly evolving thing, right?”
I bit down on my lip to keep myself from making an audible sound of pleasure before I nodded. “Um, the car is here.”
Without waiting for him to move, I stood, smoothing the wrinkles in my dress before I looked up to find him in the exact same position, his gaze intently focused on me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, moving around the table to get in front of him. “Do you need help getting up?”
He chuckled, and then – laboriously – pulled himself up, reminding me of our height differential when I had to tip my head back to look him in the face. “I was taking a moment to admire the view.”
“Seriously? Not even two minutes ago you were barely keeping your eyes open, but you can still manage to flirt?”
“I can always manage to flirt with you Noah.”
“Uh huh. I see.”
In the car, things grew quiet again, and I was purposeful about letting them stay that way. I felt a prick of guilt about making him work so hard to make up our cancelled date, now that I knew about his condition. But knowing he’d pushed himself this way greatly elevated my opinion of him.
Not that I felt like a man had to push through chronic pain to impress me, but having this information changed things. For example – had a flare up been the reason for the initial cancellation?
At his place, we went back and forth about me helping him inside. Clearly, he wasn’t very into the idea of being fussed over, but I wasn’t into the idea of leaving without making sure he was settled, so I insisted.
He opened his front door and then stepped aside for me to come in. “So, you’ve seen me inside. Are you satisfied now?” he asked, lingering in the doorframe.
“I’ll be satisfied when you’re resting.”
“Fine. That’s ex
actly what I plan on doing,” he said, still not moving.
My eyes went from him to the still-open door. “Is this your way of rushing me off? Letting me know I’m not welcome?”
“Huh?”
“The door... you’re standing there like you’re waiting to close it behind me when I leave. I would’ve had the driver wait if I’d known.”
Nick shook his head. “No, I’m not rushing you off, not at all. I thought you were just being nice, not that you’d want to chill. I didn’t think you’d be that comfortable?”
“Comfortable?”
“Yeah. Around me, in my place, alone...”
“Oh.” I glanced around me, taking in his living space. Small, but airy, and neater than Sam’s – or any other man I’d dated – place had ever been. It was minimalist without being sparse, and somehow, felt very... Nick.
Not that I could explain what that meant.
“I think we’re pretty well past being uncomfortable around each other, right?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, we’ve been on two dates, you’ve observed me doing my most important work, and you’ve kissed me – with tongue. So...”
He grinned, and pushed the door closed. “I guess you have a point there. Do you want something to drink?”
“I want you to sit down, and I can get my own drink.”
“Not happening. Take a seat,” he told me, gesturing toward the couch before he disappeared into another part of the apartment. Instead of arguing, I took the opportunity to get off my feet, groaning a little as I sank into the blissful comfort of Nick’s couch. I’d talked about him needing to rest, but truthfully, so did I.
It had been a long day, and I was on my feet for quite a bit of it. And as much as I loved interacting with, talking with those women, that didn’t change the reality that it took a toll on me.
I was tired.
And a little bit jealous, when Nick came back into the room in sweats and a tee shirt instead of what he’d worn on our date, carrying two bottles of water.
“Sorry if that took a long time,” he said, gingerly taking a seat beside me. I cringed as pain played over his face, only letting up once he’d sank backwards and propped his feet up on the ottoman. “I’m moving a little slower than I’d like.”
Relationship Goals Page 6
