“Wow, for a brief second I almost thought you had a dark side,” I said playfully.
“Perhaps I do,” he replied with a smile as we climbed out of his vehicle. We walked to the front door of the building. “I’ve always been fond of that streetlight right there,” he said pointing to one of the exterior lights attached to the building. “Do you like it?”
I knew he was referring to the spot where I had kissed him just a week prior.
“That was my dark side,” I said with a wink.
As he opened up the door and turned on the lights, I noticed a small bistro table set up in the middle of the entryway. It was fully set for two. There was a dark red table cloth on it, along with place settings and a mason jar with a candle in it. Conveniently, there were matches right beside it.
“What’s all this?” I asked curiously.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing for me to sit down at the table. “I only need three or four minutes. Mallory picked out that wine, so I’m guessing it’s a kind you like.” He smiled at me and headed back behind the counter into the kitchen area. I could see the muscles through his shirt as he walked, and I really enjoyed looking at him.
I was a little surprised he mentioned Mallory’s name. Just a week ago she was talking me out of my interest in Ben. Now here she was helping him facilitate what was turning out to be a pretty amazing first date. As predictable as Mallory was, she occasionally surprised me. That was something I really loved about her.
Just as Ben promised, he returned from the kitchen a few minutes later carrying two plates of food. It smelled amazing.
“So you’re a good cook?” I asked as he set a plate down in front of me. There was chicken carbonara, roasted vegetables, and some seasoned bread.
“No,” he responded, shaking his head. “Greyson made all of this earlier before he left for the night. I just reheated it.” He sat down across from me and unfolded his napkin. “Sometimes I help him out around here, but I don’t really do much of the actual cooking.”
“What do you do? I should probably know some more about you,” I said tilting my head. “I know you live with Greyson, but that’s the only thing I know. Aside from you volunteering to change the world,” I added, referencing our earlier activity.
“That doesn’t scare you off? That I’m twenty-seven and I have a roommate?” he asked skeptically. “I’ve been told by other women that’s a ‘red flag,' whatever that means.” He had a boyish, carefree smile and the dimples in his cheeks made him look so innocent.
“It’s not a red flag per se, depending on your reason,” I answered honestly. “Is the next part of that ‘because I don’t have a job?’ Because then yes, I can see how that scares women off.” I took a bite of food and it tasted even better than its aroma suggested.
“I do have a job,” he said, also eating his food. “But it’s kind of temporary for the time being. So Greyson’s kind of just helping me out. He knows about my situation, so he’s been really generous letting me stay at his place for the time being. He won’t even take a portion of the rent for it. That’s why I try to help him out here when I can, just to earn my keep. But once things change for me, well…” His voice trailed off, and I wasn’t sure why he was holding back.
“Are you going to give me any more details?” I asked, taking a sip of wine. “Sounds a little vague.” I studied his handsome face for a moment. Clearly he had some secrets. No guy this good looking could still possibly be single if he didn’t have some kind of drama in his life. He had to have a downside.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be vague. It’s just not that interesting, really. I basically work in healthcare. Nights, actually, so my schedule is a little erratic. That’s it. Kind of a boring story,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m waiting for a different opportunity to come along. It’s not the right time yet, that’s all.”
I stared at him as he spoke, but I still couldn’t read him. I mean sure, maybe his story wasn’t that interesting. Maybe he was embarrassed by it. But I still felt like he was holding back on me a little bit.
“Greyson said you’re in marketing, right?” Ben asked, interrupting my thoughts. “Let’s talk about you.”
“Well, I guess in the grand scheme of things my work isn’t that interesting either. I do work for a marketing firm. PR stuff mostly. And then other than that I volunteer at the shelter a couple days a week, as you know. It’s one of my favorite things to do, I look forward to it every week. I like to run too. I’m training for a half-marathon next month. That pretty much sums me up.”
“Can I ask you a blunt question?” he asked, eyeing me curiously.
I nodded, taking another sip of wine.
“Why do our friends not want us to do this?” he asked, raising his hands. “It’s like they’re warning us to stay away from each other. Any idea what that’s about?”
“What exactly have they told you?” I asked, studying him as he sat across from me. The more time I spent around him, the more attractive he became to me. Usually it was the opposite for me, so I was quite intrigued by this situation.
“Well, I don’t recall the specific phrasing. But I do believe the words “pain” and “regret” were in there somewhere. What exactly do you plan on doing to me?” He had a boyish grin on his face as he spoke.
“Nothing painful. And definitely nothing you’d regret,” I responded playfully. “Mallory and Greyson pretty much said the opposite about you.”
“Yeah? That I’m a wuss and you’ll never even remember the time we share together?” he teased.
“No,” I replied with a giggle. “Just that you’re too nice for me and that now isn’t the right time for you. Whatever that means.”
“Well, that last part may have some truth to it,” he answered honestly.
“Are you just coming off of a bad break-up or something?” I inquired.
“No, nothing like that. I don’t really date much. Working nights doesn’t really accommodate it. And honestly, I just don’t feel like I’m at a place in my life where I could be devoted to someone in a serious relationship. Like I said, I feel like I’m in somewhat of a temporary situation right now. My living situation, my career. I’m kind of waiting for something to happen.”
“Well, I don’t believe in waiting for things to happen,” I said directly. “You have to make things happen.”
The loud ring from his cell phone startled me in that moment, and it caught both of us off guard.
“I’m so sorry, Megan. I really do have to get this,” he said as he checked the number on the screen. “I know this is horrifically rude, but it’s work.”
He stood up quickly from the table and answered the phone, walking into another room as he spoke.
Well that was terrible timing.
I sat there for a couple minutes, finishing up the rest of my food and polishing off the rest of the wine in my glass. I definitely needed more information from Mallory about this guy. There was certainly more going on with him, as if he wasn’t telling me something. I mean, he was into me, right? Maybe I was misreading him?
“I’m so sorry, Megan, but I have to go,” he said frantically, walking back into the lobby area where we were sitting.
“Oh, okay. Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, it’s work,” he repeated, as if I knew what that truly meant. “Can I, oh, I should clean this up. I mean I’ll have to do it later. I have to go. Can I call you? I mean not tonight, but tomorrow? Do I even have your phone number? I’m going, I have to go.” He was rambling and seemed to struggle with forming a rational sentence.
“Sure, yeah, I understand,” I uttered, still uncertain as to what the emergency was. “I’ll clean this up, don’t worry about it. I guess you can just give me the key so I can lock up when I’m finished. I’ll give it back to Mallory tomorrow.”
His hands were shaking as he slid a silver key off his key ring.
“I… So, thank you,” he said as he bent down and awkwardly
kissed my cheek. Without another word, he walked swiftly past me out the front door and got into his car.
Oh no. Did he just get a parachute call to get out of the date? You know, that fake call you set up ahead of time with a friend, in case you need some help or an excuse to get out of a date gone wrong. I’m the bad date his friend is getting him out of? Sure, I had to do that to plenty of guys before, but only because things were going so poorly that I couldn’t possibly finish the date. Or on rare occasion I was actually concerned about my safety because the guy seemed bat shit crazy. But this guy was doing it to me? My world felt completely off of it’s axis. All the dates I had ever been on, and not a single one had bailed on me half way through. My mind raced, and I felt completely out of sorts.
I knew there was only one place I could go.
CHAPTER 8
“Megan?” Steve said with a confused expression on his face as he slowly opened his apartment door. He looked relaxed in a pair of soft gray pants and a fitted dark blue t-shirt.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, hoping he wouldn’t close the door on me. “I know you’re still mad at me and you’re not returning my calls, but I hate this. I screwed up, and I know I was awful to you. I don’t know what that was even about the other night, but I just wanted to say I’m so tremendously sorry for all of it. I was a terrible friend and I know it. Oh, and I brought you a groveling gift so you’ll forgive me,” I added, holding up a twelve-pack of Guinness. I flashed a genuine smile at him, hoping he would know how sincere I was.
“I’ve never turned away a girl who was offering me beer,” he said hesitantly. His mouth slowly turned up into a smile. “But are you wearing running shoes? On a Saturday night? Are you coming to warn me of the world’s end?” he said with a smirk.
“The world may as well be over,” I responded dryly. “I think a guy just dumped me half way through our first date.”
“Isn’t that your move? Don’t you do that to people all the time?” he asked, motioning for me to come in.
“Yeah, but it’s never happened to me before. I’m so mortified right now.”
“Don’t you have some girlfriends you should be talking to about this?” he asked, taking the beer out of my hands. He opened two of them, handing one to me. We made our way into his living room.
“I can’t talk to the girls about this. They’ll ask me how I feel about everything. I don’t have any feelings about this,” I said, making myself comfortable on his couch.
“Clearly,” he muttered. “So you’re here to not talk about this?”
“No, I just… I just want some mindless conversation,” I replied.
“Well I’m glad I’m your guy for that,” he answered sarcastically.
“You know what I mean. We can just hang out without having to discuss my feelings or whatever. We can just relax, and watch… whatever this is,” I stated, motioning towards his TV.
“This would be the very end of the college football game I was watching. Alone. In serene, wonderful silence,” he said in a mocking tone. “There are only a few minutes left. I paused it when I heard the knock. Can I really turn this back on without us having to talk?”
“Well can I just get a guy’s perspective on this?” I said, curling up my legs in front of me on the couch. Steve sat down beside me, and I felt bad about interrupting his game but I really needed to talk. He was one of the few people I could always count on for an honest opinion.
He shook his head and slugged down his beer. “Can we make this therapy session quick? You know I’m not good at this type of thing,” he said with a shrug.
“Well, I just have one question, really. What would make you leave in the middle of a date? Boring conversation? Offensive language? Small boobs? A better offer for a date with a prettier girl who called in while you were eating dinner?” I stared at him for an answer.
“Small boobs? Really, Meg? You think he left your date because of that? Or a prettier girl called?” he said with a boyish grin.
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly.
“Well I do know one thing. Any man would take what’s in front of him over just the ‘possibility’ of a better offer,” he said, sitting back against the couch cushions. “No man in his right mind would just leave a beautiful girl like you, small boob size and all, just sitting there all alone for no good reason. I am sure of that.”
He spoke confidently, as if what he was saying was a fundamental truth. However, I still disagreed with that. Men left beautiful women all the time.
“Oh no, I’ve got it,” he responded with a serious tone. “It’s your running shoes. Your basic feminine principals forbid you from wearing running shoes on a Saturday night, is that correct?”
I nodded, a little confused by what he was saying.
“So that’s it. The site of you in running shoes. No stilettos, then no point in sticking out the date,” he explained. “It’s science.”
“Shut up,” I said, throwing a pillow at him. “We played soccer, so I had to wear these.”
“Oh no, that’s worse. So he witnessed your limited athleticism? That’s a deal breaker, Meg,” he replied, still mocking me. "You kind of leap when you run. I mean you have the endurance, sure. But your form is a little unusual. It's kind of odd to watch. You know that, right? It's not a natural, graceful looking run."
“This conversation is over. I would rather talk about feelings with Mallory than listen to your smart mouth,” I said, motioning towards the remote. “Turn the game on.”
“I knew I could get out of having girl talk with you,” he said, pushing play on the remote.
We sipped on our drinks and I pretended to be interested in the game, but my head was still replaying my date with Ben over and over. What went so wrong?
“It would really have to be something big and personal for you to just walk out on the middle of a date, right?” I asked with a sincere tone in my voice.
“So apparently we are still going to talk about it,” he replied quietly, turning down the volume on the TV. “What exactly happened?”
I recounted the entire night to him. I explained how much fun the soccer game was, and how sweet the planned dinner was. But then one phone call and he’s walking out on me without an explanation?
“I just feel so stupid. This is so embarrassing. I feel like I got dumped in public,” I said, shaking my head. “Oh my gosh, it’s like when that girl dumped you in front of the whole school in tenth grade,” I recalled, almost spilling my beer as I thought of that memory.
“I’m not sure we need to bring that up,” he responded, leaning his head down bashfully.
“What was that girl’s name? Christina something… Christina Johnson!” I blurted out. Steve smirked, and I could tell he was at least a little amused by the recollection.
“Yeah, she dumped me in her student council speech at the school assembly. At least you’ve never been dumped over a microphone before. Your night could’ve been worse,” he teased.
“Why did she dump you? I can’t even remember,” I said, still trying to recall what had even happened.
“Really? You don’t remember how that went down?” he asked with a suspicious expression on his face. “Or you just want me to say it all out loud because you know it will make you feel better about what’s-his-name walking out on you?”
I shook my head. I really couldn’t remember the specifics.
“Remember that night at McAllister’s party? His parents were out of town?”
“You threw me over the fence! Yes I remember, that’s how I got this scar,” I said, pointing to a small white line on the front of my shin.
“Right, the cops showed up and we were all drinking, so everyone went over the fence through the trees. I saved your ass that night by the way. You wouldn’t have cleared that fence without my help,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Thank you sir,” I replied with an exaggerated head bow.
“Well earlier that night, there were a couple other guys from t
he football team, a few girls… I can’t remember who all was there. We were playing Truth or Dare, and of course I had a girlfriend, Christina, so I couldn’t choose dare because I knew my idiot friends would make me do something stupid. So I chose Truth.”
I felt like this was the first time I had ever heard this story. Steve and I had been friends for so long, since our freshman year of high school, so it always seemed like I knew everything about him. A new, unfamiliar story was a rarity for us. I knew about the fallout, but I guess I never really knew the whole series of events leading up to the dreaded student council speech.
“So Brady, that guy was a jerk, he asked me if I could pick just one girl at Mountain Ridge High, who would it be? And like an idiot, instead of saying my girlfriend’s name, I confessed to being crazy about a girl in my homeroom class. I don’t even know what happened, but those words just fell out of my mouth. Naturally, one of the girls in the room happened to be friends with my girlfriend, and she told her what happened. Hence the angry student council speech the following Monday. It wasn’t one of my finer moments, that’s for sure.”
“Wait, tenth grade homeroom? I was in that class. Which girl was it?” I asked, wracking my brain for possibilities. “That Rachel girl? She was so weird, but I know all of the guys were obsessed with her cleavage. Oh, Kate Harrow? Who else was in that class?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Steve replied, getting up to grab more beer.
“If you had a crush on someone, I would’ve known,” I said, still perplexed.
“Well maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” he said with a boyish expression. “It doesn’t matter now anyway, obviously. She clearly wasn’t interested in me, hence why nothing ever came of it.”
“I’m kind of scared to ask, but what happened with Leah the other night after the grand opening party? I hope I didn’t mess that up,” I said sincerely. Once sober, I told myself over and over that my reaction that night had nothing to do with jealousy over Steve with another girl. My heart ached about it though, and I knew either way what happened was completely immature and wrong on my part. They didn’t deserve any of it.
Six Reasons Page 4
