by Nicole Falls
“Nervous?” he asked, his voice a low rumble seemed to travel through my entire body.
I couldn’t find my voice to respond, so I just moved my hands in a so-so motion. My face felt like it was on fire as we stood there for a few minutes more in silence. Reese’s penetrating stare forcing eye contact with me before I lowered my head to look away. Using the index finger of his right hand, Reese lifted my chin so that we were making eye contact once again.
“Do you mind if…no scratch that…may I kiss you?” he asked.
I nodded my assent and his head quickly lowered toward mine. Instead of immediately connecting our mouths, Reese used the finger beneath my chin to tilt my head at an angle he preferred before diving in. The first touch of our lips was tentative, a light brushing before he applied more pressure. His hands moved from cradling my face down to my hips as he nipped my bottom lip with his teeth, then soothed the sting of his bite with a swipe of his tongue. That was all I needed to spur me into action as I opened my mouth and invited him inside. Our tongues tangled immediately, eliciting a low moan from me as his took over, stroking every corner of my mouth. Eventually, he pulled back slowly from the kiss as we both needed the space to breathe.
On a deep inhalation, I opened my eyes to see him staring at me with a hint of mischief in his gaze. A slow smile spread across Reese’s face as I swiped my tongue over my bottom lip, hoping to catch any faint traces of his taste that were left. I know this had to be Stacie’s doing somehow…I probably won’t ever be able to prove it and quite frankly, I didn’t give a damn about that fact. I’d just experienced a solid five minutes of bliss and immediately wanted more. That emotion must have been portrayed in my gaze as Reese grabbed my hips once more and pulled me in close. I lifted my arms to drape over his shoulders, hands clasping behind the back of his neck.
“One more?”
I nodded and softly replied, “One more.”
SECOND TIME AROUND
“And when I die, you have to promise that we’ll have the funeral here,” Alyssa said, suddenly.
Glaring at his wife across the table, Greg exclaimed, “WHAT?!”
“When. I. Die. Funeral. Here.” she said, gesturing to their spooky surroundings.
Smiling, Greg could do nothing more than shake his head. First she talked him into investing in this dilapidated house and turning it into a haunted mansion. Now she was talking about being buried here. Never mind the fact that she was a vivacious 37 year old with no health issues to speak of, she was already planning her funeral. As macabre as she could be, Greg loved his wife beyond all measure.
“Sure babe, whatever you say…”
Looking at the woman sitting across from him, Greg couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Here he was on another of many blind dates lined up for this week. His friends were constantly trying to set him up with women they knew. His brother Geoff’s wife Cadence was always trying to set him up with her single girlfriends. The most heinous offender of the matchmaking crime was his mother. Since his brother’s nuptials six months ago, she had been on a mission to get him married off. No one understood the fact that he had been there, done that, and was not ready to jump into a relationship with anyone just yet. Well not anyone, but…
It had been three years since he lost the love of his life, Alyssa, in a car accident. She had stolen his heart from the moment she marched into his party supply store in August looking for Halloween decorations. It took him forever to build up the courage to finally ask her out, but when he did, sparks flew immediately. Their courtship was quick, by most people’s standards, but it seemed too slow to Greg and Alyssa.
Everyone kept telling him that he needed to get back in the dating pool, but he just wasn’t that interested in any of these women that they continued to set him up with. Clearly his disinterest did not deter them, which is how he ended up here with…shit…what is her name? he thought. Regina was Monday. Francesca was Wednesday. Or was this Francesca and Wednesday was someone else? All of these women were running together. None of them came close to being anything like Alyssa.
“Greg?” the woman said, a question in her tone.
“I’m sorry, what’s that? I zoned out for a second,” he asked.
“The waiter asked if we were having another drink or dessert,” she responded a bit gruffly as the waiter stood there with an expectant look on his face.
Greg apologetically waved the man away, asking for the check instead. The waiter’s return with the check was swift, much to Greg’s relief. He slid a card into the small booklet that held the check without looking at the check nor its total. He was ready to be done with this date and this woman. She was a nonstop chatterbox, never once asking him about himself or his interests, instead content to prattle on about her interests which were few in nature—her cat, its kittens, and her knitting circle. There were only so many stories Greg could stand to listen to about Meowncé and her brood. Glancing at his phone as they walked out of the restaurant, Greg realized today was Friday and this was Clara, a date his mother set him up with from her church.
“It was a pl…good seeing you, Clara,” Greg said, affably, walking her to her car and opening the door.
She pressed herself a bit closer to him, ignoring the door and angling her face closer to his for a kiss. Greg dodged her lips, while using an elbow to guide her into her car and shut the door behind her. Clara mugged him as she started the car and swiftly pulled off, barely giving him a chance to step back after closing the door safely behind her.
Greg chuckled to himself on the walk back to his car. He vowed to not agree to any more dates that his mother tried to set him up on, no matter how guilty she made him feel at their weekly family dinners. He didn’t know how many more of these awkward interactions he could take. The memory of Alyssa and his time together would forever be in a special place in his heart, but he was finally ready to agree with his folks, it was time for him to begin again.
The only problem was the only woman he found himself interested in was in the very same place he himself was in about eighteen months ago. She was grieving the loss of her husband something terribly and nowhere near ready to jump into anything new. Their meeting was completely by chance, but Greg could not seem to get his mind off of her in a romantic sense no matter how hard he tried. He knew it was pointless—going on these awful dates that his family set up for him when the only woman he desired had succinctly placed him in the friend zone.
But he was willing to wait. Bide his time, let her get past her grief and see that the possibility for love again was out there if she only allowed herself the chance to fall. Even if it wasn’t with him, he wanted her to be happy. She was too young, vibrant, and fucking gorgeous to live a life of solitude until the end of her days. Tracee’s presence was a present, as cliché as it sounded. She had a wicked sense of humor that Greg got pleasure from every time they conversed. Their friendship blossomed out of shared commiseration, but persisted through a strong bond based on similar interests, political ideologies, and alcoholic beverages.
Before Tracee, Greg had never met a woman who enjoyed a good scotch and knew even more than he did about the regions in which they were distilled. Their first interaction had been a result of a muttered uttering about needing a glass of Balvenie during a brief break session in their grief-counseling group. Greg’ s ears perked up at the mention of one of his favorite brands of scotch and engaged Tracee in conversation. She explained to him about her mentor whose parents were from Scotland and taught him the value of a great Scotch whisky. The group soon resumed after Tracee shared that information, but at every meeting going forward Greg and Tracee sought each other out at break time to chat about various sundry topics. After a few weeks of this, Tracee— who had had a particularly rough time in the session that day—suggested they get together at a local pub with a sizeable Scotch collection and continue their break time chat. From that point on, they were pretty much inseparable.
Greg couldn’t wait to tell Trace about t
his latest dud of a date. She found so much humor in the fact that his folks refused to give it up regarding finding him another wife. It had become a regular tradition of Greg calling Tracee post-date and telling her about the woman of the hour. Without fail, there was always some very unique quality about the women on these dates. His family knew that Alyssa was eclectic with a grand personality and often tried to set him up with women who were similar. They were always just off the mark, however, because these women weren’t just eclectic, they were straight up weird. There was the woman who only ate foods that were white—she claimed all others were filled with artificial colors that the government was using to control our minds. Tonight’s date was the mama of a cat who just had kittens that she talked about incessantly for over half the date. Even though he would be seeing her tomorrow, Greg couldn’t resist texting Tracee to tell her about tonight’s date. Peering at his clock, he saw it was just past ten pm. He hoped she wasn’t already asleep, in preparation for their big day tomorrow.
***
Tracee’s phone chimed, waking her from an unplanned nap. She stretched her limbs carefully; neck sore from falling asleep on her sofa. She was supposed to be watching the latest Netflix original show that had gotten so much buzz, but it ended up watching her instead. After a few rotations of her head to clear the crick in her neck, she moved to retrieve her phone.
Another date, another dud. – G$
Laughing, she quickly texted back.
What was the deal with this one? A bit long in the tooth? She managed to be looking both east and west at the same time?
Instead of a text response, Tracee was surprised when her phone rang.
“Trace, she had a cat named Meowncé,” Greg deadpanned in lieu of a greeting.
“Wait…what?”
“And the cat recently had three kittens that she calls Russian Blue Ivy and the Twins. . .”
Unable to contain her amusement any longer, Tracee burst into a high-pitched squeal of laughter. Tracee and Greg had been widowed for two and three years, respectively. Both had come to the group seeking solace in commiserating with likeminded individuals. After Tracee joined the group, she and Greg bonded immediately, both possessing similar senses of humor and taste in music.
“Wait…she spent how long talking about the feline Destiny’s Child on this date?”
“Enough time for me to know that one of the twins is a bit sassy when she doesn’t get her turn with the catnip when she wants it. What the hell is catnip anyway?”
Tracee laughed, “I honestly have no idea, G. Whose fault is this one?”
“Moms,” Greg sighed, “I think I’m gonna have to put my foot down. I didn’t tell you the worst part.”
“Wait there’s something worse than naming a cat after the greatest living entertainer of my generation?”
“Your generation?”
“Yeah, old man…you’re aged out,” Tracee laughed, teasing Greg about their age difference. She was in her last year of her twenties, while he was in his mid-thirties. The different was slight, but she loved ribbing him about being an old man.
“Cute,” Greg chuckled, “Anyway…so she was super oblivious to there being zero chemistry between us because she definitely went in for the kiss at the end of the date.”
“No!”
“Yes, looking like a damn puffer fish as she pursed her lips and moved in. I almost felt bad for curving her…”
“Not bad enough to…”
“Hell no! Anyway, enough about my horrible night. You ready for tomorrow?”
“I never said okay to…” Tracee started, before being interrupted by Greg.
“Bullshit. You would have never brought it up if you didn’t want to do it. So we’re signed up to go. And I paid good money for this too, so…we’re going. Now I know I’m second fiddle to who you really want to be there, but tough titty…you’re stuck with me. So, I’ll be by to get you at six?”
Tracee heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Fine, I’ll be ready.”
“Good. I won’t keep you much longer, so you can get back to your rest. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
“Actually, can we make it five-thirty? I want to make a stop along the way if that’s okay with you?”
“It’s your world, squirrel…” Greg crooned, which made Tracee giggle once again, “See you in the morning.”
“Til then,” Tracee replied, pressing the button to end the call.
Tracee awakened the next morning, anxious for what the day would bring. An offhand comment in conversation with Greg led to him buying them tickets to an event she had been avoiding for the past two years. It was something that she and Roderick had planned to do together, but never got the chance to. Both of them were obsessed with the now defunct game show Wipeout. About six months before his untimely death, Rod had found out about a race that was set up like the Wipeout course. He’d immediately signed them up, only to have his life taken a mere three days before the race. In the two years since he’d passed, Tracee had signed up for the random obstacle race, hoping to find the strength to actually show up and do it in his honor, but every year she never quite made it to the course.
Greg had convinced her to follow through with it this year, pledging to be by her side for the length of the race, offering support as needed. Tracee couldn’t help but smile as she thought about Greg’s excitement for the race as well. He hadn’t watched Wipeout, but was game as soon as Tracee explained the obstacle course to him. She showered and dressed for the day quickly, wanting to take a bit of time to steel herself for the stop she’d asked Greg to build into their commute to the race.
Today would be the first time she visited Rod’s grave since the memorial service. She finally felt ready. She hadn’t mentioned to Greg where their stop would be, but she knew that he would be supportive and that was the kind of energy she needed. From their first encounter, Tracee felt a sense of security when she was around Greg. He made her feel safe and impenetrable to any harm that may try to come her way. She hadn’t felt this way since the first time she and Roderick were together. And, honestly? It had thrown her for a loop.
The feelings that she held for Greg lately were more than platonic, but she knew he didn’t see her in that way. She was grateful for the friendship and support, though, so she would never do anything to jeopardize that. Greg was a welcomed shift, a breath of fresh air in her life. Though the circumstances under which they had met were not optimal, she was eternally grateful for his presence in her life right now.
Tracee’s doorbell rang at about five twenty that morning. She smiled, knowing that it was Greg who felt that being on time was late and never hesitated to show up ten to fifteen minutes before their agreed upon meeting time. She opened the door and immediately burst into laughter at the sight of him. He was clad in a bright neon shirt, with joggers to match. His shirt said, “If lost or broken, please return to TraceFace”.
“Good morning,” he said, smiling and moving past Tracee to enter her home.
Her giggles subsided long enough for her to return his greeting and inquire about his wardrobe. He informed her that because they were on two different levels of athleticism, he wanted to be easily identifiable if she had to reclaim him at the end of the race.
“And you couldn’t do that in normal colored clothing?” Tracee asked.
“Nope…and neither will you,” Greg responded, holding out a t-shirt in an equally retina burning neon pink with the words “I am TraceFace” inscribed on the front of it.
Laughing, she accepted the garment and went back to exchange the shirt that she was currently wearing for it. When she emerged again, Greg stood in her living room with a different sort of smile covering his face. They stood, gaping at one another for a moment or two before Tracee broke the spell, saying that they should get going so she could make her stop.
In the car she explained to Greg where she needed to go and he guided the car in the direction of the graveyard, which was minutes from the park where
the race would be taking place. Turning into the cemetery, Greg felt the shift in the air. He knew that Tracee was anxious as she was fidgeting with her fingers, bending and flexing them as if she were counting something. She guided Greg through the cemetery, instructing him on the turns to take to get to where her husband was buried. When they reached the site of Roderick’s final resting place, Greg remained in the car while Tracee knelt at the tombstone. He hadn’t wanted to intrude; as he knew this was the first time she had visited the gravesite, but when he saw her shoulders begin to shake as she caressed the headstone, Greg immediately jumped from the car to gather her in his arms.
Hearing Tracee’s sobs tugged at him to the very core, knowing she was in pain and he was powerless to heal it. So he just continued to hold her, whispering words of comfort and rubbing his hand in large circles on her back until her tears subsided. Once she had regained her composure, Greg kept his arms wrapped around her and walked her back to his car.
“We don’t have to do this today, you know? If it’s too much we can…” he started before Tracee cut him off.
“No, I have to do this today, G,” she said, wiping her face.
“We could always catch it next year.”
“I’m fine. I’m good. Let’s…come on, I don’t wanna be late and get stuck at the back of our corral,” she said, pulling down the mirror on the passenger side to study her face. A few swipes of her hands to erase the tear tracks on her cheeks and a quick reapplication of lip gloss was all she needed to get back to normal, Tracee thought.
“If you’re sure…”
“I am.”
Greg put the car in gear and headed toward Millennium Park. The closer they got, the more large inflatable obstacles they saw and he once again felt the energy in the car shift. He glanced over to see Tracee smiling so hard that it looked like her face was about to split open. She was buzzing with excitement and Greg thought he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. He was grateful to be the one to put that smile on her face and hoped to keep it there for years to come.
