by K. P. Haigh
My mind is running through every single option on the table here: goodbye hug, fist bump, taco emoji followed by heart eyes smiley face? Nothing feels quite right.
Maybe because I'm not quite ready for this to be over.
"Did you park close by?" I ask, trying to draw the encounter out.
"Yeah, just a few blocks down."
"I'll walk with you."
Baron smiles. "Okay."
We take a few steps back in the direction of the shelter, and I realize I don't have a game plan past asking to walk him back to his car. What was I planning to do with my extra three minutes of Baron Richards’ time? Ask him about his plans for the night? Give him a goodbye kiss? Umm, no. I'm working on fanning the flame of my adventurous side, not setting it on fire.
"The weather's really nice out today." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to kick myself. Really? You revert to talking about the weather?
"Yeah, I was trying to convince my sister to play hooky with me and go out to Lake Michigan for a day, but she wasn't having it. I guess she actually likes her job." I love that Baron just took my awful start and actually went somewhere with it. I also love that he appreciates a good day off at the lake. Apparently he's been in Michigan long enough for us to wear off on him; any good Michigander is always up for a day on the water.
"Hmm, what does your sister do?"
"She's working as an orientation leader this summer, something about introducing pre-freshmen to the campus."
Oh man, no wonder she loves her job. Leading orientation is one of the best college summer jobs on the planet. You get paid to live in the dorms with twenty other upperclassmen and show the incoming class how awesome it is to study here. I loved my orientation session. I even debated interviewing to be a leader myself one summer, but put me in front of a hundred people and I freeze. There's no way I could lead tours and make Michigan University seem appealing. I would have been one big sweatfest who could barely string two words together. There's a reason I hang out behind a lens, not in front of it.
"Yeah, I get it. It's a sweet job."
Baron laughs. "Well, that's good to hear. I thought maybe she was just blowing me off because I stick out like a sore thumb."
"Nope. Her job really is awesome. She's not lying."
Baron stops walking, and I look over at a blue Prius. Did he forget where he parked?
"This is me." He points at the Prius.
"Oh." Huh. For some reason I was imagining a tricked-out black SUV, something that cost twice what I make in a year. I have the strong urge to fist bump him right now. Environmentally responsible and budget friendly—Baron is full of surprises.
Baron chuckles to himself like I just handed him the punch line of a good inside joke. I wonder if I'm not the first one to be surprised.
He doesn't reach for his keys, and my mind wanders back to a goodbye kiss. I can't say I'm not curious. Every single square inch of my skin is curious. What would it feel like to have him wrapped around me, to have his fingers trace lines across my skin? Just the thought of it catches my heart mid-beat.
"Are you headed home?" I ask, scrambling for anything to get my mind off his lips and what they would feel like pressed against mine.
Baron shakes his head. "Umm, not yet. I was going to walk over to my sister's dorm and say hi."
"Oh. I just figured…"
"Yeah, you offered to walk me back to my car, and I wasn't going to say no to that." His smile is slightly self-conscious, but with an edge of charm to it. I feel a flicker of courage. Maybe I do want to kiss him.
No. I'm not there…not yet. "Is your sister in East Quad?" I vaguely remember that's where I stayed for my own orientation before I started school here.
"Yup."
Hmm, we're going in opposite directions. I'm still not entirely sure I want this to end, but I'm not ready to walk with him to see his sister. Plus, there's not even an offer to do so on the table.
Cause that's not awkward: I show up with him at his sister's dorm and say, Hi! I just had a quasi-romantic meal with your brother. I'm Monty, want to be my new sister?
"Umm, I guess I'll see you later?" I don't know if I'm posing the question to him or to myself.
Does he want to see me later? Do I want to see him later? Who's calling who in this situation? My brain is starting to short-circuit with questions I don't have the answers to.
And this is why I'm single.
"Yeah. It was really nice spending time with you today…" His sentence trails off at the end, and I wish he would keep going. It sounded like it was going somewhere good.
"Same here." We stand silent for a minute, and I realize I can't keep standing here waiting for him to say something. Do something. I lift up on my toes and give him the faintest whisper of a kiss on his cheek.
Okay, that was good. Sweet, but not too much. I pull back and see a smile bloom across his face. Really good.
"I need to get going, get these pictures uploaded." And stare at your face for half the night. I start to turn on my heels toward the direction of home, but just before I hit a full one eighty, I stop. "I'll see ya later."
It's a casual goodbye, but I mean every single word.
Three hours and a nice cold beer later, I've gone through every single photo from the afternoon—twice. My laptop is overheating on my lap, but after staring at Baron's face for three hours, I think my whole body is running about five degrees hotter than normal.
I can confirm that staring at him on a screen is an extraordinarily close second to staring at him in person, except there's no time limit. He won't unfreeze and ask if he has something stuck in his teeth because I can't stop focusing on that gorgeous smile of his.
It's not because his smile is show-stopping, which it is—I mean, those teeth are a walking orthodontist advertisement. It's the way his smile pushes the corners of his lips up toward his cheeks, making these deep lines that frame it perfectly, like parentheses to happiness. I find myself smiling just looking at him, as if I can't help but join in because he's enjoying life so damn much. I want to enjoy it with him.
Mmm, and everything on him is proportional. His nose is strong but not overly dominant. His eyebrows are thick but not bushy. His jaw is chiseled but not so angular that you could cut a steak with it.
I see things through a lens, but I interpret them on a screen—and this interpretation? Yeah, it's saying this man makes my heart race a hundred and eighty beats per minute.
Staring at him is better than a damn workout, and that makes me want to sprint out of my comfort zone.
I'm twenty-three years old, and I've taken the safe route for every single one of those years. I went to college twenty minutes away from home. I took a job at the local newspaper and stuck around after graduation. The only remotely adventurous choice I've made was majoring in photojournalism instead of something more solid, like computer science or business. Granted, my performance in my freshman year calculus class pretty much took both of those options off the table.
Still, I crave adventure. I just haven't been choosing it. I pull my phone out of my bag and twirl it over and around in thought.
What if I called Baron? What would happen? We would spend time together, and I would get to know him. I would risk developing feelings for a man who is not at all the type of person I normally date. The last guy I dated was an English major trying to make his way writing satire, and he was the most miserable person I've ever chosen to spend time with. But, he was bookish and lanky, my version of a safe choice. He'd grown up in Michigan and had every intention of sticking around in his parents’ basement for as long as possible.
What happens if I choose the unknown route? The route I can't see myself on?
I have no idea, and that's terrifying.
And kind of exciting. Kind of really exciting.
I stop twirling my phone and swipe it open. I press the last unknown number in my recent history and wade out into the unknown.
Baron picks up on the second
ring. "Hey." He sounds surprised and pleased.
I have to admit I'm pretty surprised myself. I can't believe I'm doing this. "Hey, are you back home?"
"Nope, I was just heading back to my car. Why?" My pulse quickens at his answer.
I'm sick of playing it safe. "What are you doing tonight?"
"Whatever you want me to." His tone takes on a husky undertone, and I imagine a sneaky smile curving across his lips.
"Okay, I'll be at your car in fifteen minutes. Will you wait for me?" I close my eyes, squeezing them tight. I already know he's going to say yes, but this feels so much more daring than a simple request.
"Definitely."
My eyes spring open. I have five minutes to get out this door and ten more to walk the mile to the shelter. I quickly say goodbye then start to dart around my room. I don't have time to analyze clothing choices or think about where we're going or what we're doing.
I'm finally living in the moment, and if I had known it would feel this good, I would have started doing it a whole lot sooner.
I'm going to go hang out with Baron tonight.
Ohmygod. I'm going to go hang out with Baron. Tonight. I quickly pull on a pair of white skinny jeans and a sleeveless plaid shirt from the pile of clean clothes on my floor. As I'm zipping up my pants, I realize I'm wearing the comfiest pair of boy short underwear I own.
Yeah, that's not going to work. I hop over to my dresser, mid-wardrobe change, and grab a thong just in case living in the moment takes me places where clothing is optional.
By the time I check my hair and makeup and grab my purse, I'm already late.
I race out the door and run the whole way to Baron's parked Prius.
"I almost thought you'd leave without me." I stop running, but my momentum slings me forward and I barrel into him. He's like a wall of muscle. I guess it does make sense that they call him Bear. He catches me, and I suddenly want to thank my momentum for winning that round.
His hands linger on my arms for a second longer than normal. "Are you kidding? A girl calls you up and tells you to wait, you wait."
"Just any girl?"
"Only the really amazing ones." He opens up the passenger door for me. "Come on in."
I slip into the passenger seat and realize I told him we should hang out but have no idea where we're going or what we're doing, while Baron's acting like he does.
When he gets in the driver's side and turns on the ignition, I decide I'm too curious to wait to find out his plan. "So, where are we off to?"
"Well, you've showed me around some of your town, so I figured I would show you some of mine."
I smile to myself. He could take me anywhere right now and I'd go along with it. I don't know where this new adventurous Monty came from, but I'm sure as hell glad she decided to show up.
Baron maneuvers us out to the highway and merges on. He drives his little Prius more like a sports car than the moderately affordable fuel-efficient model that it is.
"So, is this really your car?"
"Why? What kind of car did you think I would have?"
"I don't know, an all-black tank with massive rims."
Baron loses it. Laughter tumbles out of him like champagne from a shaken bottle. "Yeah, so I had one of those, but it got the worst gas mileage in the world. It was a hell of a ride, but when my lease ended, I switched it out for something more practical."
"You're full of surprises."
"So are you." The way he says it makes it seem like he thought I would call eventually.
I surprised myself tonight. "I've played it safe for a long time. Too long…"
"Well, I'm glad I was on the receiving end of that call."
"Me too." The words tumble out, but when I hear myself say them, I realize I truly mean it. I like Baron. He's the guy I met in the bar, and as I start to get to know him better, that side of him becomes the dominant vision in my head—not the other version of him that hulks up with chest pads and paint and goes out onto a field to play a sport I don't like or understand.
I'm going to let myself forget that part of him exists…for as long as I possibly can.
Baron exits the highway and weaves through the streets of downtown Detroit. We pull up to a massive old warehouse, and he presses a button that opens a thick metal gate, leading us down to a parking garage underneath the building.
We haven't even stepped out of the car, but I already know where we are. Baron brought me to his place. His place—where he eats, sleeps, and walks around butt naked.
I find myself really wanting to witness that last part. I'm sure football training does a body good.
We take the elevator up to the top floor of the eight-story building, and even though we're not touching, I am distinctly aware of Baron the entire ride up. I play with the strap of my cross-body bag just to keep my hands occupied. Otherwise, I have no idea if this new brave Monty would reach over and press them into Baron's chest, wedging us back into the corner of the tiny space.
It's a decent idea, but I'm not ready to hand over the reins to this new version of me quite yet.
The elevator dings. We step out and make our way to the only door on the floor. He slides his key into the lock and presses the door open, letting me in ahead of him.
A dim light in the entry switches on automatically, and my breath catches.
It's floor-to-ceiling windows, and it must be at least two stories high. It's got exposed beams and ductwork. Everything is leather, wood, concrete, or metal. It's as if I crawled into an Architectural Digest feature. I step toward the main open area, and I realize that the windows look out onto the river. The lights in the distance are from Canada.
It's a good thing Baron likes me, because I don't think I'm ever leaving. My apartment is cozy, but this place is magical.
"Welcome to Casa de Richards."
"Casa? More like penthouse dreamland."
I live smack dab in the middle of a college town. My definition of luxury is clean sheets that were purchased sometime after college graduation. My standards are not high, and I'm starting to think I've been doing it wrong. I thought it was a score to not have roommates. This is about two thousand square feet over that requirement.
"You like it?" he asks as he rubs the back of his neck.
I can tell I'm staring at something he created. It would be like handing him my favorite photos; they’re pieces of me that exist outside my body.
"I love it." The space is huge, but all the furnishings are so warm and inviting. I feel like I'm walking into a Pinterest photo that gets re-shared millions of times. It's photo ready, and yet it still feels like you could curl up in your jammies and binge the day away with a pile of pizza.
"Come on, let me get you something to eat. That burrito was huge, but that was way too long ago."
I can't argue with him. I was wondering if there would be food in this plan. We walk into the open kitchen with its dark espresso cabinets and steel counters. I sit down on a barstool and watch him roll up his sleeves and start to work on an omelet.
"So you can cook too?" I ask.
He shrugs. "I have some of the basics down. My mom made sure all of us boys would survive in the wild. I do my own laundry too."
"Look at you, winning at adulthood," I say with a wide smile.
He looks up from across the counter, and our eyes connect. Even though he's not touching me, my skin tingles as if I'm saturated in him. He's set a filter over my life and brought out a completely different hue.
I like it. I like it a lot.
I'm sitting at the counter with a clean plate in front of me. I demolished my omelet, but my appetite for Baron is anything but satiated.
Every moment makes me want ten more.
I keep forgetting we are anything but two people who are getting to know each other. The fact that he's a football player doesn't even factor in.
Instead I'm finding out what it was like growing up with three siblings. We both grew up on acres of land, but my childhood was spent
on my own with my nose in a book while Baron was playing capture the flag with his older brothers and younger sister. Part of me envies the camaraderie. I wonder sometimes if I would be more outgoing if I had grown up trying to find my voice among the cacophony.
But my mom always likes to remind me that introversion is part of my neurological makeup. Thanks, Mom.
Baron is sitting on the stool right next to me, swiveling back and forth. I don't think the man ever really stops. There's always motion. I wonder if falling asleep against him would feel like being rocked to sleep by waves.
I wonder a lot of things about him. I feel like I could fill the space from now until tomorrow morning entirely with questions.
"So, where are your parents now?" I ask.
Baron's smile drops. "My mom is still in the house I grew up in, but my dad passed away a while ago from a heart attack."
"Baron…" My voice is unsteady. I don't know what to say. I never know what to say when grief shows up to the party. We both stand awkwardly in our own corners, waiting for the other one to make the first move.
Baron reaches out and wraps his hand around mine, and I swear I feel every single blood cell stop and flutter in place, trying to soak in the feeling of his warm skin on mine.
He looks over at me, and I know he's trying to tell me it's okay. It's okay to not know what to say. It's okay to not know how to comfort someone. Just be here; that's all he needs.
"Come on, I have something I want to show you." Baron slides off the stool and walks around to stand just in front of me, never letting go of my hand.
My lungs fail to move even a centimeter when I look him in the eye. I want to go everywhere with this man, and that feeling is exquisitely overwhelming. "Okay." It's all I can manage right now, but those two syllables are all Baron needs from me.
I slip off the stool, and he leads me over to a set of floating stairs tucked against the far edge of the room. I wonder if he's taking me to his bedroom. I wouldn't say no.
