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“Cole? Best director we’ve ever had here. Super-cool guy too.”
“Cole wears slacks and a sweater on Wednesdays, so I wear slacks and a sweater on Wednesdays.”
Of course, I get the benefit of liking Cole before it was cool to like Cole.
He’s my boyfriend now. Myofficialboyfriend. I know it sounds braggy, especially when you see his abs, but it’s only because I am, in fact, bragging.
Our slow and torturous start has the benefit of launching us into a no-holds-barred frenzy of a relationship where at any moment of the day, if the timing and situation are right, we’re gonna be making out. My lips are perpetually red. My hand has permanently conformed to the shape of Cole’s ass. I have every dark corner of this hotel cataloged in my head: which ones have enough space for Cole to haul me up against the wall, and which ones will afford us atinybit of privacy, but not enough to get really carried away.
This is our running tally:
Number of guests who’ve accidentally caught us kissing: 4. (To be fair, they were all part of one family. The mom gasped and covered her children’s eyes, but it’s not like they could really see anything ... )
Number of times HR has had to call us in for a debrief on Siesta Playa’s relationship policies: 1.
Number of times I’ve been late for work because Cole has kept me up too late the night before: 2.
There were a few weeks right in the beginning where we tried the good old-fashioned dating strategy of swapping where we stay each night: a night at his place, then a night at mine. Outside that, we’d meet for lunch and dinner—frantic for more time together—and then, when we were nearing the one-month mark, Cole suggested that I inform HR that I want to move out of my dorm.
It happened one Sunday morning when we were on the pebble path walking from the cafeteria to my dorm. We both woke up late craving the crispy bacon and syrup-covered pancakes the staff cafeteria makes on the weekends. It was worth the schlep from Cole’s place to the cafeteria because we got to eat with Lara and Camila, and afterward, once our bodies were more syrup than blood, we decided to stop off at my dorm so I could grab a change of clothes. Our hands were interlaced as we strolled on the path with no real plan in mind for the rest of our day.
“We could go down to the beach?” I offered.
“I kind of want to hike.”
“Oh, that could be fun!”
ThenBAM.
“What if you moved out of your dorm?”
I glanced over at him with big round eyes.
“I’ll be homeless then,” I said, dumb as a rock.
Cole smiled a crooked little smile. “You’ll be moving in with me ...”
I’m not sure if he meant for me to move in that day, but I did. We turned right around on that pebble path and headed back to my dorm so we could pack it up. I don’t have all that much, actually. I’ve always been a lady of few items. My clothes fit into a big duffel. My miscellaneous junk filled a few boxes. Then Cole borrowed one of the resort’s golf carts and we hauled everything to his place in two easy trips.
I became the second toothbrush in his bathroom, the soft pink pillow on his otherwise blue-and-white bed, the misshapen ceramic mug on his kitchen shelves.
He was the one to suggest that we hang my mom’s series of photos over the couch in the living room, and we FaceTimed my parents to show them the setup once we were done.
“I love it!” my mom exclaimed. Then she asked more seriously, “So it’s officially official?”
“I know it’s fast ...,” I started, worried my parents were going to warn me away from acting rashly. Moving in with someone is a big step; I understand that.
I expected a lot of things: a reproachful frown, a drawn-out warning about taking things slow, possibly even a horribly belated birds-and-bees speech.Sweetie, sometimes when a man loves a woman ... they touch ... intimately.
My mom did the exact opposite. She guffawed. “Are you kidding?! If I had to listen to you talk about Cole,complainabout Cole,wax poeticabout Cole for one more minute, I was going to lose it. For the last six months it’s all you brought up.”
Oh dear god.
“It was endless, truly. I thought we were going to have to come there and sort it out ourselves—”
I clamored for my phone.
“Sorry! Mom?!” I made sure to speak very loudly over her. “Mom?!Weird.You’re cutting out!”
