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“This place is fancy,” I say, staring in awe at the looming structure that has been created to so beautifully blend in with the hundreds of trees surrounding the property.
“Yes it is.”
Boyd drives through the parking lot and toward the back, exiting the lot along a small road that doesn’t look like it gets much use.
That’s when I start laughing.
“What?”
“Are you taking me to Easy Street?” I ask, loving that I know the nickname for the hookup spot.
Boyd shrugs a shoulder and looks at me. “Maybe. It’s a great place to watch the sunset.”
I grin, waiting impatiently as he drives along switchbacks for a few hundred yards before we emerge along a clearing that provides an excellent view of the lake.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he says after parking.
I bite my lip and look his way. “Fancy indeed.”
Then he takes one of my hands in his and tugs me across the bench seat so I’m plastered up against his side, dropping a soft, sexy kiss against my mouth.
I assume he’s brought me up here for a fun little rendezvous, so I’m surprised when he turns on the radio, loops his arm around my shoulders, and starts humming along as we watch the sun begin to set in the distance.
He is…nothing I was expecting, on this trip or in my life—ever—and yet I’m starting to realize he’s exactly what I need.
Maybe I’ve assumed the physical was the only good part of a relationship because I never had a man like Boyd to show me how wrong I was. The best part of being with Boyd isn’t the physical part. It isn’t that he treats me like I assume most men treat women on first dates.
Being with Boyd is about the quiet laughter, the heartfelt conversations, the sweet gestures. He makes me feel like a painful space in my chest is slowly starting to heal, like at one point I was cut open with a rusty hatchet and now he’s here to clean out the wound and stitch me back up.
Sometimes, it doesn’t feel real. Sometimes, it feels like too much. Too big. Too fast.
But I’m starting to see that the good stuff is something you have to take a risk on.
For the first time in my life, I’ve found a man who makes me want to gamble.
* * *
The following morning, Boyd enlists his siblings to do a family yoga session out on the grass. I don’t know what he bribed them with, but it worked. I couldn’t stop laughing at Bishop and his relentless gas every time he bent into a new position, or at Briar when she finally moved her mat because of it.
Afterward, the two of us spend a little while out on the boat just cruising Cedar Point and listening to Boyd’s stories about growing up, followed by some time spent rotating between swimming outside of his house and lying out on the dock to dry out.
Eventually, we have dinner with his family and end the evening with a ridiculous round of Cards Against Humanity. Saying I lost would be an understatement. Boyd’s family is fucking ruthless. A friend of mine from high school told me once that you need to play the game with people you know really well because you don’t want to risk hurting anyone’s feelings, and also because having shared experiences would lead to funnier card combinations.
She was not wrong, but Boyd and his family weren’t just intent on poking fun at each other. They also ripped the shit out of me, saving some of their most ridiculous cards for the rounds when I would be the one who had to read them out loud.
It was mortifying.
What gives me gas? pooping as quietly as possible.
When all else fails, I can always masturbate to grandpa’s ashes.
Next time on Dr. Phil, how to talk to your child about shutting the fuck up.
I swear, I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time. For some reason, I was just horrible at putting together card combinations. I think the most risqué one I even put down was only mildly funny.
What’s fun until it gets weird? menstruation.
I didn’t win a single hand, and the Mitchells teased me about it relentlessly. I loved every single minute.
