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A few times, we’re asked to take a photo together. Come on, you two! Squeeze in! As if nervous that I’ll protest, Derek always moves quickly. He grabs ahold of my waist, tugs me close, and there I stand, crowded in by his size, his dominance. I might as well be a prop with the way he moves me to and fro. I’m sure when the guests return to their hotels and scan through their photos, they’ll wonder why I look so off, why my smile is so strained, why my cheeks are so flushed, my eyes glassy. I probably look fluish. I want to apologize and tell them to come back another day, preferably a few months from now when Derek is no longer posted here. Then, I’ll give them the dazzling smile they’ve come to expect.
The absolute worst is when they beg us to kiss. They’re relentless with their teasing. They don’t drop it when it becomes clear we won’t do it. Or rather, Derek won’t. He doesn’t even kiss my cheek like Ryan would have. I know we’re characters in a fictitious fairytale, but the rejection still hurts.
All day, I feel feverish and on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s his mood I’m picking up on. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s still the composed, stoic man I’ve come to know, but beneath his marble exterior, I can tell there’s a storm brewing.
At the end of the shift, he leaves without a word, and I resist the urge to run after him, pound my fists against his back, and beg him to stop.
The entire week drags on like this.Saturday night, Ryan invites me to play mini golf.
Whitney: Seriously?Ryan: Oh…my bad. Was I supposed to invite you to do something cooler? Not too late to hit up a rave or something.Whitney: A RAVE?! Stop while you’re ahead.Ryan: So…yes?It’s such an innocent request, and I’ve had such a strained week, so I happily accept. Since most of the staff don’t keep cars on site, Ryan shows up at my dorm with two bikes in tow. One is his. The other he borrowed from a friend.
He holds up a chunky black helmet, and I take it with a laugh.
“The mini golf course isn’t far, but it’d take forever to walk there. You up for it?”
I plop the helmet on my head in reply. He smiles and steps forward, helping me adjust the straps so they fit snugly under my chin.
“Sorry. My friend has a big head.”
I laugh and he bends closer, fiddling with the buckle. It finally clicks into place. His eyes meet mine and his smile fades. I think he wants to kiss me. He’s going to kiss me, but then I knock my closed fist on the helmet and declare it a perfect fit.
“Ready to go?”
Since it’s a Saturday night, the mini golf course is extremely crowded. It doesn’t help that we’ve found ourselves smack-dab behind a large birthday party. The first three holes take thirty minutes. Time moves in reverse. Danny (I know his name because everyone is wearing matching DANNY IS 8! shirts) seems nice enough and I hate talking trash about him, but the kid can’t golf. On the fourth hole, his ball pings off the miniature windmill, collides with a tree, and then manages to hit Ryan directly in the face.
Kids scream when his nose starts gushing blood. I rush to get ice from the main office. After that, we sit on the curb out front while Ryan tips his head back, waiting for the bleeding to stop.
“Want me to go back and beat Danny up for you?” I tease.
He laughs and then groans.
“You don’t think it’s broken, do you?” I ask, eyes wide.
“No. My nose bleeds really easily. I have a weak constitution.”
I laugh, because it’s categorically not true. He’s tall, athletic.
“It’ll stop in a second,” he assures me.
Sure enough, after a few minutes, he moves the ice pack off his face and there’s no more blood, just a little bit of swelling and a faint red bump.
He glances over and I smile.
“It’s really not so bad. You were always missing the left half, right?”
He leans over and playfully jostles my shoulder with his. I smile down at my feet.
“I can’t believe we worked together for so long before I worked up the courage to ask you out.”
One of my eyes narrows as I think it over. “Didn’t I technically ask you out first? Last week?”
“That doesn’t count. We were never alone. This is definitely our first date.”
“Wow. Date, huh?” I emphasize the word with an exaggerated smirk.
“I knew I should have taken you to the rave.”
I chuckle.
His tone is more serious when he continues, “I’ve been wanting to take you out for a while, but you know…you’re kind of intimidating.”
