He and I were from two different worlds. His included access to wild animals I knew should be safe and in the actual wild, as their name implied, and he seemed to think they were fine at parties. Sure, he hadn’t confessed to that part, but I had eyes. I’d seen the picture.
But despite that, I was thinking about him nonstop, wondering where he liked to go out to eat, what his favorite color was, and how long ago that ex was from that he texted the picture to. And his ex was the last thing that I should’ve been focusing on.
That didn’t stop me from asking myself all the questions. Was he an ex in the “he’s the one that got away and I’m miserable” kind of way? Or was he an ex in the “thank fucking goodness he’s gone because I wanted no part of him” kind of way?
My desire to know more about Lincoln didn’t stop there. I wanted to know what he liked to do on the weekends and what his job really was. Was he close to his family, or was he like me with a meddling mother? There were a thousand questions and no answers because, despite my desire to reach out to him multiple times, I didn’t.
It was he who reached out first, asking me to come over and giving me an address. I told him I would, just as I’d promised when we were at the coffee shop. Nothing more. Not a “how are you?” or so much as a have a nice day. Nope. I simply said I’d be there. Done.
But as soon as I hit send, I got nervous. I was going to meet Lincoln, and he was going to tell me everything. That was the deal.
I pulled out the papers that I’d brought to the coffee shop but never took out. Then, because I needed something to do, I reorganized them. I found pockets of missing information that could be handy when making my case and went on my computer, saving articles, printing them, and putting them in binders. Yes, it grew to be multiple binders.
It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous. If he was lying about the panther, no amount of documentation mattered. I could come complete with a slide deck and originally written music to go along with it and the result would be the same. His mind was long since made up.
But if he hadn’t been lying and his secret was something else… I’d come across as the jerk for not believing him.
And if I really was thinking that he was hiding wildlife illegally, wouldn’t my first reaction be to call the Game Commission? That was what a rational person would do. It wasn’t as if I couldn’t give them a phone number and leave it at that. Handing the problem over was the simplest decision and one I should've made that very first night.
Except I couldn’t. I was invested.
So invested, that in my dreams, I saw the two of us walking hand-in-hand on a beach, kissing, and him rubbing his cheek against mine.
Those weren’t things that I normally did with people I dated, not that I had a big dating experience. I mean, sure, the kissing, yes, but walking on the beach? I’d never gone to the beach with any guy. It wasn’t on my to-do list, and yet, that was exactly where my nocturnal musings went.
The whole thing was so weird. Why did my brain conjure up cheek-rubbing? Who did that? And yet, it was the sweetest kind of affection in my dream. And of course, because why not make this more complicated than it already was… I woke up from my dream hard, wishing he was beside me. I tried to ignore my hard-on, assuming it would go away when the dream faded. It didn’t, and I had to handle it myself… Lincoln’s face at the forefront of my mind the entire time.
I shook that memory from my head and clipped the final papers into the last binder when my phone started ringing. I grabbed it and answered without looking, my mind focused on Lincoln despite my best efforts. Why I instantly assumed it was himwhen he’d never even called me, just texted, was beyond me, but I did… which would’ve been fine if it had been anyone else but my mother on the other end of the line.
“Oh, good, you’re home.” My mother still hadn’t realized that answering the phone didn’t mean one was home anymore. And the funny thing is, cell phones were a part of life from the time she was a teenager. It wasn’t like they were new to her. Still, there were multiple times she’d been shocked to call and discover I was at work or in the car when I answered.
“I do happen to be home, Mother, yes. What can I do for you?” I wasn’t in the mood, but given how our last conversation ended, I did my best to sound cheerful.
“Well, you know how you don’t like it when I randomly introduce you to men?”
“I do know this, Mother. I know it very well. In fact, I’ve told you this many times.” And my cheerfulness was gone.
Whatever she was planning was a no from me. The last time she started out this way, she had paid for me to get a spot at a speed-dating event. Why would someone pay to attend something so painful?
“Well, I promised you I wouldn’t do that anymore. So this time, I thought I would call you first and tell you about him.” Before I could get a word in edgewise, she began her sales pitch. “He’s a doctor! His mother is in the knitting group with me, and let me tell you, she has nothing but wonderful things to say about him.”
“Of course she does, Mother. Why would she badmouth her kid at a knitting circle?”
“Oh, you would be surprised. I know all the things?—”
I cut my mother off. “I’m not going on a date with him. You can tell your friend, thanks, but no thanks.”
I didn’t even get into the fact that if his mother was trying to set her doctor son up at a knitting club, then the chances were there was a reason he was single. Probably many. On paper, he might’ve been a man worth jumping at. Heck, he could be perfect, but I still didn’t want anything to do with him.
Only this time, my rejection wasn’t because my mother was playing matchmaker, although I did hate that.
This time, it was because my mind couldn’t focus on anybody but Lincoln. Lincoln, the walking red flag who lied to me and admittedly was keeping secrets from me. Lincoln who I should be running far away from instead of getting off to memories of.
“Just give it a try,” she said. “What’s the worst that can happen? A bad date?”
“Mom, I was going to wait to tell you this, but I have a boyfriend. I can’t be randomly dating other people.”
“You have a what?” she gasped. “No way! Tell me all about him.”
