More than once, I thought to text him. But say what? That I missed him? That was creepy at best. So instead, I checked my phone a thousand times and wondered if he was thinking about me at all.
Finally, when I looked down there was a message. It came during the workday, and I didn’t get it till the end.Do you still need me to help with your mom?
That was it. I ignored it, unsure how to respond, but I appreciated the sweetness of it. Even after I ran away, he was willing to help me. Asking him had been a foolish thing in the first place. I knew how to be firm with my mother. There was no reason for me to have pulled that in the first place.
The next day, his text had a different feel to it, a simplethinking of youand a picture of his coffee at the shop we’d met at that day. Once again, he gave me an easy opening to chat with him, like I’d been longing to for days. And once again I ignored it, not knowing the best way to respond.
The next message he sent was an apology.Sorry I scared you.
The thing was, that wasn’t it. He hadn’t scared me, not in the truest sense of the word, and definitely not for the reasons he thought. This time, I finally knew how to respond, the need to comfort him helped me break through my fear of making a huge dumpster fire out of the situation.
I’m not scared.I kept it short and simple.
He replied almost instantly, which was the exact opposite of what I’d been doing.I’m glad. I hated to think that I had.
I hit the call button and put it on speaker. Sending a picture of his animal form was a horrible idea, and talking about it via text felt equally bad. Talking about it was better.
“Hey,” he said on the other end of the line, with so much emotion in his voice that I couldn’t pick out exactly which ones. It was like this mesh of happy, sad, and a little confused.
“So, remember how I had all those binders?” If only he’d known it wasn’t the first time. He’d been saved by my data collecting at the coffee shop.
“I do.” At least this time, there was a little humor in his voice. And fair, that had been ridiculous.
“Well, I’m kind of a data kind of guy, as that shows. I thought maybe we could get together, and you could tell me more about all of this. Like, explain it to me, and I could ask questions. And I promise not to run away. What do you think? Could we maybe do that?” I was talking a mile a minute, but I knew if I stopped, I wouldn’t get it all out.
“Yeah, of course we can.”
Was that relief I was hearing? Had he been as worried about this situation as I was?
“And I meant it about your mother. I can be your boyfriend.”
It didn’t go unnoted that he hadn’t said pretend in there.
“I appreciate that, but let’s take one step at a time. Why don’t you come over to my place? We could… I don’t know… but for the record, I won’t run.”
“Yeah, I could do that. Just tell me the time and the place.”
I hadn’t thought the offer through at all when I’d made it. After we hung up, I shot him a text and gave him the address and asked him to come over the next night. He instantly replied letting me know he’d be there and to let him know if I wanted him to bring anything.
And just like that, it felt like a date, and I found myself cleaning and dusting as if I were. I wanted the place to be perfect for him. It was a small apartment, nothing fancy, but it was very much me in personality.
The next day, I went to the store and got some food to make a simple dinner for us. Was I acting like this was a date? I absolutely was. Was it a date? Of course it wasn’t. This was just information-seeking, nothing more.
Only it felt like everything more. So much more.
I opted for an easy dinner, one that could wait if we were ready to talk or be ready quickly. I had just about finished cooking when he came to the door. I opened it and did something I wasn’t expecting, something I wasn’t planning… I threw my arms around him, holding him close and rubbing my cheek against his. I quickly schooled myself and pulled back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”
I waited for a cocky response, something along the lines of, “What’s wrong? Is it because I’m so hot?” But he didn’t say it. Instead, he walked straight inside. “It smells great inhere. Thanks for inviting me. Should we get on with the interrogation?”
“I’m not going to interrogate you, but I do have some questions.”
“Some or a lot?”
I had to chuckle. “A whole lot.”
“Then it’s a good thing I have all night.”
And in that moment, I wanted that “all night” to be a lot more than talking.
