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It wasn’t that the boxes were unpacked and all my clothes hung in the closet. Or that I knew my way around the Metro and campus. Those things had come with time. Each day I walked through my new life, they became a part of it.
I should write about how something tugged and pulled me toward Vaughn. How I could look at him and feel the current running between us. It defied logic. He had awakened me. Brought happiness when everything else was muddled and gray.
I didn’t know how he’d done it. I had dated other men I knew more about than Vaughn. It seemed by the third date I had a complete history on their favorite sports teams, who they voted for the first time, and every place they had gone on summer vacation as a kid. They weren’t afraid to hand over their biographies. They were scared to death to hand over themselves. The distance they kept wasn’t in a list of personal accomplishments or sharing every opinion that occurred to them. The distance came from under their skin. From time they could give. From fear that feelings for me would cripple their lives.
The irony was that Vaughn was the opposite side of the coin. I knew him better than any man who had been in my bed.
I curled under the covers and rested the wine glass next to the bed.
Instead of picking up my journal I reached for my laptop. It had been a month. More than a month, and I had resisted all my instincts to research Vaughn. Until now.
I didn’t have all the details. I didn’t have a picture of his past or the experiences of his life. I was selfish, but I wanted them.
I typed his name into the Facebook search bar. I waited for his picture to pop up.
Nothing.
I scrunched my nose and tried Instagram and lastly Twitter.
Nothing.
I started an internet search next. I came up empty. Vaughn Hunter didn’t show up anywhere.
I closed the computer and sat back. I realized not all guys liked to be on social media. And they liked being tagged and linked even less. He was a private person. I knew that. But I chewed my bottom lip, trying to figure out how I would ask him about it.
I couldn’t mention it without revealing I had tried to find him.
The question I had to answer for myself was, what difference did it make? Did it matter if I couldn’t find pictures of Vaughn online? Maybe I was spared the awkward pain of seeing him with an ex-girlfriend. What would I get out of scrolling through pictures of him with another woman?
My phone chimed with a text.
I picked it up.
Thinking about me?
I smiled.
Maybe.
I wasn’t ready to tell him that I couldn’t think about anything other than him. I knew it was too soon. I knew a month of dating and sleeping together wasn’t long enough to bare my soul. Even though it was as if Vaughn knew my soul. He knew parts of me no man had touched. Pushed me to a ridiculous Internet search. I was embarrassed.
Want to go somewhere this weekend?
I stared at the phone. Was he asking me to leave town with him? I scrambled through the schedule in my head, dying to tell him yes.
What were you thinking?
My responses were much calmer than my feelings.
I know this place a few hours away. Lots of wine.
I held the glass I had poured. He wanted to go to one of the wineries. I’d heard people at work talk about them. Fall was apparently the best time to go. Holy shit. I imagined an entire weekend with Vaughn on vacation.
I’d love to go.
He typed back quickly.
I’ll make the reservations.
