There is something about 3 p.m. In the desert--people stay indoors, shut in. For me, I usually do my longest, hardest, runs at this hour. The heat permeates off the pavement, you can see it, bubbling up like steam from a pot. The hour between 3 and 4 is the best time of day--the streets are quiet, for the first time all afternoon you’re enveloped by quiet. I wiped the sweat off my brow, calmed by the rhythmic sound of our feet touching the ground. I saw the gate ahead, starting to close, in unison we completed our daily run with a sprint--Bachi breathed heavy at my side as we darted through the gate of the townhouses just as it was shutting.
Bachi tugged anxiously ahead of me, recovered from our run, but ready for his lunch. “Okay, Okay, one minute. We need to get the mail first.” I could see the mail starting to pile up in my box, I sighed--still catching my breath, unlocking it and taking the stack of miscellaneous letters. I never bothered to go through them before carrying them upstairs, it was always the same--ads, my subscription to various magazines, bills, etc. Bachi was pulling hard at his leash, bounding up the stairs to the front door. I trailed behind wistfully, still thinking about Nick. I tried to imagine who I would rather be coming home to--Nick or Jason. Both had their flaws, but both had something about them too. Nick drew me in like a moth to a light. Why wasn’t the memory of the burn enough to keep me away? I had to have evolved beyond a moth.
I opened the refrigerator taking a big slug of my Evian water. I never really cared about name brands or anything like that, but I loved the wrapper. My father used to tell me, “spend money on anything that makes you happy” and at this point, water bottle wrappers do the job. Sad or Simple, I’m not sure. I looked down at Bachi who sat attentively on his heels, eyeing the water ruthlessly, his mouth shut in concentration.
“Are you hot, Bachi?!” I teased, leaning down and rubbing his sides vigorously before moving underneath his chin. He whined happily, rolling over onto his back, his legs sticking up. Dogs were so easy to please, all he wanted was a little love, some good food, and long walks. I pulled his water dish towards us and poured the rest of the Evian inside, “You’re spoiled Bachi, very spoiled,” I smiled, watching him lap up the water happily. My phone started buzzing on the counter and I jumped in surprise. I grabbed it, “Hello?”
“Delaney?” An unfamiliar voice inquired.
“This is she.”
“It’s Kevin, the owner of the bar you hate.”
I laughed, “I hadn’t expected you to actually call, doesn’t that go against bar dating ethics?”
“Well, your eyes made me want to bend those rules a little bit. How are you?”
Cliche. Very Cliche, “That’s a line I’ve never heard before. I’m good..and you?”
There was a brief pause, “Good, now that I’m talking to you.” I could hear the smile in his voice, “Have you heard that line before?”
I laughed, “So you’re that guy? Not sure I can go out with that guy.”
“Ha, that guy? No. Kevin Reese. The one and only.”
I raised an eyebrow, cocky. “Well, Kevin Reese, the one and only, what do you want? I’m in the middle of something,” I lied, staring down at Bachi who was anxiously awaiting his treat. I walked to the pantry, Bachi stood behind me, licking the trickle of sweat that ran down the back of my calves, I shooed him off, not wanting dog slobber in addition to the hour long run’s sweat.
“What are you in the middle of?”
“Very important things.”
“You sound out of breath..been saving the orphans?”
I ignored his comment, opening the bag of dog treats, “If feeding my dog counts, yes.”
He laughed, “What kind of dog is it? I didn’t take you for a dog person.”
I paused, not sure if that was really a compliment, “Well, he’s big..kind of a golden retriever, lab, kind of dog.” Bachi took the treat from my hands, tired of waiting, and trotted off to indulge himself on his big bed in the sun spot.
“Really? Are you sure it’s not some tiny ass dog that you carry in your purse?”
I smirked, thinking back to the woman stuffing her poodle in her purse, “Can’t say that I am. Anyway, enough about my dog, what do you want?” I said, I didn’t feel like having a long drawn out conversation.
“You. Maybe dinner.”
Both my eyebrows raised, “God, you’re forward. Do you have an off button?”
He laughed, “I’m kidding, but I would like to take you to dinner.”
I shifted my weight. Nick..Jason..Jason..Nick...men were overcomplicating my life as it is. I looked over to Bachi, and then around the sterile apartment.
“It can’t be that hard of a decision. I’m a fun guy, free dinner..what’s there to think about?”
I smiled, rolling my eyes, “Okay, sure. When did you have in mind?”
“Tonight.”
“Tonight? You know you’re supposed to ask a girl out 3 days in advance.”
“Maybe that guy does, but me, I’m taking a risk. Maybe I can’t wait 3 days to see you.”
“You’re laying it on thick.”
“Is it working?”
“Ugh, you’re incorrigible.”
He mimicked me, “Ugh, you’re using words elderly women use.”
I laughed, “Now you’re insulting me?”
“Easy target.” I could tell he was grinning.
I nodded, that was true. I sighed, I knew that Kevin was different from other guys I had dated, but not in a good way. Normally, I avoided guys like that as if they had the plague. If a guy was this smooth and forward on the phone, imagine how many girls he was practicing with. The rational part of me said no, the lonely part said yes.
“Just say yes.”
I bit my lip, take a risk, “Fine. What time?”
“7.”
“But that’s like an hour from now.”
“How long does it take you to get ready? Can’t take you that long, you’re beautiful.”
I laughed, thinking I had been secretly wanting to pick the perfect outfit and take my time getting ready. “I move slow.”
“I’ll let it go this time..7:30.”
“Deal.”
“Where?”
“Can’t tell.”
“And, why not?” I asked, hurrying to the bathroom to turn on the water. An hour and half didn’t give me much time to paint my nails, style my hair, pick out a killer outfit, and well..accomplish total physical perfection.
“Gotta keep that air of mysterious, element of surprise.”
I laughed, “Well, should I dress casual or what?”
“Whatever you want.”
I rolled my eyes, guys never got it. Women can’t just wear whatever they wanted--we have to plan an outfit according to the activity. If I’m going to the movies, jeans and a cute blouse do the trick, if we were going to a nice dinner--heels and a summer dress would be better. We need to know these things, trust me.
“Okay I give up,” I surrendered. I gave him the directions to my townhouse and hung up the phone. I raced back to the bathroom, throwing my clothes off as I went, time definitely wasn’t on my side. I let the conditioner sit on my hair, debating whether or not to shave my legs. I had just shaved yesterday, but what if he went to brush my leg and they weren’t as smooth as normal? But, it was our first date, what would he be doing touching my legs? Shoot. I decided it was better safe than sorry and shaved everything, lathering myself up in my coconut body wash afterwards. I smothered my skin in the lotion companion to my body wash, letting my hair air dry while I did my make up.
After I had finished styling my hair, leaving the rollers on the back to give my hair extra volume, my nerves started getting the best of me. I had somehow managed to start sweating, rushing to get ready. I looked at the clock by my bed, 6:45. I put my iPod in the speaker system, turning up The Darkness. I shimmied back to my bedroom, rough housing with Bachi along the way, belting the words to “I Believe in a Thing Called Love.” Nerves, forgotten. I danced inside my closet, pointing to my dresses as if they were an audience. I selected a strapless white cotton dress that outlined my body and gave me subtle cleavage. I slipped my silver sandals that buckled around my ankle from the shoe rack, tossing them by the bedroom door and put on matching accessories. Very casual, but very bohemian sexy. I managed a rocker guitar move as I snatched my creamy leather shoulder tote, putting all the necessities--sweet non-sticky lip gloss just in case we kissed, a tiny perfume, spearmint gum, hair tie, and comb--in the bag. I stood in front of the mirror, inspecting myself carefully--not a hair out of place. You know those days where you just look pretty? Well this was one of those rare perfect days. I was glowing, maybe the endorphins were still going from the afternoon run. I looked at the clock 7:15. What was I forgetting? Something was missing but I couldn’t figure it out. I moved around the apartment, tidying things up, singing to Bachi at the refrain. He tolerates my eccentricities, and I think he has a performer inside him as well because he was running around the house, getting low on all fours, wanting to play. I sprayed some Febreze, spraying it in unison with the backbeat. I gained momentum and then slid across the floor, spraying it behind me. I put the Febreze back on the shelf in my closet,
“Is it just me or am I all on my own again?!”
I sang, shutting the door behind me. I stopped in front of the vanity, putting on my deodorant, raising the roof while I waited for it to try--nothing worse than when it somehow manages to clump. These are the moments I’m glad I live alone, if anyone saw me performing my get-ready dance routine; I’d be single for-ev-er. I spritzed my neck and wrists with perfume, then spraying it into the air, I stepped under the mist. My mother used to do that, and I always thought it looked so elegant. The knock at the door brought me back to reality--shit! I looked at the clock, 7:24, he was early. You don’t want a guy to be really late, but you don’t want him to be early either. I listened to the music blasting from iPod, frozen. The opening guitar riffs of “One way ticket” were echoing throughout the apartment. I slid to the front door, opening it, as the refrain started playing, “my heart was under attack, one way ticket to hell and back.”
My breath caught in my throat. He was propped against the doorway, one arm resting against the door jam. He was wearing medium wash jeans with a nice leather belt, a white polo that hung loosely on his muscled frame and converse. His eyes were an incredible green, looking me over, pulling his hand to his heart, “Wow, that’s quite a dress.” I smiled, opening the door while Bachi rushed out from behind me to jump up on Kevin. “Bachi!” I yelled, tugging him backwards, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t teach him manners.” I laughed. Kevin laughed too, much to my relief, patting Bachi comfortably. His eyes moved around my apartment, inspecting things critically, I rushed over to the iPod to turn it off. It was just Kevin, me, and Bachi in the quiet of the apartment.
“You like the 80’s?”
“Oh,” I laughed nervously, “It’s not 80’s..it’s The Darkness.”
“Sounds like the 80’s. Nice socks by the way.”
That was what I had forgotten. I looked down at my hot pink and turquoise socks. I laughed, sitting down on the couch, tugging them off and putting them into a ball. Although my feet were now baby smooth from soaking in lotion, my sexy persona was obliterated. I looked up at him, he smiled and said “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” His eyes sparkled, offering his hand to pull me up off the couch. He did so, effortlessly, I fell into his chest. He looked down at me, it felt like I had hit a wall. He put his finger underneath my chin and leaned down to kiss me. When his lips hit mine, I felt a surge of electricity tingling my lips. My brain told me to pull away and be a lady, my body told me to take his clothes off. I groaned in defeat, pushing him away breathlessly, “Now, now. Slow down.” I laughed, putting my shoes on, trying to come back down from the clouds.
He smiled, staring over at me. I couldn’t figure him out--he was so sexy, but he was fun too. I liked that he gave me a hard time instead of just bending over backwards to make me feel like I was a perfect creature. Does that make sense? You know when a guy basically worships you? I hate that. I’m far from perfect and will be the first to admit it. There’s nothing wrong with accepting my flaws, finding me lovable, but don’t make me seem infallible--because I’m not.
I stood back up after fastening my sandals. He towered over at me, I mentally noted I should have worn pumps with my dress.
“How tall are you anyway?”
“6’5.”
6’5” inches of perfection, luckily I managed to conceal my delight. I loved tall men, there is nothing sexier than being with a man who can man handle you. I shook my head, shaking away the thoughts, putting my purse on. I stood at the door, he was busy playing with Bachi.
“I love your dog, what’s his name again?”
“Bachi.”
“As in the ball?”
I shrugged, “He was a gift from some family friends.”
“You didn’t change his name?”
“I don’t believe in changing people.” I said nonchalantly, picking the keys up off the rack between the kitchen and living room.
He smirked, “But it’s a dog.”
I shrugged again, “I think he’s more like a person than a dog.”
Kevin stared down as Bachi rolled around on his back, treat hanging out of his mouth happily. “Huh.” was all he managed.
He followed me down the stairs, “My car’s the black one on the right.”
He had parked next to my white BMW, which unfortunately was practically diagonal in the spot. If I had been trying to get into my car, I wouldn’t have been able to open the driver’s side door. He had managed to park his Range Rover inches from mine. That guy would drive a Range Rover.
“Yeah, that guy took up like 2 spaces, I had to wedge in because there weren’t any open spaces.” I crinkled my nose, why hadn’t I parked in my garage? Now he knew I couldn’t park. I opted not to say anything, hoping to put off any more embarrassment.
“Sorry, just wait while I back out.” He said, brushing my back as he walked passed. I smiled as he craned his neck out the window as he reversed, “How am I doing?”
He was cutting it close, the worst part was that he was cutting it close to my car. I sucked in air as he reversed cautiously. This was ridiculous. As he was about to scrape my car I said “Stop!”
He looked out the window at me, “Too close?”
I ran up the driver side window, “Confession. It’s my car. I’m going to move it. Just stay where you are.” Before he had time to make a comment, I climbed in my car through the passenger side window and reversed out, pulling it into the garage. I shut the garage door and jumped over the sensor--far from graceful. I opened the driver said door and hopped into the passenger seat, he stared at me with a smirk on his lips. “So far, not impressed with your music, socks, or driving.”
I smirked, “Well, then it can only go up from here.”
He laughed, I realized we were heading to an area of town I wasn’t very familiar with, “Where are we going?”
“Surprise.”
“Hmm...you’re full of surprises.”
He smiled widely, “First, how hungry are you?”
I thought about it, not feeling very hungry from nerves probably, I hadn’t eaten anything besides yogurt and toast, “I’m alright for now, but I’ll definitely want to eat at some point.”
“Good, then, we’re here.” I looked around as we pulled into a parking lot--we were at a miniature golf course, flooded with children. I couldn’t believe it--this was the last place I had expected to go, pretty original. “Are you ready for it, Delaney?” he inquired.
“Born ready.”
“That’s my girl.” He said, parking and jogging lightly to open my door, “Why thank you.” He smiled again, shutting it behind me, “Just a way to check out your ass.”
I rolled my eyes, half-gentleman, half-jackass. He paid and the girl behind the counter extended our putters towards us, “What color ball do you want? Pink?” he asked.
“Pink? Psh. Give me the blue one.”
He laughed, tossing the blue ball at me, “Blue balls...better for you to have it than me.” He winked, picking the pink ball, “I’m man enough.”
I rolled my eyes, cliche blue ball joke--but I was entertained that he opted for the pink. Full of surprises and contradictions.
We meandered towards the first hole, a seemingly straightforward shot, a hole at the top of the hill that was surrounded by two others, that would ultimately drop it farther away from the hole at the bottom level on the left.
“You a golfer, Delaney?”
My father and I had played in father-daughter tournaments since I was 5. Golfer was an understatement. I played innocent, “I play every now and again. You?”
He laughed, “Let’s just say, I could teach you a couple things.” I smirked, his confidence remained unfaltering. “Let’s make a bet.”
“What’s the best?” I said, resting my weight on the putter.
“I win, you show me your bedroom tonight.” My eyebrows raised, incredibly forward...not that it hadn’t crossed my mind.
I scoffed, “You wish.”
“Not up for a challenge?” he said, whispering in my ear as he grazed passed me.
I contemplated, he could be as equally talented as I was in the golfing area, but I had never lost a miniature golf game except to my father three years ago, and that was a fluke.
“What about..when I win?”
He laughed, “Dream on. Then..I show you my bedroom.”
“You’re going to have to try harder than that. I’m a lady.” I teased, shoving him lightly in the chest as he approached me.
“Hm, fine. If I win, you show me your bedroom, if you win, drinks on me whenever you come into the bar.”
I laughed, “I’m never going to your bar again.”
“I’m hurt.”
“Okay, fine, whatever.”
We shook hands and he offered to let me go first, I insisted he show me how it’s done. He took a practice swing, having a mock serious stance. I laughed, leaning up against the post where you write your scores. He tapped the ball, it went half way and then came rolling back down the hill. He jumped in frustration, laughing. He picked the ball up and put it infront of my lips, “Blow on it, for luck.”
“But you’re the competition.”
“Please.” He said, his eyes sparkling.
I laughed, blowing on it lightly as he went back to the green patch. He looked at me over his shoulder, “Are you checking out my ass?”
He looked so silly on the put-put course, towering over everything, like Hulk from the cartoons. Not as big, and definitely more handsome. I felt lucky to be seen with him, better looking than any guy I had seen in a long time.
“Just put.” I finally said, trying to appear serious, even though a smile crossed my face.
He finally made the hole after 3 strokes, I had waited until he had finished because he took up too much space. I took my stance, eyeing the hole critically. “Why so serious?” He mimicked, in the same intonation as The Joker from Batman. I laughed, “Don’t mess up my concentration.” I said, wagging my finger at him. He came over and stood behind me, moving his hands around my hips, “Spread your legs...you know for a better stance.” I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, tapping his foot with my putter, “I think I know what I’m doing..” He smiled, leaning back, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “I think so too.”
I smiled over at him, then looked back at the hole. I made contact with the ball, just hard enough so that it went into the middle hole, he took a breath, “NO!” and we scurried to watch the ball trickle out of the spout and slowly into the hole. I jumped, “Hole in one!” he laughed, picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder, “That’s it! We’re out of here!” he joked, eventually putting me down after he ran with me for a little bit, little kids were giggling and running around us, dazzled by his size. They probably recognized him because the little boys were tugging at their parents shirts.
