Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Michelle
Seventeen weeks pregnant
Mich,
Throw on something comfy. We’ll be walking a little bit and be outside, but with airflow.
I’ll be back at 5:30. We’ll leave then.
Hunter
I read the note over once more, excitement tingling in my stomach. Wait, was that excitement? I pause for a second, hand on my stomach, hoping it isn’t the beginnings of the second trimester morning sickness I read about on the bus this morning. After a beat, I’m more certain of my excitement assessment and go to my room to change.
Right after Hunter’s parents’ visit, the winds shifted and smoke from wildfires in Eastern Canada started to float into the atmosphere of the East Coast. This meant diving into extra posts and videos for the station’s weather blog, sharing apps to check air quality, interviewing experts, recommending masks, and keeping folks updated. Typical American attitude, not paying any attention until something impacts us.
With all his busyness, Hunter hadn’t mentioned the idea of us going on a date again. At least I assume that’s why it didn’t get brought up and not because he changed his mind. But the winds had shifted again over the weekend, and last night, he asked for my schedule in the evenings this week.
It feels a little silly, to be so eagerly anticipating spending time outside the apartment with someone I spend hours with everyday inside the apartment. I decide not to examine it too closely and get changed. Some relief from the oppressive DC humidity also arrived today, right on schedule with my forecast from last week. Still, with a human inside me the size of an orange, I seem to experience temperatures in a different way than the rest of the world. I’m a little nervous about spending so much time outside, but given Hunter’s promise of airflow and the sun setting in a couple hours, I’m ready to risk it.
I’m examining my outfit of black biker shorts and tank top, trying to decide what to do with my hair when the door opens at the front of the apartment.
“Hello?” Hunter calls.
I look at the clock on my bedside table. “You’re seven minutes early. I’m not late.”
He appears in my doorway, hands behind his back. “You’d be worth the wait, but you’re right. Trains and cross walks were in my favor.”
“What grocery stores did you map out today?” I ask, moving past him into the bathroom. He angles his body to keep his back out of my sight.
“I did a few in Chinatown this afternoon. I needed to swing by Duncan’s office to grab our tickets for tonight.”
I stick my head into the hallway, noting how pleased Hunter looks. “Tickets? ”
“Here.” He holds out what’s in his right hand toward me. I take the bundle of blue and red cloth. The curly W on both items comes into focus.
“Nats gear. Are we going to a game?” I say, my excitement rising to meet Hunter’s.
He nods. “We are. We’re using Duncan’s seats on the suite level. I bought the hats so we’d have some team spirit, but he had the jerseys waiting when I stopped in.” He rolls his eyes in the fond way you have when a loved one is predictably over the top.
“Walk a bit, outdoors, but with airflow. I should have guessed a Nats game,” I say, fitting the hat on my head and shrugging on the jersey. Hair question solved. “I can’t believe Duncan has tickets available on such a short notice.”
Hunter has put on his jersey too, and my eyes are drawn to the way the red sleeves offset the bright colors of the tattoos covering the rest of his arms.
“What’s this one?” I ask, pointing at a tattoo near his wrist I haven’t heard the story about yet.
“Well, it’s a humpback whale,” he says, his eyes glancing up to meet mine, before looking back down at the tattoo.
I nod. “I assumed an aquatic mammal, but didn’t want to guess the wrong one. Is there a story behind it?”
Hunter keeps his eyes on the art, a whale under crashing waves, his finger stroking across it once. “Humpback whales communicate via these haunting and eerie songs. Some scientists are pretty sure they’re for mating. Sometimes they sing near where they’re feeding. There’s probably a lot we’ll never know about what they’re trying to say. I’ve felt a lot like that at some points. I’m communicating but haven’t found the right person to listen to me. To understand.”
He looks up at me, his eyes open and vulnerable with the parts of him he laid bare for me. Mine start to water with the trust he’s showing me.
“That’s really beautiful. I’d ...” I take a deep breath in, wanting to return his vulnerability with some of my own. “I’d like to learn your whale songs. Find out what they mean.”
We stand in silence for a moment, our eyes locked.
After a beat, Hunter clears his throat. “We should probably head out.”
I nod. “Sure thing. Let me go grab my belt bag.”
As I walk toward my room, I hear him mutter. “Thank God.”
“What?” I ask, slinging the bag strap over my shoulder and walking past him again to head to the door.
“Oh, I thought it would be criminal if your jersey covered your ass in those shorts. Luckily, it doesn’t.”
My back still facing Hunter, my cheeks pinch from the smile that breaks across my face. I school it into something hopefully resembling scolding when I turn around to face him. “You talk to all your first dates with that mouth?”
“First? This is our third date,” he says, locking the door behind me as we start toward the Metro.
“How do you figure?” I ask, adjusting the bill of my hat, wishing I’d grabbed my sunglasses.
I look up and Hunter is holding said sunglasses out to me. “Well, the night we met has to count as date one. I did cook you a meal.” I laugh and he continues. “And then the night you told me about little Cumulus, definitely date number two. Possibly even more memorable.” He grabs my hand as we enter a cross walk.
“Date number three it is then,” I say, and give up on containing my grin when I see Hunter sporting a matching one.
“I knew you’d see it my way.” He lets me onto the escalator taking us down to the Dupont Circle Station first and stands behind me. I turn to look at him as we descend underground. The late-afternoon sunlight glows around his outline, and I’m thankful once more he grabbed my sunglasses. I can’t seem to look away.
“ I ’m just saying, if every team raced something during the game, it would really bring something to the in-person experience,” I say as Hunter unlocks our front door after the game.
“We watched two Cy Young winners engage in a pitching duel, and you’re still focused on the racing presidents?”
“I mean, is it really a duel if there are no shots fired? There weren’t any hits until the eighth inning. That’s boring!” I drop onto the couch and accept the bottle of water Hunter hands me a moment later. I take a few swallows before saying, “You’re right. The cotton candy was a mistake.”
He laughs. “I’ll always support you to eat whatever you want. It seemed a little dicey mixed on top of the loaded tater tots, nachos, and ice cream.”
“I’ll blame Cumulus for the spun sugar. They couldn’t pass up a food that looked light and fluffy, just like them. Though to be honest, they wanted the nachos and ice cream too.”
“But the tater tots?”
“Oh, those were all for me,” I say with a laugh before drinking more water. “Thanks for getting me this, by the way.”
“Of course,” he says. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a better time.” A flash of disappointment crosses his face.
I sit up. “What? I had a great time.”
“You did?” He looks uncertain. “But you thought the game was boring, and now you don’t feel well, and?—”
“Hunt,” I say, leaning toward him. “I’m seventeen weeks pregnant. I can feel crappy after ten hours of sleep and spending the day sitting on the couch. And the game being so low scoring allowed me to do more people watching. If it didn’t, I would have never spotted that couple.”
He smiles at the memory. “I can’t believe you called he was going to propose. The way they were fighting the whole game, I thought they were more likely headed for a break up.”
I shrug. “Maybe fighting is foreplay for them. She seemed pretty enthusiastic about her yes.” I laugh at the memory of her jumping into his arms and spilling the beer of the guy sitting behind her.
“But, back to the point,” I say. “I had a great time. You planned something special for me, made sure it was somewhere I would be comfortable, and supported my questionable food choices, even trying to save me from myself. Great third date.” I meet his eyes at the end and hold them for a moment.
He breaks the eye contact first. “Well, you have an early morning, and I’ve got a meeting with Duncan and Hayden at nine. Can I walk you to your door?”
I look behind me at the front door locked and dead bolted behind us before looking back at him. “That door?”
He shakes his head before offering me his hand and helping me off the couch. “No, that one.” He jerks his thumb at my bedroom door.
“Oh, well then, of course. What a gentleman,” I tease as we walk down the hallway hand in hand. Any trace of humor dies in my throat when I meet his gaze at the entrance to my room. His eyes are dark and serious.
“Thank you for tonight. I know we hang out here a lot, but I loved being out, laughing with you, throwing dirty looks at other guys who checked out your ass.”
The humor returns as a laugh bubbles up. “They did not.”
He nods solemnly. “They did. You don’t have eyes in the back of your head, so you can’t see. My caveman brain says next time I’ll get a jersey that covers your ass, so I’m the only one who gets to see it, here in our home. But my more rational brain says I could never dull the way you shine.”
I’m left speechless as he reaches up to spin my hat so the bill is at the back of my head, matching his. He leans down slowly and my eyes close right before his lips brush mine, once, twice, and then they’re gone. I lean forward trying to chase the contact, my eyes blinking open as I rock back flat onto my feet.
“Goodnight,” he says, his hand tracing down my arm, squeezing mine once before trailing his fingers across my palm and walking to his room, the door closing behind him. I stare at the closed door for a moment before going about my nighttime routine, unable to forget the way it felt when his lips brushed mine. Of course, I’ve felt his lips there, and many other places before, but this was different. This time, he knows my name, my favorite foods, how I sound when I sing in the shower.
Later, when I’m in bed for the night, I hear his door open again and realize he waited to head into the bathroom, so it would mirror the end of a date between two people who don’t sleep with only a wall separating them.
I brush my hands over my lips with the same feather light touch Hunter used earlier.
This time, he kissed me like it meant more.