October 8th, 2008
JerryAnn
I’m at work, sitting at my desk, which is a dinged and discarded piece of furniture we can’t sell, inside my office which is technically the custom framing shop within the hobby store. Just as I finish arranging next week’s schedule, Gavin taps on my door and opens it.
“Hey, Jerry.” Gavin doesn’t walk. He saunters in as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, which is odd because I’ve never met a man more uptight than him. His hands are in his ironed jeans.
“Hey, Gavin.” We’re keeping things casual…at least that was the agreement we made last night after getting takeout and watching a movie on opposite sides of the couch in the basement of his parent’s house, where he lives.
Gavin sits across from me on a beat up wicker stool. The framing shop is a raised fishbowl five steps higher than the rest of the store. It’s ideal for watching customers and employees, but it’s also perfect for employees and customers to watch the fishbowl. Gavin’s stare makes me uncomfortable, but in the books I read, sometimes the guy looks at the girl like he’s a shark, and she’s his prey. I’d just prefer it if he didn’t look at me that way so close to the cashiers.
“I’m excited for tonight.” Gavin’s words are gentle.
I swallow hard. “Me too.” It’s a blatant lie. It’s been weeks and we still haven’t kissed, and it’s freaking me out. Unsure what the timeline for kissing is, I googled it a few weeks ago, and it turns out there isn’t a timeline. Instead, girls give signals: lick their lips, move close, tilt their head to one side. My lips are chapped from licking, and my neck is sore from moving it like a cockatoo. Gavin and I have been out eight times. Is this how long a gentleman waits? I may not have feelings like normal girls, but I’m not immune to attraction, and Gavin is attractive. Besides, Toby’s getting some, so it seems only fair.
He combs his fingers through his hair, which falls right back into place. “Do you want me to pick you up at your place?”
“Yeah, that would be great.” I’ve answered this question no less than three times and wonder if Gavin is as nervous for tonight as I am. He stands and walks toward the desk. Our shifts end soon. It’s Wednesday, so Dad’s taking care of basketball practice.
“I have a surprise for you,” Gavin whispers.
Now I’m more freaked out about tonight. Gavin’s bought me things: an expensive dinner, flower bouquets, fancy hair things I would never wear. I’ve read enough books and seen enough movies to know if a guy likes you, he buys you stuff, but I’ve seen Gavin’s paycheck. His generosity makes me uncomfortable, and do I want to date a guy who spends all his money on me and will be living with his parents indefinitely?
“Gavin, you don’t have to buy me things.” He shrugs, gives me a half-smile, and then nods to the entrance. I stand up to see where Gavin is looking. “Porcelain Man,” I whisper. We smile at each other. I put my hand on Gavin’s arm. “We have a new selection of porcelain unicorns with gemstone decals in the stockroom. He’ll be thrilled.”
Gavin bolts out of the room, making a beeline for Porcelain Man, the bodybuilder interested in painting and collecting porcelain figurines, and cuts him off. I smile as Gavin and Porcelain Man walk to the stockroom, and I swallow hard with the realization that a kiss from Gavin might be worth waiting for.
“JerryAnn.” Toby’s voice shakes Gavin from my mind.
Toby, hands in his pockets, steps into my office.
“Toby?” It’s almost three. Shouldn’t he be coaching? “Hi?”
He peers around the frame shop. “There’s a school assembly, so I snuck out before practice.” He gazes out at the store through the fishbowl. “Cool view.”
It is a pretty cool view. I watch as Gavin sells a bejeweled porcelain unicorn to Porcelain Man. Toby clears his throat, and I blush knowing Toby was watching me watch Gavin. “Do you guys sell trophies? You know, for our girls?”
The way he said “our girls” puts a smile on my face. “I’m sorry, aside from #1 Dad trophies for Father’s Day, we don’t sell those here. It’s a good idea, but you’ll have better luck at a shop specializing in athletic trophies.”
Toby’s head sags, but he lingers and sits down on the stool. It’s funny—he and Gavin are about the same height seated, but Gavin is all legs while Toby is all torso.
“Thanks for your advice about Rose.” Toby shifts a little in his seat. “You were right about playing it cool. It’s working.” He puts his elbows on his knees and holds his head up with his hands. “It’s embarrassing, but I’m hoping you can help me.”
Something shifted between Toby and me yesterday, after the Cate incident. Instead of skepticism, his warm brown eyes reflect respect, maybe trust. It’s a good change.
“I’d like to buy Rose a present for her birthday, but I don’t want to buy the wrong thing. What do you think?”
It’s not surprising that Toby wants to buy a gift for Rose. What surprises me is he’s coming to me for advice. Most people don’t think of me as female, let alone ask for help in understanding one. When Dr. Reese said he wanted me to feel all the feels, it never occurred to me how good empowerment could feel.
“Well.” I sit down on the beat-up swivel chair and face Toby. “What do you have in mind?”
“She likes jewelry, so I was thinking of buying her a necklace.”
“Whoa, not jewelry, and definitely not a necklace. Not yet. Jewelry screams commitment, and a necklace screams possession. You may as well get her a dog collar and tell her to sit for you.”
Toby nods. Mostly, I hate necklaces. They bounce around when I’m working out, and they’re delicate, and I’m not. “Think about what she’s interested in and then buy her something inexpensive so she doesn’t feel obligated by the gift you give.” Still nodding.
“Okay, I can do that.” He leans forward.
A shipment of cake decorating supplies came in today. I log onto the company computer on the desk and signal for Toby to come over. “She likes baking, right?” He drags himself and his stool up next to me. I pull up the new line of fancy decorative frosting laces and specialty sprinkles and pre-created icing flowers.
Toby’s excited, leaning close to the screen, his arm grazing mine. “You have all of these in the store?” His finger taps the screen on rose-shaped decorative icing. “That’s the one.”
He smells great, and he slips his hand onto the mouse, our fingers brushing against each other, and my heart goes into a cardio workout rhythm.
“It’s perfect.” His left arm reaches around me and pulls me in for a quick side hug.
The office door swings open. “Who are you?” It’s Gavin. Toby and I pull apart and stand, guiltily.
“Gavin.” I rush to Gavin’s side. “This is Toby. He’s who I coach with after school.”
Gavin’s fists clench at his side. “I thought Toby was a middle-aged middle school teacher. You didn’t say he was young and looked like Zorro.”
Toby puts his hand out to shake Gavin’s hand. “Antonio Banderas.” Gavin doesn’t move. “Zorro’s name is Antonio Banderas. I get that a lot, that we look alike, but I’m fatter.” Toby grabs his torso to prove it. I’d laugh, but it isn’t funny because the tension is thick. Gavin’s face is red, his Adam’s apple bobs, and there’s a vein in his neck I’ve never seen before. He glances from me to Toby and back again, and he’s unraveling like yarn, which is on aisle seven.
Gavin reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, pulls out a jewelry box, and shoves it in my direction. “I want you to open this.” His words are forced and fast. He’s blocking the door, leaving a red-faced Toby stuck in the room with us.
“I can open it later.” I’m mortified. This is one of Dr. Reese’s feels I’d rather avoid.
“No. Open it now.” He pushes the jewelry box into my hands.
I don’t want to do this. Not only are we on display to Toby, but everyone in the store can see us. Gavin’s ex, Beth, stands in the floral department, watching like we’re a soap opera. Gavin glances at Beth, then over at Toby, then nods at me, and I open the box. It contains a gold necklace chain, the fragile kind, with a gold heart and three diamonds on one side.
I hate necklaces, and I hate that Toby knows my thoughts on necklaces, and I hate that the air in the room is heavy. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper, peering down at the necklace, and then Gavin’s feet hit my toes, and my head moves straight up, smacking Gavin in the nose with my forehead.
The hit to his nose doesn’t stop his progress, he dives into my lips with insistence, his teeth hitting mine, but he’s undeterred. And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, he wraps his arms around me, pinning my arms between us with the necklace in my hands. He’s breathing heavily through his nose and his eyes are closed, but mine are open.
I push him off and step back. “What was that?” There are no words. I did not give him any signals. Did I look like a cockatoo? There was no lip-licking on my part, and I was not in close proximity. I take a few breaths, reminding myself that Gavin is as emotionally clueless as I am. Toby slips out the door, silent.
“What were you thinking?” I whisper to Gavin, gesturing to the eyes on the floor staring at us.
Gavin shrugs. “I didn’t like how he looked at you.” He fidgets with his thumbs in his pockets, the rest of his fingers brushing his khaki pants.
“You don’t like how he looked at me, so you forced me to kiss you? In the fishbowl? In front of Toby and the whole store?”
I pull Gavin into the corner, where large frames hang on long metal hooks. It’s the only corner of the office free from most prying eyes.
“I didn’t know what to do.” Gavin’s face is red, and his whole body is tense, from the creases in his forehead to his feet planted under his locked knees. “I thought Toby was hitting on you.” He doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Toby and I aren’t dating. We’re friends.” I step closer to him. His cologne is nice, sporty, not as good as Toby’s, but good.
Gavin’s eyes are vulnerable, panicked, and insecure. He lifts his gaze to my lips. “Can I try that again?”
He wants to kiss me. In the past I would have kicked him where it hurt and walked away, but I want this to work. Gavin is different. He’s trying. He’s interested enough to fight for me in the fishbowl. Besides, wasn’t a kiss from him what I wanted? I tilt my head, lick my lips and lean into Gavin. It’s a soft, tender, short kiss.
Gavin relaxes, and his breathing slows. “Thanks,” he says. He leans in, kissing me again, gently. We step out of the frames, and Gavin gestures to the jewelry box in my pocket. “Can I put it on you?” I hand him the necklace, which he unclasps. I turn around, and his hand circles my neck, then cold metal rests against my skin. He gives me a quick peck on the neck that sends a shiver down my spine.
I clock out and head to the parking lot, smiling despite the necklace. I’m almost to my car before I spot Toby leaning against my driver’s side door.