27. Rhodes
27
Rhodes
I t’s Sunday, and in order to avoid waiting around for Paige’s call, I woke up early to get to the gym. I played pickleball with the wall for a while, lifted some weights until that wasn’t enough, and decided to run a casual five miles on the treadmill.
I can’t remember the last time I ran that much, but it was warranted.
I thought getting my mind off the photo and having a conversation with Paige about it was the only thing I’d wake up worried about today. Or the fact I’m a chump who can’t seem to handle himself when a woman sends a nude.
Well, I can’t.
Because this is Paige .
But regardless of how difficult it is to get out of the shower after working out, careful not to touch or linger any place while soaping up, all I’m thinking about is her .
Not the her from the photo, but the her that I hope made it home okay last night after her drunken call. I could barely make out her words through the heavy slur, and her friend Samantha kept asking how I feel about things like a shrink. I’m guessing it was some kind of inside joke between them since it sent Paige into a fit of giggles every time, especially when Samantha asked if I’d be paying by check or card.
There wasn’t a reason for the call that I could tell. And even though I told Paige to text me when she got back to her van safely, I never heard from her. So, my mind went to the worst-case scenarios, obviously.
Trampled by wild animals.
Stolen by a cowboy.
Thrown into prison.
Or—my personal hell—in a hospital somewhere.
I tell myself what my new therapist encouraged when I started feeling worded up: breathe. I've only had one session, but so far, it's helping me process the things I can't control. It's the first time I've ever seen someone, but luckily, he's had plenty of patients like me.
So, I breathe in. And when I count to seven and exhale, I breathe in again.
The dressing room has quite a few people in it despite it being Sunday, but I barely notice them while I change and towel dry my hair. Slinging my gym bag over my shoulder, I toss my towel in the bin by the exit and trudge to the swinging front doors to get to the elevator. My finger isn’t even off the button for floor five when Paige’s name lights up my phone screen.
I inhale through my nose to relax first, then I quickly answer. “Paige.”
“Sorry it took so long to call,” she starts. “I woke up on Samantha’s floor, and it took three eggs, bacon, and an ungodly amount of coffee to come alive again. I’m on the road now, so if you hear me curse, it’s because the sun is being annoyingly bright.”
I lean against the back wall of the elevator, bracing a hand on the bar, relieved she’s safe and wasn’t recruited by a rodeo circuit. “You had a good birthday celebration then?”
“I did. Samantha really made it a good one. You know, despite the hangover.”
“It sounded like you had a good time.” The elevator steadily climbs as silence fills the line. “Do you remember anything about last night?”
“Nope,” she says, but doesn’t continue.
“Nothing?” I’m glad her night was prison-free.
The doors split, opening up to my floor. The thin carpet squares mute any sound my footfalls make, but I’m not sure I can say the same about my heart currently thundering in my chest. I know the conversation about the photo is coming.
“I mean…I remember dinner, the drinks, the story of Samantha’s first kiss. There were three guys involved, which I’m finding is a thing for her, but it’s too early to revisit that one.” The music she has playing softly in the background cuts off. “Just out of curiosity, did I…say anything to you? Like information that would be best said when I’m not drunk?”
I slip my key into the lock and turn. “Like when you asked me to lie down and tell you all of my fears?”
“Not that…more like personal things.”
I wrack my brain to try and remember every piece of our conversation, which I’ve been doing all morning, but I can’t think of anything she might have said that she clearly wishes she hadn’t.
“Can’t remember anything personal unless you consider inviting your Uber driver to your birthday party as personal.” I’m trying really hard not to laugh. “But I’ve got time now if you wanted to tell me.”
“No!” she shouts. “Nope…no, I’m good. I should…you know. Let me get back to you on that.”
A small laugh escapes me. “Alright. Top secret, got it.”
There’s so much more I want to ask, but she’ll tell me if she really wants to. My thoughts keep moving to the enormous conversation we should have. Another long pause persists as I drop my keys and bag and move directly for the fridge to make a smoothie.
“About last night,” she says. “The first part where I wasn’t delusional.”
My entire body ignites, and I immediately expect the worst. “Yeah?”
Did my voice just squeak?
“I’m sorry for sending you that photo without…context.”
Context, yes. “Mhm.”
She sighs and continues. “After talking to Samantha about it, I realized some things. First, I don’t think I’ve allowed myself to be known by someone—vulnerable and all that. I’ve been waiting for things to change for me when I could probably go after it more. You’re just so put together. Like a complete adult who knows how to do taxes and clean out their car. I want to be better for you,” she says somberly, “and me.”
I can barely breathe. “You really think this about me? Paige, I’m the one who doesn’t feel worthy. You are…everything. All of the good and beautiful things in this life. You have a perspective I dream of. A way of holding things loosely and rolling with any change that comes. I’m nowhere close to being as flexible as you are. I could stand for living a little more and controlling every aspect of my life a lot less.”
She stutters when she speaks. “I-I didn’t know you thought all of this about me.”
A problem I want to remedy. “I spent too much time not telling you a lot of things. A fact I regret.”
“It’s not like I made it easy on you. I ran away, and I realize now that a part of me needed to do this to come to the conclusions I have, but I don’t want to keep running away. I know I’ve got room to grow, things to figure out. But what I’m trying to say is that I’m not very good at fully opening myself up. I don’t even know what that looks like, but I want to try. I guess that’s why I sent you that picture. I want to reach out, but I don’t know how. I think I was vulnerable in the wrong ways. So, I’m sorry.”
“First off, there’s no need to apologize for the photo.”
“Really?” she presses.
“I mean, we pushed things further than we ever have before, but that doesn’t warrant an apology. I don’t ever want you to feel you have to apologize for being vulnerable in any capacity.” I pace my kitchen, smoothie forgotten. “I just didn’t know if it was for the hell of it or because you were ready to be with me . Once I had a chance to think, I realized I didn’t want this just to be physical. I’ll wait for however long you need me to until you figure things out, but please know that there isn’t a single thing you could do that would change my mind about you. I love who you are today.” Warmth floods my body. “I love the Paige who wears nothing and makes every part of me painfully turned on.”
“Painfully, huh?”
“You have no fucking idea.”
She laughs. “Maybe a little.”
“I love the Paige who also chooses to sew a full outfit on a whim. I fell for the woman who rewatches Parks and Rec episodes, laughing at the same scenes like it’s the first time she’s seen them. You’re the woman I want to tell everything to and know everything about. There isn’t a second I stop thinking about you, which I’m starting to wonder if I should at least have a minute to think about other things.”
She giggles from her end of the line, but I feel it in every pore.
“I want all of you,” I admit, feeling more free than I have in weeks. “The known and unknown. The messy and undecided parts that make you human. You don’t have to figure out your life on your own, Paige. I’m not scared off by the question marks. ”
The soft sniffles on her end of the line make it sound like she’s crying or at least holding back tears. “I want you, too. I want us to try this together, but I may not be good at loving you or have life fully figured out like you. I want you to teach me.”
My fist punches through the air, the smile on my face so wide, I can’t hide the elation in my voice. “I can do that. As long as you promise to teach me how to loosen up a little.”
“Deal.” She laughs. “Are you fist-punching the air?”
“Maybe.” A smile lights my entire face, my entire self.
I have a chance—a shot with Paige. It’s what I’ve always wanted. And now I’m holding it. The bid for connection and openness isn’t lost. I hold it reverently with both hands.
We talk until her service gets spotty and the drive becomes so windy that she has to focus on the road. So, for safety’s sake, we reluctantly hang up, and for the first time since I discovered I had feelings for this woman, my heart seems at peace, no longer wandering through a remote desert without water. I’m immersed in these new emotions and even newer revelations.
Paige is my person, and despite there being more we have to sort in ourselves, I’m convinced—delusional even—that we can.
I just wish it could've stayed this way.