5 Xavier
5
XAVIER
I NODDED AT the cherry in my glass. “You want mine?”
“You don’t like them?” she asked.
I did like them. I handed her the toothpick anyway. I liked her more.
We’d just had dinner. She’d enjoyed these cheese popovers they served and I’d gone down twice to get her another one.
I felt like a bird bringing a potential mate little gifts. The urge was surprisingly strong. I’d worried over what to get her right up until I got to her apartment and handed her the succulent. Not that I had to show up with something, but for some reason with her I wanted to.
The sun was setting. It was warm and the breeze on the top deck was pleasant. Not enough to dry my shorts unfortunately, but nice enough. Thankfully I had a high threshold for discomfort.
“Thanks,” she said, taking my toothpick and sliding it between her teeth.
I thought about going down to the bar and getting her a bowl of cherries. I had to talk myself out of it. I was afraid of overkill.
Samantha had pulled her hair over her shoulder and braided it to keep the wind from whipping it around. Her skin was sun kissed and her dress hugged her in all the right places.
I was with the most beautiful woman on this boat. And she was funny too. Intelligent. In fact there wasn’t anything about her that I didn’t like. And why when she mentioned the semiprofessional baseball player did I immediately wonder how I measured up?
“I’m going to run to the ladies’ room,” she said, setting down her drink. “I’ll be right back.”
I watched her go.
While I was waiting I opened up Instagram and found Murkle’s Mustard. The last post was a graphic with a picture of their bottle that read:
This mustard just got 1 million likes on Instagram and you can’t even get a text back.
I snorted.
Then I went to the comments. The top one said, “ Mustard is gross tho fr ” and Murkle’s Mustard replied, “ Oh, you don’t like mustard? Grow up. ”
The comment from Samantha had fifty thousand likes and the whole comment thread was laughing emojis.
I had never in my life felt compelled to follow a mustard brand until today. I hit follow.
I looked at my watch. The cruise was almost over. It ended at nine, then I guess I’d have to take her home.
I didn’t want to take her home.
I started googling ice cream places, thinking maybe we could go do that when we’re docked, but as soon as I started, the cruise staff began setting out desserts. I’d have to find something else. I wanted to have an idea before she came back so I did the desperate thing. I texted the group chat for my best friends Jesse, Mike, and Chris.
ME: Need ideas for places to take a date tonight, not ice cream, not food, open late. Urgent.
Jesse replied immediately with Hotel?
Mike responded with a laughing emoji and then Movie?
Not a movie. I wanted to talk to her.
A second later Chris came through with a link to a miniature golf place open until 1:00 a.m. on Fridays. Mother Putters.
I clicked on it. Cheap beer and pizza, arcade, laser tag, hokey golf courses.
I hated places like that, but I’d hate dropping her off more.
I saw her coming from the bathroom from the side of my eye and slipped my phone back in my pocket.
“You know what they had in the ladies’ room?” she said, sitting down. “This little ancient Pomeranian who doesn’t like men, so they put him in the women’s bathroom to meet people.”
“That’s Renegade. He’s fourteen.”
“Does he like you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She smiled. “Of course he does.”
I cleared my throat. “The boat docks in ten minutes. I was wondering if you’d like to play some miniature golf after this. There’s a place in—”
“Yes. I’d love to.”
The corner of my lip quirked.
“Do you mind if we stop at my apartment so I can change?” I said.
“Are you still wet?” she asked, looking sorry.
“A little. It’s fine. You can stay in the car. I don’t expect you to come in.”
“What if I want to come in?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Do you?”
“I want to see what your place looks like,” she said.
“I wasn’t expecting company.”
“That’s the point. You didn’t have time to clean between getting off work and picking me up so I’m seeing you in your natural habitat.”
I thought about it. “Can I have a ten-second start?”
“No. You can hide a lot of stuff in ten seconds. Wedding photos, clown costumes, ridiculous amounts of flip phones that you have absolutely no explanation for—”
I smirked. “Flip phones? You think I’m a drug dealer?”
“I think if you were you’d one hundred percent swipe those into a drawer before I got there to see it.”
“I think I’d prefer to stash the clown costume first, but that’s just me.”
She laughed.
I didn’t have anything in my apartment that she couldn’t see. Maybe a few dishes in the sink or a wet towel that fell off the rack. I’d still like to be able to show her the best version of it though. Oh well.
Thirty minutes later we were at my place. My dog met us at the door.
“Who’s this?” she asked, crouching to pet him.
“This is Jake,” I said. “From State Farm.”
She laughed and pet him.
“Give me five minutes,” I said. “Feel free to look for clown costumes.”
I left for my room. The marina wasn’t exactly the cleanest water the lake had to offer so I decided to take a quick shower. I threw on fresh clothes, messed with my hair, brushed my teeth, and came back out. She was sitting on my sofa with Jake’s head in her lap.
“You only have French’s mustard in your fridge,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning in the doorway. “I’ll do better next time.”
“I hope so. It’s all fun and games until you ruin your wiener.”
I coughed out a laugh.
She was smiling. “I like your dog,” she said. “Weird haircut though.”
“Did you find any burner phones?”
“I didn’t. And I really looked too. Your place is nice. But you’re not here much, right?”
“Not really.”
She put out her lower lip. “Poor Jake.”
“I take him to work now. It’s not ideal. Hoping nobody recognizes him.”
“Put a pink bandanna on him,” she said. “In case someone takes a picture. Throw the mafia off the tracks.”
“Not a bad idea.” I looked at my watch. It was almost 9:45.
She was in her summer dress still. She hadn’t brought a sweater. I didn’t know if the place would be chilly. I turned back to my room and grabbed a hoodie for her. “Ready?” I asked, handing it to her.
There was a small moment where she didn’t move, and I almost wanted to ask if she just wanted to stay here. I could make us drinks, we could sit outside on the patio… anything really. But I worried that was too forward and she’d feel trapped or like I’d planned to get her here, so I didn’t say anything. I drove us to Mother Putters instead.
I couldn’t tell you why, but the second I got out of the car something felt off. Some deep, strange foreboding premonition. When we walked inside, I found out what was causing it.
My friends were here. Every single one.