5. There She Goes
CHAPTER FIVE
there she goes
IMOGEN
“So, tell me again how come you need to borrow the car?”
Last night, Logan and I stayed up way too late, eating junk food and drinking one too many beers. We got into that deep, drunken state of conversation about life and what it all means. My brother gets very philosophical when he’s drunk, and it’s only been recently that I’ve been able to keep up with how fast his mind works.
I swallow my cereal, not wanting to give too much away. There’s no way in hell I’m telling Logan I’m going to hang out with a guy who’s almost twice my age to see if he’d be a good submissive-slash-fuck buddy. Logan’s protective of me, but I’m a big girl and I’ve been doing this for a long time.
“Piper, Jay, and I are going into Seattle for the weekend.”
“I thought you’d want to explore Emerald Bay.”
“I thought we kind of covered that when you said it takes 15 minutes to drive from one end of town to the other,” I tease. “Jay wants to see some band, so we’re making a weekend of it.”
Lying to him doesn’t feel good, but I want to get laid. Piper and Jay really are going to a concert, I just opted not to go with them.
“Do you even have a license?” Logan asks with a raised brow.
I feign shock.
“How can you even ask me that?”
“Uh, remember when you showed up at the airport with your expired passport?”
Not this shit again.
“It wasn’t that expired.”
“Two years, Iggy!”
I roll my eyes. I’m a forgetful person and I forgot to renew my passport and couldn’t go to Mexico with Logan and my mom. They’ve never let me forget that . If I don’t write things down, I’m fucked. The problem is, most of the time, I forget where I put the fucking list of shit I need to remember. I’ve tried my notes app and scheduling apps on my phone, but nothing really works.
I’ve tried medication, too, but it makes me crash hard. So, I’m managing my condition on my own now.
“I swear I have a license. I’m reckless, but I’m not a total idiot, Logan.” I bat my eyelashes. “ Please let me borrow your car?”
He sighs.
“Take the Toyota. It’s old.”
“Why can’t I take the Jaguar?” I ask. “Don’t think I didn’t see that thing parked in the driveway.”
Logan likes to fix up shitty cars in his spare time. He buys them cheap from people who want to junk them and puts every penny he can spare into them. By the time he’s finished, they don’t look anything like they did when they first graced his garage. Logan’s always liked to take things apart and put them back together again. I think that’s what makes him a good researcher. Everything’s a puzzle to him.
“No way,” he laughs. “That’s my baby.”
“Come on, dude! Let me look cool for once!”
Logan shakes his head and I already know I’ve lost this fight.
“You’re taking the Toyota,” he says firmly. “I just fixed it up, new paint job, gave it a tune-up, new tires, new plates. It’s good to go.”
“Great, I can drive around looking like a fucking soccer mom,” I grumble.
“They drive vans, dipshit.”
“Fair.” I sigh dramatically. “Thanks, Logan.”
“No problem. I’m just bummed out you’re ditching me already.”
I snort.
“Well, I am an adult and I’m allowed to have a life.”
“Yeah, the SpongeBob pajamas really sell it,” he mutters.
“Hey, fuck you!” I laugh. “And you have no right calling me out like this. You still had Star Wars bedsheets until last year.”
“I know,” he chuckles as he reaches over to ruffle my hair. “I’m just teasing you. It’s really nice to have you here, Iggy.”
“Yeah, you’re pretty okay too.”
He kicks me under the table, causing the milk in my cereal bowl to slosh out.
“Dude! Watch your gangly spider legs!” I yelp as I grab a napkin and mop it up.
Logan sips his coffee, staring at me like he’s trying to figure me out. I wonder if he knows I’m lying about this weekend.
Or if he cares.
I clear my throat and take another spoonful, desperate to change the subject.
“What are you up to this weekend?”
“I’ve gotta finish the syllabus for this ethics course I’m teaching,” he grumbles. “I still have to track down six more articles and figure out an assignment that’s not a paper. I wish they could just make a diorama and call it a day, you know?”
Ethics are every academic’s worst nightmare. You think you have a great methodology, and then you have to contend with the board. We all get how important it is, but it’s still a minefield to navigate, and there’s so much you have to think about.
“Sounds thrilling.” I pause. “I thought you’d be hanging out with Abi.”
Abi’s the only one of Logan’s friends that I’ve met, or even seen. Other than his goofy selfies and pictures of fall foliage, he’s not one for social media. But last year, he brought Abi for Christmas dinner after her mom decided to go on one of those insane six month cruises. They definitely looked like they were more than just friends.
“Why?”
“Because you’re close,” I reply with a grin.
His eyes narrow.
“I don’t like the way you said that.”
“How long’s it been since you dated?”
Logan drains his coffee and stands up, heading for the sink to rinse out his mug.
“I don’t have time to date. I’m too busy.”
I can tell by the way his shoulders are practically hunched up around his ears that he doesn’t want to talk about it.
“Okay, that’s cool.”
I finish my breakfast and my coffee, and help Logan clean the kitchen. He’s not charging me rent so that I can save up to find my own place. I am, however, helping to pay the utility bills, going halfsies on groceries, and doing my part to keep the house clean.
After breakfast, I head back down to my room to get a head start on some reading I have to do. In undergrad, I wouldn’t start this shit until the first day of the first semester, but grad school is a totally different ballgame. You have to walk in prepared on the first day, and it’s not just articles, it’s full blown books.
Huge fucking books, and they’re definitely not as interesting as the romance novels that line my shelves. It makes focusing next to impossible.
I sit at my new desk, pouring over Foucault and making notes when my phone buzzes, instantly pulling my focus away from what I should be doing. Honestly, I’m grateful for the distraction.
HENRY: Still on for mini golf tonight?
JADE: Of course! Looking forward to meeting you in person.
HENRY: You too.
He sends me a selfie and my jaw almost hits my desk.
HENRY: Just so you know who you’re looking for. Hard to recognize a chest.
I’m giggling and spinning in my chair as I stare at the picture. He’s got a rugged quality to him that makes butterflies swarm my stomach. Dark, messy hair, a long straight nose, and a lot of gray in his temples and his beard. But it’s his eyes that really catch me. They’re a warm hazel surrounded by crow’s feet. For some reason I think he’d have a great laugh, something that puts you instantly at ease.
I text Piper the selfie, the details of our meetup, and his profile. It’s partially bragging rights, and partially a safety measure.
PIPES: Uhhh you’re banging him, right?
IMOGEN: I think it would be a disservice to humanity if I didn’t. I just hope he’s not a weirdo.
PIPES: If he is, just hit him with a club. Problem solved!
PIPES: I’ll have my phone on all night. Text if you need, and be safe! If you need a place to crash, we rented an AirBnB for the weekend.
She sends me the address and the key code for the door. I smile, wondering what I’d do without a friend like Piper.
The sky looks like a watercolor painting with streaks of pink and orange spread out across an endless horizon. I’ve missed driving like this, with the windows down and fresh air filling my lungs. When I was at NYU, I used to drive Upstate and back just to think. I’m pretty sure I dictated ninety percent of my master’s thesis with my foot on the gas while I screamed along to my playlists. It was a bitch to edit out all those song lyrics in the transcription, but in the end, it was worth it.
When I make it into Seattle, it’s only another 10 minutes until I spot Lucky Strokes mini golf. There were a couple of other options, but this had the funniest name. I pull into the parking lot and kill the engine, pulling the sun visor down to make sure my hair and makeup still look decent. There’s a bit of glitter smeared on my eyelids and perfectly carved wing liner with a pop of nude lipgloss. My hair is pulled back into two tiny buns on top of my head and my septum ring looks extra shiny in the light.
I look cute— casual, but cute. I chose a pair of tight blue jeans, a white crop top, and a soft purple hoodie that’s a couple of shades darker than my hair. This isn’t a date, so there’s no point in going all out, but I still wanted to look presentable.
As I grab my stuff and climb out of the car, I hear a gravelly voice behind me.
“Jade?”
I turn my head, greeted with an image that’s so much better than that selfie he sent me.
Henry’s got to be at least 6’4”, and he has the most bashful smile, his cheeks flushing when he sees me. In photos, he was hot, but in person, he makes my whole body feel like jelly. He’s in a beaten up leather jacket and a pair of faded black jeans with a black v-neck t-shirt that exposes the tattoos on his chest.
This guy is exactly my type, and to top it all off, he’s standing beside a black Thunderbird.
“Y— yeah,” I stammer, quickly trying to regain my composure as I slide my phone back into my pocket. “I assume you’re Henry?”
“Hope I’m not too disappointing,” he chuckles.
I like a bit of self-deprecation, but there’s nothing about this man that’s disappointing to look at.
He takes a step toward me and stretches out his arm to shake my hand.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
His hand is warm and I’m trying to carefully breathe through my nervousness. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes me want to burst into giggles and twirl my hair like an idiot.
“You changed your hair,” he remarks, yanking me out of my thoughts.
“What?”
“You were blonde in your pictures.” He starts to stammer as I smile. “Not that— that’s a bad thing or anything— I like— I like the hair. I like all kinds of hair— Sorry, is it obvious I haven’t done this in a long time?”
“What, talked to a woman, or…”
“Oof. That’s rough,” he chuckles as the blush in his cheeks deepens.
“I’m kidding!” I exclaim before realizing that the two of us are still shaking hands. “This shit’s awkward, I get it.”
“You’re tellin’ me,” he sighs as we break the handshake and he runs his fingers through his hair, messing it up a little more.
The more I look at this guy, the more I wonder what he’d look like tied to a hotel bed.
“Come on, let’s play some mini golf and get to know each other,” I offer. “We can ease into the other stuff.”
As we head for the entrance, I immediately text Piper.
IMOGEN: He’s even hotter in person. I’ll keep you updated if anything weird goes down.
We pay the entrance fee and head inside. The place looks like a theme park, and each of the 18 holes has a different vibe. As we line up for our equipment, Henry seems really nervous, his eyes dancing around and taking everything in.
“Do you wanna bail?” I ask. “I don’t mind. I can golf by myself.”
“No! No, it’s…” He hangs his head. “Look, I wasn’t joking when I said it’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this. Mostly, I just go to work and go home.”
“Well, everyone needs a change of pace, right?” I ask as we get to the front of the line.
He nods and we rent a couple of clubs and a small basket of golf balls. The place is a little empty, but then again, it’s a Tuesday night.
“So who goes first?” Henry asks as we approach the first hole.
“Rock, paper, scissors?”
I stick out my hand and he does the same, the two of us shaking our fists three times, and he throws out paper while I end up with scissors. Henry groans, tipping his head up to the sky as he laughs.
“I was so sure you were gonna pick rock!”
“Why did you think that?”
“You’ve just got a rock… vibe,” he chuckles and then winces.
“What’s a rock vibe?” I laugh, arching a brow.
“I don’t really know. Kind of cool, uh… I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know what other qualities rocks have.”
“ Kind of cool?” I tease, elbowing him a little to help ease the tension.
I think I’m actually making it worse.
“You’re killin’ me, Jade.”
I didn’t expect this kind of bashfulness from a guy who looks like him. There’s a lack of confidence in his posture that feels alien. But I bet when he’s really comfortable around someone, he’s relaxed and assertive. I’d like to see that.
I gently tap my club against his.
“You can go first.”
“No, no. You won fair and square. Show me those mini golf skills.”
The first hole has two giant soccer balls stationed as obstacles and you have to bounce your ball off of one of them in order to get it anywhere near the hole. I take a step back and swing hard, and the ball goes flying, bouncing off of one of the soccer balls and then into a little pond.
Henry turns to me with a sly smile, and a gleam in his eyes.
“Wow, it was your idea so I kind of assumed you’d be good at mini golf.”
“Look, you almost gave your bank account information to a sex bot. I don’t think you’re in a place to judge me.”
He chuckles and jogs after the ball.
“It’s fine!” I laugh. “We have other ones!”
He ignores me, getting down on his knees and reaching out with his tiny golf club to pull the ball toward him, fishing it out of the pond. When he drops the ball into my palm, his fingers gently brush against mine. I swear I feel sparks, and my stomach flips as he takes a step backward. His club is way too small for him to actually lean on, so he rests it on his shoulder like he’s holding a baseball bat. I line my shot up and try again.
“Try hitting it with a little less force this time,” he says, taking a step behind me and leaning in, his lips just barely brushing my ear. “Might help there, sweetheart.”
I shiver at the sudden boldness and glance over my shoulder as he steps back.
“You’re a bit of a brat.”
“Is that bad?” He asks.
“Not at all.” I grin. “I know how to tame brats.”
I hit the ball again, this time sinking it into the hole in one. Henry applauds behind me, and I hold my club above my head, spinning around to face him with a big smile.
“Just call me Tiger fuckin’ Woods!”