20. Jonathan
Jonathan
I wasn’t sure whether to thank my mom and Julie for setting up this blind date the week right after Valentine’s Day . . . or to tell them to never do this again.
There were plenty of red roses and baby’s breath bouquets displayed on the restaurant window sans the hearts and chocolates.
The celebration for love and romance was still ongoing.
My date and me had agreed over the phone that today wasn’t meant to be anything serious.
Still, I could feel the unspoken pressure from my mom.
Sure, I’d date. But that was the extent of it. I believed that I was built for the easy stuff—the rush of pleasure and passion, the fun, the sex—and that was it.
I’d go on a date with a woman, have a meal, then sex—sometimes, it was just straight to the sex—and finally, a shower after all the fun.
Repeat with no strings attached. I was always honest with how little I wanted emotions and the idea of a relationship to muddle things.
Some women didn’t mind. Others called me an asshole, and I always agreed with their sentiments.
But the truth was: I was scared. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to commit, or that I enjoyed ‘womanizing.’ Or that I preferred things to be easy.
No. I’m a coward. I watched my mom grieve for my dad for years, understanding their love was true and raw. The kind of love you’d only find once in a lifetime. I couldn’t bring myself to live through that loss one day. I doubt I’d even have the strength to trudge on—day after day—the way she did.
I’d honed myself to believe I’d be perfectly happy without a partner.
I’d be fine loving Julie and Shoua’s kids as my own.
I’d be content watching both my sister and cousin live out their lives with their partners through the good, the bad, and all the bits that fell in between.
I wouldn’t have minded it one bit, to be honest.
I’d let myself believe the love my parents shared with one another wasn’t the kind of relationship meant for me. That maybe being commitment-free would also save me from the heartache of losing the one I loved. Or save my significant other from the pain of losing me at an untimely end.
Underneath all that facade though, what I really wanted was the same love my parents shared with one another. And I knew I had no balls to go after it because of fear. Despite it all, I understood my mom’s intentions that allowed her to smooth-talk me into being here.
Anxiety and regret constricted my chest as I stood in front of the chic wooden door with two Japanese characters, the word Natsuki carved into it.
In my hand, I gripped a bouquet of flowers I picked up before heading here.
I hoped the seemingly nice woman I had spoken to over the phone was as understanding in person.
I walked into the restaurant, steeling myself for an amazing and pricey dinner with a woman I’d hopefully never see again. However, I stopped short at the sight of Lina.
The world around me slowed to a full stop when I saw that distinctive, heart-shaped pout—I’d recognize it anywhere in this universe. She looked different somehow, but not unrecognizable. Those very lips parted.
“Jonathan?” For the first time in all the years we’d known each other, the tone she had directed at me was soft; a mere whisper. But I could hear it better than the rest of the world around us.
The hostess smiled at Lina, eagerly grabbing menus off the counter she stood at. “Miss, are you two ready to be seated now?” she asked.
Lina and me looked at each other. I quickly eyed her from head to toe, only to realize she was wearing exactly what my date said she would be.
Black dress and black heels with her hair up in a bun.
My heart thundered loudly as my stomach dropped.
She may be wearing something similar to my blind date . . .
But Lina wasn’t my date.
My ribs still constricted, limiting my ability to breathe. I heard the door open behind us, and I turned to see the woman I saw in the pictures she sent to me. My date had the same lush hair and big smile in person as she did in her photos.
“Hi! You’re Jonathan Lo, right?” she asked.
I plastered on my best smile. I said to the hostess and quickly glanced at Lina again, “Sorry about the confusion, but we’re not together.”
Her cheeks were flushed red as she stepped back.
I awkwardly turned to look at my date, who was patiently waiting for me to respond. “Sorry about that. Yes, I’m Jonathan. You’re Michelle Thao, I presume?”
The hostess whispered a quiet ‘sorry’ to Lina behind me as my date replied. “Yes. I hope you didn’t have to wait too long for me.”
“You’re good. I just got here myself,” I chuckled, turning to the hostess again. “Reservation for Jonathan Lo at seven.”
The hostess flashed me an apologetic smile and seated us at once.
Despite this being my first time eating at this restaurant, I had little to no recollection of anything in the room aside from our table and the tiny vase with a single red rose and several stems of baby’s breath.
Michelle’s smile grew wider at the flowers I gave her as I pulled the seat out for her.
As soon as the hostess left us, Michelle spoke up, excited.
“When your sister reached out to me about this blind date, I was surprised,” she said.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“I knew you as my sister’s friend’s brother, and the only thing I remembered about you from high school was”—Michelle started explaining—“that lanky, younger boy who’d always show up after school to our interior design club, asking for cash from Julie every day for snacks.”
I groaned as she let out a laugh. “Oh, God. I knew I asked Julie for money way too many times.”
She shrugged. Her deep-brown eyes darkened into an inky black as they flicked from my face, arms, and waist. “It’s nice to see you again, and see that you’re not the same, cute boy you used to be anymore.”
A small smirk pulled at my mouth as a chuckle rumbled out. “Nope. I’m definitely not a boy anymore.”
Michelle practically purred, grinning. If I had met her just two months ago, I’d wine and dine her, and then I’d bring her to a nice hotel down the street. She was a fun, flirty, and attractive woman. But she wasn’t the one I wanted to be with.
The stretch of the smile plastered onto my face grew wider. Then, the corners of my lips faltered when Lina walked into my line of sight. She followed the hostess up to the bar alone. At some point, she must’ve taken off her coat because she was now baring her back to the world.
With her hair up in a bun, the glow of the dim lights in this restaurant crafted planes of shadows across the breadth of her muscles.
Dips and valleys highlighted by the light and accentuated by the shadows—showcasing the strength she carried with each low, distinguishable curve.
My ribs constricted tightly again as I watched her take her seat.
Michelle caught my distraction immediately and almost turned to look when I spoke up. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you from high school. Were we in the same grade as well?”
“I’m a year older than you. I doubt I ran into you often. I saw your sister more since she and my older sister ran in the same social circles.”
I nodded slowly, already knowing I probably wouldn’t remember her sister either. “Well, it was your sister’s social media post about you being single that encouraged my sister to set up this date. I suppose we should thank them for that.”
Michelle’s face reddened instantly when I brought up the witty post her sister wrote about her accomplishments and how she had yet to find her perfect partner. “Oh my gosh, don’t even mention it. It’s still so embarrassing she even did that—basically advertising to everyone how single I am.”
“Julie would’ve done the same if she were as creative as your sister.” I shrugged, smiling.
We shared a laugh, and I made sure to train my eyes on the woman in front of me. With Lina lingering there in my periphery, I wanted to turn to slowly and methodically take her in, drink her up, eat her out—make an entire meal out of her. But I didn’t.
I wouldn’t. There was another woman in front of me equally deserving of my time and focus. Despite that, my mind wouldn’t stop asking questions.
Was it a date? What kind of man did she choose to spend her time with? Was he kind like Andy? Did he treat her well? I shushed all those thoughts as soon as they appeared in my mind.
Michelle and me both knew this date wasn’t about heat and passion.
The initial interest and fire at the beginning fizzled out a quarter into our date.
The conversation became more friendly than flirty, and Michelle began to feel more like an old friend.
Our only connection to each other, aside from our older sisters being friends, was the high school we once attended.
“Thank you for paying for the meal,” she said at the end of our date.
I looked at her with a gentle smile. “No need to thank me. It was an amazing dinner, and with great company.”
Michelle handed me a tight smile. “But . . .”
“But I see you more as a friend,” I said softly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright.” She cleared her throat. “You don’t need to apologize. Being honest with me is so much better. I appreciate it, Jonathan.”
“I wouldn’t have minded taking you home,” I said as we waited on the curbside for her rideshare to pull up.
“No,” Michelle said quickly. “It’s alright. It makes everything less awkward.”
Silence fell between the two of us until I spoke up again. “I hope you had a good time, at least.”
“I did,” she smiled. A gray sedan pulled up. She checked her phone screen and the license plate of the car. She turned to look at me one last time. “Looks like this is my ride. Thank you for everything.”
“Of course,” I said. “Thank you for your company tonight.”
We bid each other one last goodbye before she stepped into the car. I watched the vehicle leave the parking lot before stepping back into the restaurant. With the quick talk with the hostess, I walked in and toward the bar.
Lina’s naked, defined back continued to glow with gold dust as she sat there under the dim lights. For a moment, the vision of sweat beading and dripping down the hollow of her arched back and muscles darted across my mind . . . until the world came to a slow stop for the second time that night.
She looked over her shoulder and directly at me. Then, she smiled—one that made her eyes gleam and her cheeks tinge pink—a genuine smile that made her look softer, gentler, and more human than ever.
And my fucking heart thrashed so hard against my chest it seemed to shake the walls of this entire restaurant. Each brutal pump hammered harder than the previous one, and all Lina Lee did was smile wider.
It was as if she knew she had me in the palm of her hand.