Thirty-Five
thirty-five
WAITING FOR SUPERMAN - DAUGHTRY
CALLIE - JULY 12, 2013
M y heart is racing as I wipe down the counters in my new kitchen, trying to keep myself busy and calm the nerves fluttering in my stomach. I’ve been looking forward to seeing Owen, but the anticipation is almost too much to handle. The past few days have been a whirlwind, and now, he’s on his way to help me move into my new place. We’ve talked so much, shared so much, but this will be the first time I’ve ever seen him in person.
I glance at the clock, knowing he’ll be here any minute. I try to focus on the task at hand, but my mind keeps wandering back to our conversations and the connection we’ve shared. It’s strange how someone can become so important in such a short amount of time.
Every word we’ve exchanged, every laugh shared–it all comes rushing back, making me realize how deeply he’s impacted me. It feels surreal that he’s about to step into my world, making the transition from virtual to reality. I wonder if he feels the same anticipation, the same nervous excitement.
The sound of tires crunching on the gravel driveway pulls me out of my thoughts. I peek out the window and see a truck pulling in. I swear my heart falls out of my ass. His truck looks so much like my first vehicle–a ‘98 green Chevy S-10. Thanks to a crazy request that I made to my dad when I was little though, my S-10 had flames on it. I try to talk myself out of thinking that this must be some sort of sign.
What are the odds, right? It’s like the universe is playing some kind of joke on me, or maybe it’s just a coincidence. Either way, my heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of my chest. What will he think of me in person?
I take a deep breath, wiping my hands on a dish towel before heading toward the door. Butterflies fill my stomach as I turn the knob and step outside. It feels like a scene from a movie, where the whole world stops and focuses on one moment.
Owen steps out of the truck, and for a second, time stands still. He looks just as I imagined, maybe even better. His presence fills the space around him, and I can’t help but feel drawn to him. He’s here. He’s really here.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
We start to walk toward each other, and with each step, the anticipation builds. I have to force myself to stay calm when all I want to do is shriek with excitement and hurdle myself into his arms.
Stay calm.
When we finally reach each other, he wraps me in a huge hug, lifting me slightly off the ground, careful not to squeeze me too tight because of my growing belly.
I close my eyes, savoring the feeling of his arms around me, the warmth of his embrace. And he smells so fucking good – like citrus, sea salt and eucalyptus. It’s overwhelming, and I have to remind myself to behave. No matter how strong my feelings undeniably are for him, he has a girlfriend and I will not be the other woman.
“Hey, Callie,” he says softly, his voice sending shivers down my spine as he rests his chin on the top of my head.
“Hi,” I reply, pulling back slightly to look at him. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, those corny montages in the movies make so much more sense to me.
I suddenly feel self-conscious about my outfit–pink capri sweatpants and a gray cami. I wish I had worn something cuter, but I needed to be comfortable. My hair is probably greasy and I should have thrown on a hat. Being pregnant in July is bad enough without adding moving into the mix. His gaze is warm and reassuring, though, and I can tell he probably doesn’t notice I look like a hot mess.
We stand there for a moment, just taking each other in. The connection between us is palpable, and I can’t help but feel hopeful for what’s to come. I take a deep breath and remind myself to keep my feelings in check. Owen is with someone else, and I need to respect that.
But I don’t want to.
“It is so great to finally see you, Callie,” he says, taking off his aviator sunglasses to rest them on top of the bill of his Chicago Bears hat. His eyes are a deep and soulful brown, dark as freshly brewed coffee.
There’s so much that I want to say to him. However, “Ditto,” is all that comes out.
We stand there like that for a little longer than we probably should. But I feel like I’ve waited so long for this moment. Why did he have to go and get a girlfriend?
For the same reason why you were fucking Matt, I remind myself. Because we aren’t together .
When we finally break apart from the hug, I can’t help but smile up at him. He’s not extremely tall but it doesn’t take much to be substantially taller than me at five-foot-three-inches. And I have to shake off the thought that we fit together like this so perfectly. “Ready to get started?”
“Absolutely,” he replies, returning my smile. “Let’s get you moved in.”
As I climb into the truck and buckle my seatbelt, Owen starts the engine. I notice him glancing around the cab with a slightly panicked look on his face. The inside of the truck is a bit messy–wrappers, receipts, and a few random items scattered around. He scrambles to gather everything up, trying to clean as quickly as possible. He obviously wants to make a good impression too. It’s endearing and makes me like him even more, if that’s even possible.
We make the short drive to my apartment and head inside. I show him the boxes and furniture that still need to be moved to the house. Owen immediately gets to work, lifting a heavy box with ease. I follow his lead, grabbing a smaller box and heading toward the truck.
He makes everything look so effortless. His strength, his charm–it’s intoxicating.
I quickly realize that moving my dresser is going to be the hardest part of this and I’m honestly not sure I will be much help. Just as he sees me staring at the piece of furniture trying to figure out how in the hell we are going to get it out of here, he runs back out to his truck and comes back with a freaking dolly he must have had in the truck bed.
This man is more than prepared and it makes me chuckle. I never would have thought to use a dolly. And I’m wondering how he even has one. I can barely plan what I’m going to have for breakfast on a daily basis, much less plan ahead for things that I might need.
It’s then that I notice his shirt has a logo on it for a moving company. I assume that he worked there and that’s why he knows exactly what to do. However, when I ask him about the shirt, he tells me that he actually bought it from Goodwill and wore it today because he thought it would be funny and that the furniture dolly came from an estate sale.
As we load up the truck, I can’t help but admire how effortlessly he handles everything. It’s like he’s done this a million times before. Meanwhile, I should be the one with moving expertise. Moving into this little house marks the fifth time that I’ve moved in the last year. I’m desperately trying to find stability for me and my girls and hoping this is the last time I will have to move for a very long time.
We only have to take a couple of trips back and forth, and before long, the apartment is empty.
“All set?” he asks, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.
“Yep,” I say, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest every time our eyes meet. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
He laughs as we climb into the truck.
As we drive back to my new house, the song “Cups” by Anna Kendrick from the movie Pitch Perfect comes on the radio. “Oh, I love this song! Can I turn it up?”
“Sure,” Owen replies, smiling.
I enthusiastically turn the volume knob, not paying attention much as it lands on level twenty-nine. We drive for a moment before Owen quickly reaches over and turns it up one more notch to level thirty.
I glance at him, puzzled. “Twenty-nine not quite loud enough for you?”
He chuckles. “I don’t like odd numbers. I’m a numbers guy–everything has to be even.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “That’s kind of adorable. ”
He shrugs, still smiling. “We all have our quirks.”
As the music plays, I start singing along, tapping the dashboard to the beat. I’m giving an impromptu concert that Owen didn’t know he was in for today.
When the song ends, I turn to him and say, “I want this song played at my funeral.” He gives me a bewildered look. “What?! It’s a great song!”
“For a funeral?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Yep! It’s perfect.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “If you say so.”
“I do say so! Besides,” I tease, “we all have our quirks, right?” I add with a playful wink.
Once at the new house, Owen helps me unpack and put things away. We work together seamlessly, with Owen easily lifting heavy items and me directing where things should go.
As we move boxes, I notice Owen pause, looking around like we’re missing something. “Hey, where’s Sara’s crib? I assumed it was already here when I didn’t see it at the apartment. I was going to put it together for you.”
I sigh, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I gave the old crib to Adam. I’m planning to pick up a new one tomorrow. For tonight, Sara can just sleep with me.”
He nods, understanding. “Got it. If you need any help with that, let me know.”
“That’s sweet, Owen. But I don’t expect you to come back here again tomorrow. That’s a long drive.”
He shrugs and we continue unpacking. The atmosphere becomes more relaxed as we finish up and I am grateful that he has been here to help. This would have taken me forever to do alone. We joke and tease each other, the playful and flirty banter making the work feel less like a chore.
As I put away the last of the dishes in the kitchen, a thought occurs to me and I turn to Owen. “Is your girlfriend going to be mad that you’re helping a damsel in distress like me?” I ask, only half-joking.
He looks at me, a serious but soft expression on his face. “I don’t know, and I don’t really care if she is. You’re my friend, Callie. I’m going to be here for you, even if she doesn’t like it. And besides,” he adds more to himself than to me, “we aren’t doing anything wrong.”
“I suppose that’s true,” I say feeling a warm blush spreading across my cheeks because I know I would do all the wrong things with him if I could. God, these pregnancy hormones need to simmer down. But there’s something so magnetic about this pull that I feel toward him.
As the night winds down and I get the last of my things put away in the bathroom, Owen prepares to head home. I walk him to the door, feeling a pang of sadness that he’s leaving.
“Thank you so much for all your help today,” I say, giving him a hug goodbye. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
He wraps his arms around me, holding me close. “I won’t be. I promise.”
Inside, I wish he would kiss me. Why does he have to have a stupid girlfriend? The thought lingers as we hug, and I swear I feel him placing a soft kiss on the top of my head. My heart flutters, but I keep my feelings in check.
“I’ll see you again soon,” he says, pulling back slightly to look at me.
I nod, smiling. “I’ll hold you to that.”
As he drives away, I lean against the back of my new front door and rest my head back with a thunk. Ouch . I wrap my arms around myself, already missing his touch and wondering when I will see him again. I slowly slide my back down the door until I’m sitting on the floor staring up at the ceiling.
I can see my reflection in a mirror that we hung on the wall across from the front door and I feel ashamed of myself.
“He’s got a girlfriend, Callie. A fucking girlfriend. What are you doing?! You cannot catch feelings for this guy,” I reprimand my reflection aloud like a lunatic. “You’re just rebounding because of everything that’s happened lately with Adam and Matt. It’s nothing. Don’t try to make it something.”
But it’s not nothing.
In fact, it’s just the opposite.
Part of me wonders if I just want him so badly because I know I can’t have him. Because he can’t be mine. But that cannot be the case because I wanted him before he had a girlfriend. Before he lost his stupid phone.
He had told me that there was no way it would work out because we live so far from one another. But if that’s the case, then what the hell was today?
It seemed like the timing worked out just fine and he was able to get here when he wanted to be.
Why is the universe so cruel that it would send me the right guy at the wrong time?
And why did he show up now?
Why didn’t he show up months ago when we first met online before he wrote me off so quickly and shoved me into the friend zone?
What changed?
God, I must look so pathetic. I guess he just couldn’t help feeling sorry for me since I was desperate enough to ask for his help.
I guess chivalry isn’t dead though. So there’s that.