20. so… so naked!
20 /
so… so naked!
charlie
It sounds like Rafael actually put some thought into setting me up with Zach. As he talked about the man I’m about to go on a date with, several thoughts ran through my mind.
Wow, I can’t believe he actually chose someone who sounds so great.
Why are you surprised? He’s nice, remember?
I wonder if Zach dates a lot and if he’s expecting anything from tonight.
It’s been a couple of years since I’ve gone on a date. Do I still remember what to do?
“Do you think Zach’s expecting me to sleep with him?” The next question in my brain comes out of my mouth, but he takes it in stride.
“Who the fuck cares what his expectations are? You—and only you—get to make that decision, red.” His shiny, chocolate eyes focus on me, and then he swallows. “Is that… is that what you want?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s not.”
Wait. It’s not ?
“I mean, I don’t know. I haven’t even met the guy. But I’m not planning on sleeping with him. I’m also not planning on not sleeping with him.” Maeve was very encouraging when I mentioned I was going on a date and reminded me to make sure to pack a condom or two in my bag. I already have them in there, in a zipped compartment so they don’t accidentally fall out if I drop my bag, or something. I want to be prepared, but I also want to know I can trust the person I’m with, and that’s not happening after one date.
“Right. Yeah. Makes sense.” Rafael swallows again. “So, he’s taking you to an Italian place tonight. It’s the one Elaina and Adam always talk about, Bella’s. Want to take a look at their menu?” He passes me his phone, with the menu already on the screen.
It’s thoughtful, this small action. He’s looking out for me and making sure I don’t get overwhelmed like I did in the coffee shop. I briefly wonder if it wouldn’t be better to just go on this date with Rafael instead of Zach, but I shake that idea out of my head before it can take root. When I take his phone, he stands and walks to the balcony doors, looking out at the sunny view below.
I make my three selections, picking two desserts, just in case, and take a look at their wine list, though I probably won’t drink anything tonight.
Rafael is outside, arms leaning on the railing, and I realize he’s left me in here alone. With his unlocked phone. It feels like a monumental thing. I have access to all of his conversations with this device. And he’s not even looking back to see if I’m scrolling through anything.
I walk out to stand next to him and hand him the device. “You weren’t worried I’d go through your messages or photos?”
Rather than taking the phone back, he turns his body toward mine and chuckles. “Go ahead.”
I scowl, picturing a series of flirty texts and pictures of all the beautiful women he dates. “No, thanks. I’d rather not know what your flavor-of -the-week texts you or how many pictures of boobs are in your camera roll.”
He laughs again. Nothing rocks this guy. “No flavor-of-the-week. Or of the month, even. And my camera roll is mostly pictures of my family, food, and my cat.”
“You have a cat?” I shriek in shock. “How did I not know this?”
He laughs again.
“I do. She’s very temperamental, so when I can get pictures of her, I take like a hundred. I think she hates me though. She always wants to be alone.” He sighs, seeming genuinely upset by the possibility. “I just wanna snuggle her, you know? But she doesn’t like to let me. When I try, she pushes her little paws out and runs away. I swear I can see her shake her head every time I walk into the room, like she’s telling me go hug someone else .”
“Maybe your cat is autistic.” I shrug and watch as his face pales and his eyes widen to the point that they’re comical. The sight has me bursting into laughter. “You should… see your… face,” I manage, my eyes squinting with the force of my laughter. Despite my eyes being nearly closed, I don’t miss the slow smile that blooms on his face or the way his warm gaze drifts over every part of my face, collecting on my lips.
“You have a fucked-up sense of humor, red.” The dimples on his cheek hold all of my attention. “I like it,” he adds before I can misconstrue his words as something negative. “Now, let’s go inside and see what you’re wearing on this date, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I answer. I have four outfits ready. I walk through the flat, heading to my room, but when I don’t feel him behind me, I whip around. “Are you coming?”
“To your bedroom?” His voice raises at the end.
“Yes, Machado. My room. Where the clothes are laid out on the bed so you can see them.” I roll my eyes, a habit my sister and I share.
“Uh, why don’t you try them on and show me?” Is he serious? No, thanks.
“Because that sounds like an absolute nightmare, and I’m not trying on multiple outfits.” I don’t understand his hesitation. It’s just a bedroom. “Can we stop this yelly conversation with me in the hall and you in the living room? Just get in here.”
I hear his footsteps and smile to myself, walking toward my bed before he can see me.
“All right, so I have a dress I actually like and feel comfortable in. Jeans and this sort of ruffly top. A silky skirt with a light sweater—Elaina picked this one. And finally, the leather-looking leggings with a long jumper. I’m worried I’ll be too hot in that one, though, because it’s always too warm inside restaurants.” I blow out a breath, taking in the clothing on my bed as he stands silently. I look up at Rafael, waiting for his opinion.
He drops his phone on my nightstand and scratches the back of his neck. He must hate all of these options. My shoulders come in on themselves as I deflate a little.
“You’d look amazing in all of these, carrot cake.” His eyes stay down, scanning the items as his tongue moves back and forth across his lower lip. “I’m gonna say we cut the leather pants, which is too bad, because your ass would look great in those. But you should be comfortable.” He waves a hand at the items, as if dismissing them. My stomach summersaults as his compliments land. “The jeans might seem too casual, even though I bet that shirt would look really pretty with your hair.” He smiles as he says the words, then runs a finger along the silk skirt, finally looking up at me. “So, now the question is, which one do you feel better in? The dress or the skirt?”
I glance at him, then back to his hand on my skirt, still absentmindedly stroking, and instantly, I decide I won’t be able to wear that without thinking about his hands on it. While it’s on my body. And I’m about to go on a date with…Zach! Right!
“I think I’ll go with the dress, then.” I silently beg him not to touch the dress, or I’ll be going on this date naked. Ugh. No. Do not think about being naked.
He claps, startling me out of my chaotic thoughts, his lips curling up into that irresistible, easy smile. I shake myself out of whatever this is and pick the dress up, walking toward the bathroom attached to my bedroom.
“I’ll be right back,” I mumble and scurry to the bathroom, shutting the door and leaning against it as I catch my breath. From what? I don’t know.
I undress quickly and look at the dress on the hanger. It’s a deep green with sleeves that flutter over my arms. It wraps in the front, and the hem sits just below my knees, but there’s enough cleavage to make this a little sexy. I look down and realize the bra I have on will not work with this dress, so I remove it. Except now I don’t have a bra on, and I definitely need one with these generous D-cups. I don’t hear any sounds coming through the door, so I open it enough that I can peek into the bedroom. He’s gone.
I walk toward my dresser, and the moment I take the first few steps, Rafael appears at my bedroom door, reaching for something on my nightstand. When he turns, his eyes are locked on my very, very naked breasts.
“Shhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!” Without blinking, his eyes scan the rest of my body. The black boy shorts I have on, my bare legs, and when his gaze starts to move back up to where I am most naked, my arms finally shoot up and wrap around my chest, my hardened nipples poking into my forearms.
“Get out!” I shout, and he rears back, nearly falling on his bum .
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! I thought you were in the bathroom,” he yells from the hallway.
“And I thought you left the room,” I yell back as I find the bra I need.
“I did. I forgot my phone. I didn’t think you’d come out so… so naked! I’m sorry.” I can hear him pacing, his voice sounding closer than farther away as we have another shouting conversation. I hope the walls in this building aren’t too thin.
“Well, I didn’t have the right bra.” I wave it in the air, forgetting he can’t see me. “I’m going to go put this and the dress on now. I will come back out fully dressed.” I slam the bathroom door a little too hard as I step in. If I thought I was out of breath before, all of the breath has definitely left me now. He just saw me as close to naked as anyone has seen me in two years.
I cannot think about this. We have to just be adults and move past it. And we will. This is fine. He’s seen plenty of breasts before.
Oh God, he’s seen so many breasts before. So many probably perky, perfect ones that are nothing like mine. What if he thought mine were gross and weird?
Ugh, who cares? You’re not going out with him. Ever. It makes no difference what he thinks. He’s probably already forgotten all about them anyway.
I slip the dress on, tying the bow at the side with slightly shaky hands. I check my makeup in the mirror, smooth down my hair, which I can easily straighten here thanks to the lack of humidity, and open the bathroom door.
The bedroom is empty. I walk to the door, seeing that the hallway is also empty. Peeking into the living room, there’s no sign of Rafael. I hear mumbling and walk to the kitchen. There he is. Holding a glass of water, whispering something to it.
“Am I interrupting? ”
He whips around, nearly dropping the glass. His eyes land on me for half a second before he looks down at the floor.
“No. Sorry. Thirsty. Sorry.” He clears his throat, eyebrows furrowing as he shakes his head.
“All right, well, I need you to actually look at me now and not make this weird.” I put my hands on my hips, feigning annoyance. “They’re just breasts. Let’s move on?” I’m mostly terrified he’s never going to be able to look at me again.
He closes his eyes and then looks up, blowing out a breath that comes out sounding like, “Phooooooo-oh-wow.” He swallows and motions with his finger for me to spin, and for completely mysterious-to-me reasons, I do. Well, they’re not that mysterious. It’s the little glimmer in his eyes when he took me in, the way he stood a little straighter, and how his lips relaxed, parting just slightly. That’s why I don’t hesitate. Because Rafael makes me feel beautiful with nothing but a look. “Damn, pumpkin. You are wearing the fuck out of that dress.” His expression gives nothing away and now I feel confused.
“I don’t know what that means,” I say, fighting the urge to run back to my room.
“It means you look beautiful.” With his gaze steady on me, he continues, “You’re going to have a great time, Chuck. You’re ready for this.” He sets the glass of water in the sink. “Text me if you need anything, yeah?”
Before I get the chance to say thank you, ask him what I should talk about tonight, or even say goodbye, he’s gone.
I spend the rest of my time before the date wondering what he’s thinking. Wondering if this date even matters.
If my goal is to explore big feelings, to prepare myself for my only long-term relationship, and to find my way back to writing meaningful relationships, then going on a date with a stranger might not be the thing that propels me in that direction. Because what are the chances this date will lead to more? That Zach and I have a good enough connection for me to let him into my life?
I also find myself wondering who Rafael dates and what the women he spends time with are like. Does he let them take his phone? Does he have deep, meaningful conversations with them? Does he call them beautiful?
Probably. Right?
Fifteen minutes before the scheduled meeting time with Zach, I’m in my ride-share and strongly considering asking them to turn back and take me home. The way Rafael left isn’t helping the lack of confidence I’m feeling, either. I’m blowing out a long breath as my final attempt to calm down when my phone vibrates in my hands.
RAFAEL:
I’m sorry about how I left, Chuck. I was being weird about the thing that happened that we most definitely don’t have to ever talk about like ever. But if you want to, we can, or I can forget about it. Whatever you want.
Fuck. I’m still being weird. I’m sorry.
I feel a smile form as a giggle builds in my chest. For someone who always appears so confident, he’s actually a little insecure, and it’s nice to see this side of him. Like a new layer is being peeled back, and I’m seeing the real him the way he’s been seeing the real me.
RAFAEL:
Have a great time tonight. Just be yourself. Any guy who gets to spend even ten minutes with you should consider himself lucky, and if he doesn’t, he’s an absolute idiot. I’ll be here if you need me.
Butterflies take flight in my stomach, and I clutch my abdomen in an effort to calm them. I read the message over and over and realize that the fluttering feelings increase with every read.
I should respond to him. I know I should, but then the car comes to a stop in front of the restaurant, and I thank the lovely lavender-haired driver—who I’ll most definitely give five stars for having the temperature well-controlled and the music nice and low.
I gather my bag and exit the vehicle, and when I look up, there’s a very handsome man smiling at me. Zach . He’s dressed in navy pants and a white buttoned shirt that looks well-ironed. His brown shoes are clean, and as I walk closer to him, his smile widens just a touch.
“Charlie?” He takes a step forward and I nod. “Hi, I’m Zach,” he says as he extends his hand toward me.
We’re shaking hands, then. All right.
His grip is firm without crushing my fingers. “It’s really nice to meet you. I’m glad I showed up early so you didn’t have to wait for me.”
Oh. That’s nice. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that he was even earlier than me. I should say something. I haven’t said anything.
Come on, Charlie. Words.
“It’s nice to meet you, too. Did Rafael warn you about my terrible time management?” Why am I bringing him up? Why is Rafael the first thing I’m choosing to talk about? Bollocks.
“Nah. He actually didn’t tell me much about you other than that you’re beautiful, smart, and funny as hell. Pretty sure those were his exact words.” He shrugs, still smiling.
“Oh.” Is my brain even attached to my skull? I can feel my mask slipping on—the cute, smart, flirty one who will live up to the girl this guy was promised.
“Should we get inside?” He gestures to the front door, and I walk in front of him. He doesn’t put his hand on me, which I’m thankful for. He’s respectful, but not handsy. Maybe this won’t be so bad .
We’re seated by the window, at a table not too close to any others. It feels private and quiet. I would have hated sitting in the middle of this busy restaurant, surrounded by people.
“Wow, Rafael reserved a great table,” Zach says casually as he takes a seat.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Oh, he insisted on reserving the table to make sure we got a good one. Nice of him, huh?” He picks up the drink menu and looks it over as he speaks.
“Yeah. Nice.” He picked this place. This table. Knowing I like pasta. Knowing I wouldn’t want a table in the middle of the room. I’m so thankful I don’t need to look at the menu because I’m not sure I’d be able to retain any of the information.
Our server comes and takes our drink orders—I stick to water while he gets a beer—and Zach orders Bruschetta as an appetizer without asking me if that’s what I’d like. He’s lucky I’d never say no to deliciously toasted bread, or tomatoes, or basil.
“So, Charlie, how long have you been in LA?” Zach takes a piece of bread and breaks it over his plate. When he looks up at me, I notice that his brown eyes don’t have any traces of caramel swirling in them.
Nineteen days, I want to say, but that’s far too precise, and I know people think it’s strange when I know that kind of information. “Almost three weeks,” I say instead. “How long have you lived here?”
“Over a year now. I love it here.” No follow-up question. Hmm. Great, now I need to think of something else to say or ask. Uncomfortable silences are never great on a first date. Pretty sure I’ve read that in every magazine since I was in my teens.
“You’re from Texas, right?” I did hear a bit of a Southern drawl in his voice earlier, plus Rafael told me …
“That’s right. Let’s go Cowboys!” He smiles widely at me. Not one dimple in sight, let alone two, side by side.
“That’s American football, yeah?” I couldn’t care less about the sport, but obviously, he does.
“It’s just football here, sweetheart.” The nickname doesn’t land. It doesn’t feel condescending, but it doesn’t feel good either. I force a small smile on my face. “Anyway, tell me about you. Do you have any siblings? What do you like to do for fun? What kind of music do you like? I want to know you.”
Wow. So many questions, but at least he’s interested in me, I suppose.
I let myself indulge in the conversation, in looking at this rather attractive bloke, in letting someone know more about me. And I keep thoughts of Rafael mostly out of my mind. Mostly.