Chapter 8
EIGHT
PRESENT
Iwas a little distracted during therapy today, but I couldn’t stop the constant thoughts of my conversation with Grant.
He was even more dreamy than I remembered.
He wore a black tank top with black gym shorts, showcasing his muscular build.
The shorts were snug against his bulging quads, and I couldn’t help but stare.
He wore a black hat today with his hair in a low ponytail at the bottom—I wanted to twist those curls around my finger and tug.
Even though I was distracted by my interactions with Grant and his confidence as he asked for my number, I had an eye-opening session with Darla.
We discussed my first relationship, which still weighed heavily on my heart.
I didn’t miss the relationship, but whenever I’d remember how he held me every night after a nightmare when we lived together, I felt like an elephant was sitting on my stomach with thoughts of him lingering for the rest of the day—ultimately ruining my day.
As I relayed the relationship with Darla and stated how he had been my first safe space, she mentioned this could be the reason I may have had visceral reactions when thoughts of him resurfaced.
We discussed how his later actions removed the safety he once created.
I held on to the false sense of safety for too long, so by the end of our relationship, I wasn’t even my own person.
All my interests were his interests. All my friends were his friends. I didn’t know who I was without him.
Darla had explained that the reason I clung to him for so long was because my mom had never chosen me, which drew me to men who weren’t capable of choosing me either.
My most recent relationship was much of the same; I constantly forgave his cheating because he’d reassure me I was the one he wanted to be with.
But I cried myself to sleep while he slept soundly next to me.
I longed to someday become the version of myself who could believe she deserved better.
“Hey, are you okay?” I heard Emma ask as she walked into the living room.
“Yeah, sorry. I was thinking about what I discussed in therapy today. But I don’t want to talk about that because you’ll never guess what happened before my appointment.”
“Please tell me it’s about Grant—the hot waiting room guy.” That’s what we’d been calling him.
“He left his session early and started a conversation with me. We talked about books and joked back and forth—it felt so natural. Then, when it was almost time for my appointment with the therapist, he asked for my number.”
She sat there, mouth agape. “Shut up!” she exclaimed. “Talk about the perfect continuation of your meet-cute.”
“Right? But now I’m in my head about it. What if I make the same mistakes?” I sighed.
“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” she pushed. “And you can always take it as slow as you need to, and if he is the right person, he will be patient with you.”
“I guess that’s true, even though my track record would say otherwise.”
She rolled her eyes. “You have come such a long way. You’re in therapy to heal and become the best version of yourself. And maybe this guy is different. How many of the guys you’ve previously dated went to therapy? That’s a green flag in my opinion.”
“You’re right. I’m honestly overthinking. There is still a chance he doesn’t even text me.”
As the words left my mouth, my phone vibrated.
Unknown Number
Hey, sad girl.
I read the text and laughed. What a completely perfect way to describe me. “I think he texted me,” I told Emma.
“What did he say?” I showed her my phone, and she laughed at the message. “He already has a pet name for you. How cute.”
“What do I say? All he said was ‘Hey.’ Do I also say hey, or should I ask a question?”
“First of all, slow down. Second, give him a pet name back—something about how strong he looks. He’ll love that.”
“What about buff boy, or is that too much?” I asked, giggling.
She laughed too. “That’s perfect!”
Me
Hey, buff boy. Are you out saving the world?
I didn’t want to come on too strong, but still be able to refer to our earlier conversation. I added his name to my phone now that I was certain it was him.
Grant
Buff boy, huh? Am I a piece of meat to you?
Me
I was deciding between “book boy” or “buff boy” since I don’t know anything else about you. Buff boy seemed flirtier. Tell me more about yourself so I can come up with a better name.
Grant
You can call me Grant since that’s my name.
Before I could respond, I saw the three dots indicating he was typing again.
Grant
What do you want to know?
How could I play it cool while also telling him I wanted to know absolutely everything? I also didn't want to play twenty questions back and forth because that always felt too forced.
Me
Tell me about your passions.
Grant
Straight to the deep stuff, huh? Not even going to ask my favorite color?
I couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped. I crossed my legs on the couch, swaying my shoulders back and forth happily.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Emma said, standing up from the couch. “Tell me everything later, okay?”
I glanced up at her and nodded enthusiastically.
Me
Small talk is overrated. But you can tell me your favorite color if you’re itching for me to know.
Grant
I can agree that small talk is overrated.
My favorite color AND scent is lavender.
But hmmm, I’m passionate about my health and fitness.
And not in a “gym bro” way, but mostly for my mental health.
I feel better mentally when I take care of myself physically.
I’m also pretty passionate about helping people; I volunteer every weekend. What about you?
Me
Ooh, I LOVE lavender. Also, how admirable to volunteer every weekend! Even though you didn’t ask, my favorite colors are yellow and magenta. My passion includes reading in bed every weekend… But in all seriousness, my only passion right now is opening my own bookstore.
Grant
I’ll happily be your first customer.
I placed my hand over my mouth to hide the biggest grin spreading across my face. I enjoyed talking to him. One question crept into the back of my mind. Why was he initially drawn to me, especially since he saw me as a sad girl?
Me
I appreciate that! But a kind of serious question I have is, what made you ask for my number? Do I really seem sad?
I stared at my screen as seconds turned into minutes.
Maybe I was too forward in my approach when we had been talking casually. Did he only want to hook up, and I sounded too serious?
I set my phone on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen to distract my anxious thoughts by making dinner.
I made panko-coated air-fried chicken tenders and a baked potato.
I had been on a potato kick—I don’t know if life was worth living without potatoes.
As I sat down to eat dinner, I grabbed my laptop to ensure I had everything for my classes starting next week.
I enrolled in one business class and one accounting class because I didn’t know the first thing about owning a business.
What I loved most about the bookstore where I currently worked was the amazing clubs and kids' activities, but I wanted something that was mine.
I would design my store to cater to smaller and independent authors.
I was so distracted that I almost forgot I was waiting for a message from Grant. When I picked up my phone, I saw three unread texts from him.
Grant
I was trying to think of a cute or flirty response, but I’m going to be honest. First off, your beauty took my breath away—and when our eyes met the first time, I felt immediately captivated by you.
I could tell you were carrying something heavy behind those eyes.
I only say that because they looked like the ones staring back at me in the mirror.
They reminded me of a lone storm cloud on a sunny day, a little darkness around the edges, but a brightness at the core begging to be set free.
Secondly, your voice has a songlike sound—it reminded me of the birds in the Cinderella movie. I genuinely want to hear you talk more.
Lastly, but most importantly, I couldn't stop thinking about you all week. Now that I’ve triple-texted you, I will stop and hope I didn’t scare you away.
I read and reread his messages at least six times.
The sincerity in his words was refreshing, even if the doubts in the back of my mind were warning me to be cautious.
I didn’t even know how I’d respond. I was unsure how to be open to someone who seemed honest and genuine, especially after being in relationships with men who were mostly closed off.
Me
You sure do have a way with words, buff boy.
Since you’re being honest, I will too. I’ve trusted easily in the past and have gotten burned one too many times.
So, I’ve been hesitant in opening up to people.
Hence, why I’m single, thirty, and in therapy.
But I was also captivated by you that day—we kept eye contact for at least seven seconds—not that I was counting or anything!
As I hit send, I immediately started overanalyzing my response. I was trying to be funny and flirty while still somehow remaining serious, but I was so afraid of scaring him away. When my phone vibrated with a text notification, I instantly exhaled.
Grant
Seven seconds has got to be a record. And if you weren’t single, thirty, and in therapy, then we never would have met. That would honestly be a travesty. Who would I be able to hold record-breaking eye contact with?!
I giggled. I decided it was worth the risk to put myself out there and ask him out.
Me
Think of how much more eye contact we could make if we had dinner together.
Grant
Are you free this weekend? Unfortunately, I’ll be gone for three weeks starting on Sunday.
My cheeks hurt from the giddy feeling I had from just texting him.
Of course, I felt disappointed we wouldn't get to spend much time together right away, we’d have the time to get to know each other, and maybe by the time he comes back, I would be feeling a little more healed.
But my deep-rooted abandonment issues also made me believe I may never see him again after the first date.