Chapter 5
Rafi
I step into the kitchen, rubbing a towel through my hair trying to get it to dry quicker. I'm running behind and I don't want to be late picking up Emma. My workout today went a little long, Coach introduced some new speed and agility tests, so I've been rushing around since I got home.
I agreed to pick Emma up at the coffee shop, because I get it. She doesn't know me, and doesn't want to give me her home address. I'm hoping that will change by tonight. We texted briefly last night, she asked me what she should wear, and I told her to just dress comfortably. She didn't respond after that, but I was hoping we could talk a little more.
It's okay though. I can be patient. I'm further along in us than she is, more invested, and I have to remember she doesn't know me like she thinks she does. A twist of guilt hits my stomach when I think about the deception but I shove it back down.
I drape the towel over the back of a chair at the kitchen counter and open the fridge, pulling out the water filter jug.
"You ready for the big date?" Stetson rags on me as he enters the kitchen. I turn to face him after putting the filter away and take a sip of water.
"Fuck off," I tell him, but without conviction. It's funny though, it does feel like middle school, first dance butterflies. This girl fucking turns me inside out.
Roxy and Tina walk into the kitchen behind Stetson and I do my best not to roll my eyes. Roxy drapes an arm over Stetson's shoulder. She's tall, maybe 5'11", where her friend Tina is closer to Emma's height. They're both beautiful, but not my type. Not anymore.
"What's this about a date?" Roxy smiles wide, showing full, bright white teeth.
"Oh yeah, my boy here is taking a girl out on a real date, dinner and everything."
"Why don't you ever take me on a date?" She pouts up at him.
"'Cause we're not dating?"
Roxy smacks his arm, but fortunately doesn't seem all that offended. Stetson doesn't really do relationships. Again, neither did I.
"Seriously though, Raze, you look hot as fuck. Is that Armani?" Roxy asks me, leaning forward, taking in my suit jacket. It's as casual as I could manage, considering I practically live in work-out clothes. I left the dress shirt unbuttoned at the top to make it more relaxed.
I don't do this shit very often, I haven't attempted to look nice for someone in… maybe ever. I really don't know what the fuck I'm doing, so I'm glad to hear it looks okay.
"Thanks, Rox," I shift. "Not too dressy?"
"Hell no. That periwinkle blue shirt makes your skin look hella good. You look like a Calvin Klein ad."
"Alright, Roxy, I'm standing right here." Stetson looks mildly annoyed at her preening.
"What? I thought you just said we're not dating?" Roxy asks innocently.
"So who's the lucky girl?" Tina interrupts.
The way she looks at me, it's not with detached interest like how Roxy looks at Stetson. It's more calculated. She's genuinely interested in me, the way she licks her lips, leaning toward me slightly. I should know, I pay attention to posture for a living, noticing subtleties so I can prepare against them. And this girl's not subtle with her interest.
"No one you know," I deflect and set my glass in the sink. No need to give her any ammo. "Alright, I'm out. Stay safe kids, use protection!" I yell at Stetson on my way through the house out the door.
I pull up outside the coffee shop at 6 pm on the dot. Emma's standing outside, leaning against the brick wall of the building, which is sandwiched between a bar on either side.
I pull up next to the curb, and try to park the truck quickly so I can open the door for her, but she's already pulling the passenger door open by the time I can get out. It takes her a second to boost herself up and into the truck. I pause to see if she needs help but she manages, if a bit clumsily.
"Hey," I press my lips together, suppressing the urge to kiss her immediately. Instead, my eyes roam. Her hair is down, which it rarely is, and she's not wearing her glasses, so there's nothing to obscure her beautiful eyes.
Her lips are pillowy, the top lip a little larger than the bottom, which compliment her heart shaped face perfectly. Her nose is small and pert, all of which make her big brown eyes seem a little too big for her face, and the effect is ethereal. She could play one of those elvin girls in Lord of the Rings, unique and so fuckin' pretty.
"Uhm, hi. Hi." She sucks in her bottom lip, to either swallow her words or to distract herself from her discomfort. Unfortunately, when her lip pops back out, it's wet and reddened, turning my thoughts more rated R than she's likely ready for.
I wait patiently, hoping she'll give me direct eye contact. After a few seconds, she finally looks up at me, and her lips part slightly. Those lovely lips that I'm now picturing wrapped around my… I clear my throat and turn back to the road and drive to the restaurant.
I made a reservation at Viola, a 5-star restaurant downtown not too far from here. They're normally impossible to get into, but they're one of my sponsors and were happy to accommodate me.
My pen pal Emma's eating habits are that of a 5-year-old. I'm pretty sure she could live on pizza, tacos, and donuts, so I thought bringing her to a place that's known for its excellent food would win me some points.
But the next thing out of her mouth is a soft, “So, where are we going?” and my hopes are dashed when I tell her.
"Viola? As in that fancy place where all the tourists go?" Her eyes wide and panicked, her voice more shrieking than I would have expected.
"Yeah. Is that okay?" I hedge.
"Oh… uhmm… yeah. Of course. It's just, you said, dress comfortably. It's pretty fancy there, right? Maybe I should go home and change." I look at what she's wearing and don't see the problem. She's got in skin tight black jeans and this thick hipster looking grandma sweater thing. It's cute, and besides, people don't really dress up for fancy restaurants anymore, do they? Then again, I did… but that was for her, not for the restaurant.
"You're fine. And fuck what they think anyway."
She opens her mouth to respond, but doesn't say anything. Instead she looks out the window, and if her posture indicates anything it's that she wants to get the fuck out of my truck. Half her body is turned toward the door, and if she could inch any further away from me, she would.
"So… did you have a good day at work?" I ask after a few more minutes of awkward silence.
"Yes." She whispers, so quiet I can barely hear her.
I cut my losses for the drive and decide to double up my efforts when we get to dinner. I pull up into the parking lot, which is packed, and find a spot near the edge of the lot. "Let me get your door," I tell her and am relieved when she smiles and lets me, though she's still avoiding direct eye contact.
I grab her hand and help her down, even though she doesn't need it, I just need an excuse to be close to her. To touch her. She pulls her hand away while we walk to the entrance, and I try not to be disappointed. She doesn't know me, I remind myself. She doesn't know I'm Rafi.
I hold the door open for her and notice how she fidgets in her sweater. I really don't think she needs to change but maybe I should have let her. Her first reaction to things seems to be discomfort, and I realize too late that I took away a chance to make her feel more comfortable.
The host brings us to a table along the glass wall facing the back of the restaurant, overlooking the ocean. I specifically requested this table, but I'm starting to regret it when I realize how busy the restaurant is, we're central to everyone. I hear my name whispered as we walk through the crowded place and I'm worried I fucked up.
The host seats us, but I thank her and send her on her way so I can pull out Emma's chair. Again I'm on the receiving end of a shy, quiet smile and I wonder if she always hands them out so sparingly, or if she really is that uncomfortable right now. I thought we broke the ice with our kiss.
"Thank you for bringing me here, Raze," she says quietly, but doesn't look up.
"You're welcome. Thanks for agreeing to go out with me." A shadow crosses her face, and I wonder if she still thinks this is a prank.
Our server comes over to the table several minutes later to take our order. I encourage Emma to go first, and after I order and the server walks away, Emma's giving me a strange look.
I'm about to ask her how her family is but I swallow the words. What the fuck am I doing? I need to tell her the truth, because I don't want to lie to her and pretend I don't know anything about her. About her parents and her sister and her childhood dog.
It's hot in here, and I’m sweating under my fucking collar from all this pressure. I take off my jacket, then think maybe I should put it back on. I'm not sure this was such a good idea now. Why the fuck am I fidgeting so bad?
What can I ask her that Rafi wouldn't know? The silence between us has gone on long enough that one of us needs to break it. But when I look at her, she's actually smiling. A real smile.
"You're uncomfortable." She states.
"I… it's not you. But yeah, a little."
She laughs lightly, and it's the sweetest sound. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh, but that makes me feel better. Why are you uncomfortable?" Amused, she tilts her head and reaches for a garlic knot on the table. I watch her break it apart and it helps shed some of the tension.
"I guess I'm just not used to—"
"Excuse me? Are you Raze? 27-0 so far this year, right? You're amazing, man! I follow you on Twitter. Could I get your autograph?" A young guy asks me, his date hovering behind him. I don't want to be rude, I'm generally a nice guy. But I'm busy. Clearly. Deciding just to sign the napkin, I give him a succinct, 'thanks' and it gets him gone fast enough.
"Sorry about that."
"It's okay. Does that happen often? I didn't realize you were autograph famous…" She scrunches her brow in confusion, still munching on bread.
I attempt to answer but the server returns with drinks, interrupting us. And this is how the entire night goes. We make a tiny bit of progress in conversation, and we're interrupted. By the server. By more fans.
By the time we get our dinner, we've been here for 45 minutes, and we've barely made any progress. Emma tries to ask me about my family, but I deflect.
I'm half-Indian, half-Italian, and I doubt there are that many of us, so if I answer her questions, she may start to suspect I'm Rafi. Especially if I talk about my Italian side, which I grew up with. I'm a lot more connected to that culture because I was raised in such a strict, proudly Italian home, and pen pal Emma and I have talked a lot about my feelings toward my respective cultures.
She knows I'm a great Italian cook, but only because I was forced to be, and I don't cook like that anymore because I still hold a lot of resentment toward my grandmother and aunt. She knows I didn't go to college and that I never had a pet. She knows where I grew up and how many times I left the country, that I've never been to India but plan to someday.
Emma from my letters knows a shit ton about me. This Emma wants to learn and deflecting her questions all night is creating a schism between us. The gap is widening with each question she asks and I don't answer. We finish our meals, and while the awkwardness between us is gone, it's replaced with a loaded silence. Things left unsaid. Expectations unmet.
After being interrupted by yet another fan, the server clears everything away. This was a shitty date. But she's still looking at me like she wants more. All those subtle cues I'm trained to see, she's giving them all to me. Heated gaze, a light blush along her neck and cheeks. She still wants me. I'm not giving up.
Even as I pay and drive her home and we get into an argument about me dropping her off at her front door rather than the coffee shop, because she won't tell me where she lives—it's fun. We're peeling back the layers. Hell, maybe I'm an optimist.
She lets herself into the coffee shop and I wonder why she's so nervous to tell me where she lives. Does she not trust me? I can't blame her when I haven't been honest with her.
When I get home, I unlock the gate before taking the short steps two at a time and head inside. The loud crash and shouts from a video game reach me, and I hook right towards the living room and find Roxy and Tina still hanging around with a sprawled-out Stetson. They're watching him play, they must really want to hang out with him to put up with that boring shit.
"Woah! You're back already?" He asks, glancing between me and the TV screen, trying not to lose his concentration. He holds the controller in his hands and his whole body moves with it, leaning left, then a quick right, as if that gives him a better chance at beating whoever he's playing against.
I'm amused at how bad the date was, actually, but I'm not worried. Stetson shouts at the screen, followed by a loud explosion reverberating out of the speakers, he tosses the controller on the table and looks at me, surprised to find I'm not upset.
"Yeah. I'm gonna try again tomorrow."
"Try again…?"
"Another date."
"Did she not show?"
Will I lose street cred for taking a girl I've been stalking for a year out on a date and failing miserably? Probably.
"No, she showed. It, uh… it was good. We just ended it early. I'm gonna ask her out again tomorrow, that's all." I shrug, expecting this to answer any lingering questions.
"You took her to Viola right?"
"Yeah, thanks for that shit advice. I was swamped with autographs for an hour."
Understanding dawns in his expression, somewhat apologetic. "Shit, I didn't think of that. Well, sorry you didn't get laid, bro." I shake my head. He's an idiot.
"What a shame," Roxy winks at me, despite her hands being wrapped around Stetson's arm, cuddling into him on the couch. Tina hasn't said anything yet and I think it's best not to acknowledge her, so I say goodnight and head up to my room.
I take off the stupid Armani jacket and change into sweats so I can head to the basement gym and stretch for a bit before crashing. I step into the en suite bathroom, but a minute later I hear my bedroom door creak.
Dread and annoyance wash over me. Sure enough, Tina is standing there, completely topless, ready to take off the rest of her clothes. She hooks her thumbs under the waistband of her jeans and moves to push them off with a dramatic hip roll, biting her lip, giving me hooded eyes when I snap into action.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I ask, exasperated.
"I thought you might need to take the edge off… I'm here. You can use me." Her voice is breathy, I imagine she's aiming for sexy, but the desperation in her tone is pathetic. I'm certain I've never given this chick a reason to think I'm into her.
"Look, Tina, you seem like a nice girl. Kind of. But I'm not interested."
Her expression doesn't waver, determined.
"You can fuck me, Raze, however you want. Right now, and no one would have to know. I won't tell anyone." She steps closer to me. "I'll suck your cock. I'll do anything you want."
"Woah, okay. Tina, it's time to go." I step around her, grabbing her shirt off the ground and open the bedroom door. Holding her shirt out without looking at her, I keep the door wide open, making it abundantly clear what I do want from her. To leave and never come back. For the second time this week, I want to kill Stetson.
"You'll change your mind," she says as she grabs her shirt. "See you around, Raze," her tone more confident now, making me uneasy.
I slam the door shut behind her and lock it. I'll stretch in my room, no fucking way am I crossing paths with that crazy bitch again. I send Stetson a quick text to tell him what happened and to keep her out of the house from now on, then get on with my stretches.