37. Posey
Posey
Idon’t know why I’m so nervous, but I’ve primped and fussed with my hair and makeup for the last hour in anticipation of seeing Brent.
We’ve done so much together the last few weeks, and we’ve seen each other at our best and worst. Going on a date with him shouldn’t be sending the butterflies in my stomach into overdrive.
But tonight feels like the start of something new.
When I emerge from my bedroom in the shortest, tightest dress I own, Destiny lets out a whistle. “That dress is fire! Where’s he taking you?”
Nadiya glances up from her phone. “Val took down the video, closed comments on her post of half-naked Brent, and changed the caption to confirm they broke up and she doesn’t have any bad feelings toward him.” She rolls her eyes. “A day late and a dollar short on all of it, but at least it’s done.”
With all the fluttering in my stomach, the last person on my mind is Val, but I’m glad my friends have my back.
The drama coupled with our return to school from the holidays has meant Brent and I haven’t spent much time together the last few weeks.
Val isn’t our problem as long as she stays out of our lives.
My revenge is being happy and enjoying a version of Brent that she, for better or worse, never got to see.
He said he was different with me, but part of me figured it was a nice line.
Having Val confirm he never treated her the same way he treats me was a real heart-stopping moment.
“You look nervous.” Nadiya clicks her phone closed. “You going to tell him that you like him—like him, like him?”
Rather than answering her, I lean down to check the straps on my high heels. Completely impractical for winter with the ice and snow on the ground, but I’m hoping I can stick to salted, shoveled paths. Or stick to Brent. If it’s slick and slippery, he’ll have to lend me a hand or two.
“You’re not going to answer her?” Destiny pops her gum. “I think the entire universe knows how he feels about you after his super sappy posts this past week.”
“They have not been super sappy.” I tug on the strap one last time and face them.
“He just posted another one.” Nadiya lets out a sigh. “At this rate, I think I might be in love with him.”
When I peer over her shoulder, it’s a black-and-white photo of just me, and I’m sleeping in his bed. Whether he got lucky or he learned a thing or two about camera angles from his ex, it’s a beautiful shot. The caption, like all the others, is simple.
In life there are plastic balls and glass ones. What I have with her is glass, and I’ll do everything I can to keep it from cracking.
“Deacon and I are having a chat,” Destiny says. “He never does shit like this for me, and we’re one-hundred-percent endgame. He needs to step it up.”
I’m rereading the caption again, and I’m trying to identify the emotion that’s welled up in me. It’s so thick my throat feels tight with it.
“Is it too soon to love him? I think I might love him.” My hand is over my heart, and I’m so full of emotion I could cry.
“You feel what you feel when you feel it. I knew pretty quick with Deacon,” she says.
“I’m still not sure about West.” Nadiya shrugs. “Love is unpredictable.”
Destiny smacks Nadiya’s arm. “That’s not a helpful comment. Our girl is dipping her toes in the love fountain. You gotta help ease her in.”
“The problem is,” I say, “I feel like I might be neck-deep in the water already.”
“Oh my god.” Destiny clutches her heart. “Our girl is in love.”
There’s playful mocking in her tone, but I’m too focused on my racing heart. “I can’t tell him that, though, right? It’s like way, way too early for the L bomb.” The thought of saying the words causes sweat to pool under my arms.
Nadiya stares at the post on her phone. “We’ve all learned social media is not representative of real life, but look at Brent’s feed... it’s swimming, and it’s you. You know how much he loves getting wet.”
That elicits a laugh, and the tension eases out of me a pinch. “Do I ever.” I give her an exaggerated wink.
“Your sexual innuendoes are wasted on me,” Nadiya says.
The downstairs buzzer sounds, and I grab my purse off the island and hustle to check the monitor. Brent is dressed in a suit, and my stomach dips. Forget the date. I want to drag him up here and make up for lost time. A suit? Hell, yes.
I snatch my winter jacket off the hook, and I’m out the apartment door before either of my roommates can tease me about how eager I am.
When he said he had a night planned for us and to dress nice, I had no idea he’d be wearing a suit too.
To most guys, dressing up is a pair of khakis and a polo shirt.
At the front entrance, I open the door, and Brent grins. The pure delight in his expression causes me to drop my purse and coat on the floor, and then I tackle him, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.
He chuckles against my lips, but he doesn’t hesitate to kiss me back, to support my legs, and to press me against the cold glass window. When I let out a gasp of surprise, he spins me around to brace me against the mailboxes instead.
I’ve missed this all-consuming passion, as though we can’t get enough of each other. Part of me wonders if I used to fake or inflate my desire with other guys because I’ve never felt this desperate surge of longing for anyone. We’re real in a way I’ve never experienced with another man.
“If we keep going, we’re not going to make dinner,” Brent murmurs against my neck.
Our apartment complex is normally busy, and anyone could walk in or out of the door at any moment. I’m also starving since we had to wait to start our date until after his swim practice was over. Earlier, I was too nervous to eat.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he eases my feet to the ground.
“I have plans,” he says, “and you don’t get to know them.”
“You’re going to wine and dine—”
“And sixty-nine,” he finishes with a smirk.
The urge to blurt out my feelings is so strong I have to turn my back on him to grab my coat and purse from the floor.
“If you could just bend a little lower,” Brent says from behind me.
I glance at him over my shoulder, and I do an exaggerated bend. “Like this?” I ask in a mock breathy voice.
“Such a tease.” Brent runs his hand along my ass and down my leg.
“Don’t worry,” I say, and I turn in his arms. “You’d have to really fuck up not to get laid tonight.”
“Do not underestimate my ability to fuck up a sure thing.”
“Whatever you’ve got planned will be fun.” I slap his chest and grab his hand.
“Should I be worried that I’m not having to heavily medicate you for this date? This is a real date.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m actually kind of surprised you didn’t bring me a giant bouquet of I’m-a-dick roses to make up for the hellish couple of weeks I’ve had.”
“I’m-a-dick roses?” His lips twitch as he holds open the door for me to step through.
“It’s a thing that I have decided will be our thing.” He holds my elbow so I don’t fall on the way to his car.
“Would the flowers need to be in the shape of a dick?”
“I would like to hear you order that arrangement,” I say as I slide into the car, and when he gets into the driver’s seat, I continue, “but I don’t need for it to actually exist.”
He starts the car and drives out of my parking lot along familiar roads near campus, and it doesn’t take me long to figure out where we’re headed. We park under the blue sign, but the restaurant looks deserted.
“I think they’re closed,” I say, checking my watch. “Weekdays they’re done at nine.”
“Let’s go check,” he says, and he circles the car to open my door and help me across the icy surface.
The sign is flipped at the entrance, and I shrug. “Closed.” There are lots of other places we can eat at, even if I’m touched he chose my favorite spot.
Brent tugs on the door, and he gives me a mischievous smile. “Open.” He steps back and waves me in. “Ladies first.”
As soon as I’m in the door, I’m struck by how different the place looks. There are fairy lights strung across the ceiling, and there are vases brimming with roses strewn around the main eating area. I press my hand to my chest, and another swell of emotion threatens to overwhelm me.
“Turns out, I already started the tradition of a truckload of I’m-a-dick roses without realizing it was going to be our thing.”
My purse and coat hit the floor for a second time as I whirl around and kiss him.
He slides his hands into my hair and returns the kiss with the same fiery passion I feel.
If I wasn’t sure Monty and his wife were lurking somewhere, I’d be trying to convince him that a quicky on or against any surface in this place was the best way to make sure both his heads are in the right places.
The sound of the kitchen door swinging open makes me draw away from Brent, but this time he swipes my coat and purse off the floor for me while I turn to greet Monty.
“Your boyfriend and his teammates came here to decorate for what I gather is a special occasion?” Monty quirks his eyebrows at the two of us.
“Special occasion?” I turn to Brent with a furrowed brow.
“You’ll see,” he says, and he tips his chin toward the table we sat at the last time we came.
I weave through the empty restaurant to our table, and I slide into my chair. “How did you convince them to let you do this?” I ask.
“Easy,” he says. “You’re his favorite customer.”
Surrounded by my favorite flowers in my favorite restaurant which reminds me of my favorite country on a date with my favorite guy. Sheer perfection.
“Did I nail it?” he asks.
“Bang, bang, bang, baby.” I grin.
I’m still staring at Brent in amazement when Monty delivers the first dish. One of my favorite chicken dishes, of course. When Brent gestures for me to dig in first, I don’t hesitate.
The food comes and goes while Brent and I chat about our holidays, our family, and what’s happening with our classes.
It’s easy, and the conversation reminds me of how natural it’s been from the first weekend for us to open ourselves up to each other.
Maybe Destiny is right that everyone feels what they feel when they feel it.
With him, it felt different almost right away.
When we met at the airport, I was in love with his outer package. Tall, fit, smoldering. As the weeks wore on, and we peeled away layers of each other with our clothes, the outer package was matched by an equal love for his mind and soul. There’s no part of him that I don’t love.
That thought would have terrified me when we met, and it still causes my heart to race to verbalize it. But I definitely feel it.
We’re lingering over dessert when Brent takes a small velvet box out of his suit pocket and slides it across the table. It’s the exact shape and size of a ring box, and I raise my startled gaze to his.
He wouldn’t, would he?
“No need to look like a deer about to get hit by a Mac truck. I’m not skipping from fake dating to getting married.”
I press a hand to my chest and breathe a sigh of relief. Dating is one thing, but marriage is something else entirely.
“It was supposed to be a Christmas present for you, but that didn’t quite go to plan. Instead, it’s an anniversary present.”
“Anniversary?” I laugh.
“Happy day zero,” he says, and he pushes the box closer with his index finger. “You and I have been real for a while, a long while, but I want it to be official.”
I crack open the box, and inside is a swimmer charm for the dangly bracelet I wear almost every day. My parents bought it for me when I left Bellerive, and I’ve been very selective about the charms I put on it. They have to mean something.
“Posey Jensen, will you be my girlfriend?”
I slip the charm out and hold it in my palm. Everything sings in me at the realization that we’re embarking on a real relationship. Tears prick at my eyes, and when I look at him, I’m all watery inside.
“Yes,” I say. “It’s a definite yes.”
He rises from the table, and he comes around to draw me into a hug. I cling onto him with the charm clenched in my hand.
“This might get complicated, though,” I say. “I’m in my last year of college, but you’ve got more of your MA, and I want to go home, and—”
“We can figure it out. We’re both independent people. That’s one of the things I love. We can have our own things, and we can have each other too.”
That sounds great in theory—really, really great—but I’ve never missed anyone the way I’ve missed him when we’re not together. I can’t imagine having him in my life full-time until college ends and then getting on a plane out of here, not being sure if we’ll work out.