Seventeen
Elle
“Show me a picture of him!” Lucy squeals on the other end of my phone.
“You’re ridiculous,” I mutter, rolling my eyes at her.
“Well, you won’t tell me his last name, so I can’t stalk him myself,” she complains. I text her the link to Henry’s Instagram for the gym just to stop her complaining.
“There, are you happy now?”
“Holy crap,” she says, putting the phone so close to her face I can only see her nose. I put my head in my hand, waiting for her investigation to conclude.
Lucy just happened to call me as I was getting ready for my date with Henry, and if I didn’t answer the phone, she would have called in a SWAT team.
So I was caught. I got a fifteen-minute lecture for going on dates that she A) didn’t know about and B) wasn’t able to track my location for.
I told her Oliver knew where I was. Which led to a ten-minute rant about how she’s been replaced.
I didn’t counter with the fact that she’s the one who moved away, because then I really would have been late.
When Lucy is finally done stalking Henry’s Instagram, and I’m finished with my makeup, both of our attentions turn back to the screen.
I’m sitting at my bar top and she is laying on her couch.
I can just barely make out the tip of Blue’s nose on her chest. If I wasn’t already dressed, I’m sure Thor and I would be in a similar position on the couch.
Oliver is working until midnight tonight, so I told him I’d text him if I got home later than that, so he could come in and get Thor.
Thor is getting better at being alone, but not for twelve hours at a time.
“I have to admit, I’m conflicted,” Lucy finally says.
“About?”
“I think Oliver is cuter. I mean Henry clearly has the bigger muscles, but I worry he is overcompensating for something. Oliver though, there’s no way that it’s not huge—”
“Okay, stop!” I interrupt too loudly. “Lucy, it’s not a competition. I’m going out with Henry. Oliver is not… We’re not…”
There’s an awkward moment of silence between us.
“Are there ends to those sentences?” she asks plainly.
“Ugh, I can’t have this conversation right now,” I moan, looking at the clock. I’m meeting Henry in a few minutes.
“What conversation?” Lucy sits up abruptly, and Blue whines in annoyance. “What is there to talk about? Did something happen with you and Oliver?”
“Okay, calm, please,” I beg, putting my hand out to the phone. “Nothing happened, it’s just… I don’t know. We’ve had moments.”
“Moments?” Lucy echoes. “Well, I must alert the church elders.” She laughs at her own joke.
“I’m going to hang up on you.”
“Did you use protection?” she adds, cracking herself up even more. When I give her a death glare, she tries to stifle her giggles. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! But come on, Elle. Be honest. Are you just wasting your time with Henry?”
“I definitely can’t have that conversation right now. He’ll be here any minute!”
“Do you feel attracted to him, yes or no?” Lucy asks.
“Attraction isn’t everything—”
“It’s a big thing.”
“He’s really sweet—”
“Candy is sweet.”
“You’re not helping!” I whine. I shake my head, trying to somehow escape the awkwardness of this conversation. After a deep breath I say, “It doesn’t matter, Luce. Oliver doesn’t want me. He—”
“I don’t want to hear what he wants. I care about you.
” Her voice is stern, all sarcasm gone. She’s gesturing with her hands as she speaks.
“Yes, Henry is gorgeous in a short king kind of way. But there is never, ever any reason to settle if there’s no fireworks.
Don’t settle for less than what you deserve. ”
I feel a pressure in my chest as she says those words, and I think my eyes might start welling up. I refuse to cry. I just got my eyeliner right.
“I’m just tired of being alone,” I finally whisper. I gulp down the knot in my throat after the words leave my lips. I’m tired of being there for everyone else and no one showing up for me.
“Oh, Elle—” A knock at the door interrupts whatever she was about to say. Thor erupts into a barking tantrum.
“I’ve got to go, Luce. Henry is here. I’ll call you tomorrow,” I say.
“I love you babe,” Lucy yells at the phone, as if to stop me from hanging up.
“Love you too,” I reply, and end the call.
I don’t let myself think about what she just said. Henry is nice and he does not deserve to be left standing at my door. I stand at the entrance to my apartment and put one hand on my heart and one on my belly, and breathe in deep. I exhale as I open the door.
*
“Favorite food?”
“Chinese, definitely,” I answer easily.
“Dessert?”
“Chocolate chip cookies.”
“Beach or mountains?” Henry asks, taking another bite of his chicken.
Oh for the love of God, I feel like I’m on a dating game show.
Lucy has ruined this date for me. She’s put thoughts in my head about doing what is right for me and not settling and I can’t shake them.
“Beach,” I say. “Unless it’s going to the mountains to visit my friend Lucy,” I add, regretting that I now have to go into the whole Lucy and her mountain man story.
I feel bad calling Henry “settling,” but this feels like work.
I’m putting on my “Third Date Elle” face, laughing at all the right moments, being dainty about my napkin on my lap, and even letting Henry touch my hand from across the table.
With another glass of wine, I would probably go home with him.
But with Lucy’s voice echoing in my head, not even an extremely attractive buff guy can do anything for my libido.
Henry is great. He is. He’s just not—
I don’t want to finish that thought. But I can’t help the slew of images that flood my brain of my time with Oliver.
Most days he sees me without makeup, unlike the full cat-eye look I put on for tonight.
Sometimes I’m not even wearing a bra. I never feel like I’m pretending with him.
I’m just me. I feel like I know more about him than I could glean on a thousand dates with Henry, and I didn’t get that information from endless trivia questions.
I can’t blame Henry. He is doing what people do on a date.
He’s trying to get to know me. I just don’t have the energy for it.
But I’m nothing if not a people pleaser, so I schmooze my way through dinner, all the while trying to find something that I really like about Henry.
In fairness, there’s a lot to like. Family oriented.
Cute. Funny. Doesn’t judge when I order an appetizer and an entrée for myself, and neither of them are salads.
And yet, my mind keeps drifting to a guy who clearly stated that he wants different things than me.
Henry walks me back to my apartment again, and I spend the whole time thinking about how I just want to put my pajamas on and cuddle with Thor.
Then I feel terrible for that thought. Henry shouldn’t settle for me either.
He walks me to my door and there’s an awkward moment of expectation between us.
When neither of us says, we both laugh nervously.
“Listen, I—”
“I had a—”
We smile sheepishly at each other for a moment. This is ridiculous. This man is great. Perfect, even. If there was a list for a man I should be inviting up to my apartment, he would check all the boxes. Why can’t I just be attracted to him?
I start to speak, catch myself, and then take a step towards Henry.
“Can I just—” I put my arms around his neck tentatively.
My fingers find the hair that trails down his neck and run my fingers through it.
How long has it been since I’ve been pressed up against a man?
And this is a nice man! I want to will myself to feel something…
“I just want to try something here, if that’s okay,” I say, running a thumb along his jaw.
Henry nods. I bring my lips to his and kiss him firmly.
He’s surprised at first, but quickly tightens his arms around me and splays his hands over my back.
His lips are soft, and the kiss is tender and gentle.
Our lips move together like they’re supposed to but…
I pull away, leaving Henry and his puckered lips frozen in time. I purse my own and furrow my brows, a bit frustrated. Henry awkwardly opens his eyes and says, “Well? Good experiment or…”
My arms are still around him, his hands low on my waist. It was a nice kiss. I mean, the best one I’ve had in a few years, but I don’t feel anything.
“Let me try again,” I say, really trying to push myself into the kiss. I slide my tongue between his lips, which should instantly get some reaction between my legs, and yet, there’s no fireworks.
Damn, I hate it when Lucy is right.
I pull back, settling down from my tippy toes and laying my hands on Henry’s chest. “What do you think?” I ask him.
He tilts his head. “I mean, very enjoyable. You’ll hear no complaints from me,” he says with an airy laugh.
“But did you feel any—?”
“Spark?”
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh.
“I really want to say yes,” he says, a defeated expression crossing his face.
“Ugh, me too!” I say exasperated. I step away from him, one hand still on his shoulder.
I look down at the ground. Letting someone down is so not something I do. I try to make things work until the very end. Heck, the last guy I dated I kept around until I literally forgot about two dates in a row. What was his name again? John? Lucy would know.
I sway nervously. “I really like you, Henry. I’m not trying to sound cliché when I say you are such a great guy.”
“But…” he starts. “Things just aren’t clicking.”
A wave of relief comes over me, and my body unclenches. “You feel it too?” I say, a sigh in my voice. He nods shyly.
“Ugh, I am so sorry,” I say, exasperated.
“Like, you don’t even know how sorry—” And for some reason, I reach out and hug him.
I don’t know why, but it happens so fast, both Henry and I don’t know what to do about it.
We stand there awkwardly for a second, his arms barely around my back and mine laying limply on his shoulders.
Our faces are so close, I can feel the heat radiating off of him.
“Hey, Elle, you have nothing to apologize about,” he says, resting one hand lightly on my hip. “You go out with people and sometimes it doesn’t work out. I still think you’re a great person. Not to sound cliché.” A small smile turns up the corner of his lips.
Good God in Heaven, why can’t it be him? Why am I so broken that I can’t accept this nice man in front of me for what he is? Why do I have to want more? Am I asking for too much?
Never settle for anything less than fireworks.
“I think you’re great, too,” I say, a pathetic look on my face, cringing at the fact that I’m repeating myself. I start to say “I’m sorry” again, but the look on Henry’s face stops me. “Oliver is going to be so disappointed in his first attempt at matchmaking,” I add instead.
Henry cackles. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” I give him a questioning look. “Never mind. Hey, I’ll see you around, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I reply. Henry backs up, holding on to one of my hands until the last moment, before letting it drop.
As I watch him walk down the street, I should feel some disappointment, like I’m letting a good thing go.
Instead, I feel relief. I was putting on a show for Henry, and trying to please Oliver by keeping up my end of the deal. But this is what is right for me.
And doing something that is right for me feels like its own form of fireworks.