“Today’s been better,” she confessed, looking over at me. “It’s the first day since everything went down that I haven’t cried yet, so that’s progress.”
“Progress, not perfection. And even slow progress is better than no progress. Not crying is a definite win.”
“That’s a great perspective to have.”
“In sports, I learned early on how important perspective is.” Our conversation paused temporarily as our waitress came to take our orders. When she left, I asked, “Your brother getting on your nerves yet?”
Her laughter was soft as she shook her head. “He’s content now that he was able to get his hands on Justin last night. Apparently, he saw him at a sports bar and cornered him in the bathroom. I don’t know why he did that in a public place knowing it can lead to bad press but . . .”
“Bad press don’t matter. Not when it comes to protecting someone you love.”
She shrugged. “I guess. He’s letting me paint the guest room I’m in pink, so that’s a win.”
“What about your tree house?”
The shock that covered her pretty face made it clear she wasn’t expecting me to remember she wanted a tree house. I remembered the first time I went to Senior’s house for a barbecue, I found her outside on that swing. Random small talk led to her telling me about how she wanted a tree house to read and close the rest of the world out.
“Oh. Um, . . . I decided to get one at my home so it’ll be my permanent little place of peace.” Her head tilted and mouth parted slightly. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“It’s easy to remember everything about you, Eli.”
Silence found us for a while as she stared at me before she cleared her throat and shifted her attention back to the ocean.
“So, you wanted us to talk about ourselves?” Eli confirmed, and I didn’t mind her shifting the conversation. There would be plenty of chances for me to make her melt in the future, and I intended to take advantage of every one.
“Yeah. I know we know a few of the facts about each other, but the more we know, the easier this will be. Plus, the more time we spend around each other, the more organic our intimacy will appear in public.”
“Speaking of intimacy, how much intimacy are we talking?” she asked. “Hugs, holding hands?” Her voice lowered, and the innocence of it when she leaned forward to ask, “Kissing?” caused an unexpected laugh to leave the pit of my belly.
“I mean . . . I would say whatever feels comfortable in that moment. Hugging and holding each other along with holding hands sounds natural for friends turned lovers. I feel likepaparazzi especially will want us to kiss, but we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with that.”
“I’ve been thinking about it, and since you said you didn’t kiss women in that video, us kissing will make this look real. I’d be okay with it as long as the first time it happened was private and real. Well, not real, but you know what I mean.”
“Oh, it’ll definitely be real,” I countered. “The relationship may be fake, but everything I say and do to you and for you will be real, Smiley.”
Cupping her hands, she looked at me hesitantly. “What does that mean exactly?”
Deciding to be completely honest, I admitted, “It means I’ve always had a thing for you, and I’m going to take full advantage of being able to have you in this capacity. So when I hold you, kiss you, talk sweet to you, all of that will be real.”
“You like me?” she asked sweetly.
“Yeah. Always have, and I’m sure I always will.”
Eli smiled and took my hand into hers. “I’ve always liked you too. I knew nothing could ever be between us for a couple of reasons, so I was excited about being your fake girlfriend.”
I didn’t have to ask what the reasons were, because I already knew. It wasn’t just her brother; it was also my stance against love and relationships. My mother loved my father so much that her spirit died when he did. She loved him so much she couldn’t bear the sight of me when he died. A lot of people believed they had a toxic relationship because my father died of a drug overdose, but that was an incorrect assumption. They also thought I didn’t have a healthy example of love because my father died when I was so young, but that wasn’t true either.
My father showed me how to love a woman based on how he loved my mother. He wasn’t an addict by choice. An accident at work led to him needing pain pills. When his job stopped covering the pills after the allotted time their insurancerecommended, he had to get relief from the streets. His shit was laced, and the rest as they say is history. I thank God that he didn’t suffer for long. About six months after he started buying drugs illegally, he overdosed. And while his pain may have been over then, mine had just begun.
So it wasn’t because I didn’t know or see love that made me not want it. It was because I’d seen how loving a person too hard could change the trajectory of your life. My mother abandoned me because of her love for my father, and one of her brothers committed suicide after his wife died because he didn’t want to live without her. If love made you that weak and dependent, I wanted no parts of it.
Eli and I spent the next hour or so talking about things real couples talked about during that get to know you stage. I learned that her love language was quality time because she needed to feel chosen, wanted, and like she belonged. If no one else understood that, I did. With the senses, she loved touch. I was the same way.
She loved recreational intimacy and active dates, which would be easy to plan. Justine and her team were going to be planning a lot of things for us to do, but I had already made up in my mind to plan dates for us on my own. I loved that she was into outdoorsy shit because that was my lane. It would be easier for me to plan those kinds of dates versus the overly romantic ones.
I asked her what was one date she wanted her man to plan in the future, and she said a hot air balloon breakfast or dinner, so I put that piece of information in the front of my memory.
We talked about our goals, passions, and purpose. I wouldn’t say I had a purpose beyond making the most of this life, but I did know football was my passion. Hers was books. When she shared with me that she wanted to open a bookstore one day, I couldn’t help but ask her why she hadn’t done it already.
