When wedding season hits, work is beyond busy. People get marriage and true love on the brain when they’re forced to spend every weekend from May through September witnessing love over and over again. A fun perk during wedding season is that we get the occasional engagement announcement of successful matches. It’s a hectic but fulfilling time.
Despite working a ton, I find time for Daniel because guess who loves digital organization more than me? I’m responding to an email at my desk when Daniel texts me with a link to a shared calendar called “Daniel and Cassia Date.” It’s hard not to smile as I open it and find that he’s input all his availabilities for the next month. I add mine, and within minutes, I get a calendar invite for a hike that weekend.
“You are a very outdoorsy Brit,” I say between huffs as we walk up a steep trail in Griffith Park. The sun is out and I am sweating profusely in my tank and shorts. I have the world’s biggest straw hat on because all headwear pride goes out the window after a certain age.
Daniel stops under the blessed shade of an oak tree, letting mecatch up. “Excuse you, but Brits aren’t all dandies sitting around parlors. I’ll have you know some of us spent our childhood summers in the woods.”
“Did you?” I ask as I take advantage of our break to take a swig from my water bottle.
“I did,” he said. “My grandparents lived in Kent and I spent weeks tramping through the forest nearby.”
“Aw, like Christopher Robin,” I say and he sprays a little water on me from his bottle. But I gather all these little facts about him like a magpie.
We reach a peak overlooking all of Los Angeles, the sky a pale blue with a layer of gray hovering over the city. “This is one of my favorite spots in the entire city,” he says. “When I first came here I couldn’t believe everyone had access to all this nature.”
I take it in—the clear grid of streets, downtown a clump of buildings in the distance, the palm trees that outline this city like topographic borders. Everyone in L.A. loves hiking, but it’s never really been my thing. I didn’t grow up in a “nature” family—the trips I take on my birthday are usually my only jaunts into the wild for the most part.
“Thanks for sharing this with me,” I say. “I feel like it’s always the transplants that show me new stuff in my own city.”
Daniel comes closer and fans me with his hands. “Even if I make you hike in the middle of the day?”
“I won’t hold that against you. I know people who didn’t grow up here actually like the heat.” When I say it, he reaches down and kisses me. The temperature goes up a few degrees.
A few days later, I’ve scheduled a date for us—at a K-Town spa. On my way there, Mar texts, asking if I want to meet her at a bookstore for browsing and a coffee. I tell her I’m on my way to see Daniel.
Again? You guys have been hanging out like a lot a lot.
Yeah—fast forward courtship, baby!
No more communication with Ellis, then, huh?
I get annoyed and put my phone on Do Not Disturb. Ever since the Echo Park Lake rescue, Mar has brought up Ellis a couple times and while I understand that he endeared himself to her by saving her child, I need her to stop bringing him up. I’m in this with Daniel, and we’ve already been dating for a couple weeks, and I really wish she could just be one hundred percent behind me on this.
Daniel somehow manages to look good in the cotton T-shirt and shorts they provide for us at the spa. “It’s offensive how handsome you are,” I say.
He grins, comfortable with compliments in a way that makes him more attractive somehow. “Well, Iamgoing to be judged by a bunch of halmonis, you know.”
“You will, and probably the halabujis, too,” I say as I lead us to the salt room.
“Oh, Iknow,” he says. “I just showered and sat naked in soaking tubs surrounded by very curious farsighted eyeballs.”
While I laugh, I wonder if there was something very worth looking at. We haven’t slept together yet and while I’m not in a huge rush for it, I am starting to feel the embers of impatience whenever we touch, when our bodies hover near each other’s—the desire thick between us. I have faith in our compatibility but…it would be nice to have confirmation.
The salt room is empty when we walk in—a dimly lit space full of pink salt and bamboo mats. We lie down on the mats, resting our heads on contoured wood blocks. The sound of woodwinds wafts over us. “According to my grandmother, the salt in this room is thousands of years old and when it’s infused into our bodies, it fixes an array of ailments.”
Eyes closed, Daniel murmurs, “Hm. Sure, it’s also very relaxing.”
“That too.” I glance over at him and get a good look while he can’t see me. His strong profile and relaxed posture communicates so much to me: steadiness and strength. Confidence. Is that what has drawn me to him life after life? It does appeal to me, obviously. We’re an Excel-sheet power couple.
Later we grab lunch in the spa, sitting on the heated floors with a low wood table between us. The setting reminds me of the weird dream/vision I had at the sound baths. I can’t believe it’s been more than a month since my birthday. Ellis feels like both yesterday and a lifetime ago.
We immediately start sharing our meal, as though we’ve done it before. Daniel takes some soy sauce and scallion–covered tofu and puts it in my bowl of rice. I push the kimchi closer to him when I can tell he needs it. Everything is well-orchestrated despite us having had no practice.
Well, in this life anyway.
“So, how’s your first K spa experience?” I ask him.
“Other than being ogled by old men—great,” he says.
