Especially anything that involved describing what our future looked like. I know what I want it to look like, but the path to get there is unclear.
Which, of course, is why they decided I should bring him home for Christmas. Nothing says serious like spending a major holiday together. In my hometown. With my parents, siblings, in-laws, and niblings.
I told them he has to work, which might be entirely true. I haven’t asked. They begged me to, though. Insisted that if he’s going to date the baby of the family, they need to approve him. It’s a lot to subject someone to, especially at Christmas.
At the same time, maybe it’s the perfect opportunity. Everyone will be distracted by the presents and festivities. Too busy to interrogate my boyfriend. Plus, if he doesn’t come, we’ll be apart for several days. It’s not like we aren’t already, since our schedules don’t allow us to see each other every day, but this is different. There’ll be a lot of miles between us. Besides, I know he’s not going home to his family. I hate the idea of him sitting home alone.
All I have to do now is ask.
Since our last two dates have been out somewhere, I convinced him that our third one should be somewhere more private. Specifically, my place. After a bit of back and forth, we reached a mutually beneficial arrangement.
We’d stay in, but at his condo instead of my apartment. He argued that since we hang out there for our crocheting andrunning nights, a date required a change of scenery. Honestly, as long as I’m getting him to myself, I don’t care where we are.
As a bonus, I didn’t have to do any panic cleaning this week.
Plus, Aaron made dinner. Like, actually cooked.
“This is amazing,” I say around a mouthful of lemon pepper chicken.
“Thanks. It’s really easy.”
“I’m impressed.” Not that it takes much to impress me in the kitchen. My version of cooking is moving something from the freezer to the oven. “You’re welcome to cook for me anytime.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
I hope that means he’s going to be willing to have me over more often. It’s nice to be here alone, without all his other friends.
“What’s the plan tonight?”
“Well, I thought that we could watch a movie after dinner. I have a few picked out that we can pick from.”
“I’m sure they’ll be great.” I mean it, too. I suspect that, left to our own devices, our TV viewing habits are very different. Thus far, we’ve always managed to agree on something. Is it always my favorite? No, but spending time with Aaron is worth it even if his choice in sitcoms leaves something to be desired.
Plus, movie time means time on the couch together. If I play my cards right, I can turn that into something more.
“Can I help you with the dishes?” My mother would be so proud of my manners.
“Nah, I cleaned as I went, so just put your plate and utensils in the dishwasher.” The kitchen is spotless. My dad always cleans as he goes. He’s tried to teach me over the years, but no matter what I do, the counters end up looking like they’ve been through an explosion.
It only takes us a few minutes to put away the last remnants of dinner. It’s a strange experience, working side-by-side withhim in the kitchen. What would it be like to make dinner together? I’d probably end up mostly watching. It’s still a good idea for a date sometime.
In the living room, we settle on his sofa. I might pick a spot a little closer to him, hoping he’ll be okay with it. We haven’t really talked about the physicality—or lack thereof—in our relationship, other than Aaron telling me he wanted to keep it PG-13 until our relationship felt more secure.
“This okay?” he asks as he puts his arm around my shoulder. It’s a classic high school date move. Since I didn’t date much back then, it’s an experience I thought I’d missed out on. It’s maybe a little awkward, but strangely nice.
“Perfect.” I don’t know about Aaron, but I’m feeling very secure.
He flips through a few screens on the TV before pulling up the options he’d picked out for the night. They all look like action films. I’m not against those, but the ones I typically watch include more superheroes. These look more likeregular guyswho happen to save the day. “Whatever you like,” I finally say, unsure it’s even possible for me to come up with an answer about which one I prefer.
He settles on the middle choice and hits play. As the opening credits roll, he pulls me in a little closer. If we can stay like this for two hours, I don’t care what the plot is.
AARON
“Okay, how much did you hate it?” I’ve never seen anyone check their watch during a movie as often as Oliver did. I thoughtabout turning it off at least fifty times. Every time I asked, he always told me it was great.
If this was a typical third date, I’d probably believe him. Things between Oliver and me are anything but typical. In fact, they’re the exact opposite. It might be our third official date, but I’ve lost count of how often we’ve hung out together. Many of those times are spent in front of a television, watching one of the shows he picks out. From those, I’ve gotten a pretty good idea of what Oliver looks like when he’s engrossed in something.
“I didn’t hate it.”
