Meet you in the lobby at 6:30?
I follow Google Maps to take me to the pin Asher sent me and I pull up to the apartment building several minutes early. I think this might have been the earliest I’ve left work in years. I was out the door at a quarter past five, dashed home to heat up one of those pre-made healthy meals (as usual), scarfed that, then spent the next twenty-three minutes positively freaking out about wearing a bathing suit in front of him.
It’s getting harder and harder to ignore the physical pull I feel toward him when we are together, much less when we’re alone, and I think I might be done holding out on him. The more I get to know him, the stronger that magnetism feels, the more certain I am about it. About a future between us not being that bizarre.
As I stared at the four bathing suits I owned, all laid out on my bed for my review and eventual decision, I worried that it wasn’t smart to put myself in an enclosed space with him, with no possibility of roommates walking in on us, and in a rather skimpy two-piece (well, according to my standards—I’m sure Christina has one-pieces that show more skin) if I wasn’t ready to jump into the deep end with him, pun sort-of intended.
I’m not sure that I’ll be able to avoid finally giving in to that tension that’s always present between us next time we’re alone together. In fact, I suspect him in nothing but board shorts and me in nothing but a swimsuit will take that tension from an almost unbearable eight point nine to a twelve. The physical urges I can’t help but feel when I’m with him, or think about him, or even when my phone lights up withnew message from Spam Likely, they’re getting intense. The other day I got an actual spam call my phone had flagged as “spam likely” and by the time I answered and realized it definitelywasn’tAsher, I was already craving him.
So, yeah. My odds of keeping our relationship in the “talking” stage after tonight aren’t looking so good.
And honestly? What am I even worried about at this point?
I know I want to pursue a relationship with him. The whole getting to know each other thing has only made us crazier for each other. I guess I know myself, and if we have the kind of physical chemistry Ithinkwe do… I’m going to be screwed. In more than one way.
I’m so close to just jumping into this thing with Asher head first, but weneedto take this somewhat slow. I know that it wouldn’t go over well with either of our families, and probably most of society, not to mention HR at the office, if it were to come out we were in an…entanglement, to usetheword of 2020. We need to know how this will work long term, to be sure there’s a real future there before we let anyone else in on what’s between us. Hence the newest rule we introduced. Secrecy above all else.
The questions, the pressure, the demands, the trouble that will follow that news…we don’t need that yet, if ever. For now, we need to know there’s anusworth fighting the rest of the world for.
Whereas I might have needed to be at a seven out of ten on the certainty scale to move the relationship forward with David, or my ex before him, I feel like I need to be at a nine or higher in order for it to make sense to pursue a real, honest-to-God public relationship with Asher.
So the next logical step would be to…get physical. Make sure I’m not signing up for aDavid part deuxsituation (though no part of me thinks I am, to clarify).
I’m not as nervous about that as I thought I would be. I’ve never slept with a guy after dating for only a few weeks (I know, I know, I’m old-fashioned), but with my first boyfriend, I was still in the “waiting to lose it” phase, and with David, there was never a burning need to get physical. We just made so much sense on a logical level, and we got along so well in other areas, eventually I just felt it was the next step for us to take.
With Asher, it’s been abattleto not give in until now. No one has ever caused the reactions in my body that he does. Whether it’s from that damn half-smirk, the glint in his eyes when I know he’s thinking something inappropriately dirty, or he’s doing thatthinghe does where he parts his lips and touches the very tip of his tongue to his eyetooth when he’s processing something that amuses or surprises him…Agh!Stop thinking aboutthatlook, woman!You don’t need to walk in with your thighs squeaking and sliding before you’ve even seen him tonight.
Get. It. Together. Mitchell.
I send off a text to let him know I’m parking and do one final mental checklist before I get out of the car and head into the lobby to meet him.
Jean shorts? Check
Shirt? Check
Hoodie? Check
Birth control still current? Check
Extra underwear? Check
Bathing suit? Check
I look down and lift up my shirt to see the slimming black one-piece I chose in the end doing its darndest to suck in my pooch, and say a silent prayer he’ll like what he sees.
I let out a nervous exhale as I get out of the car, shove my keys in a front pocket and my phone in a back one, being sure the spare underwear are still safely ensconced in the other front pocket. I grab the hoodie out from the front seat and tie it around my waist.
I’m not the kinda gal that can go braless, ever, but I thought it would be worse to bring a bag of extra clothes—it might set expectations or look presumptuous, despite the somewhat innocent swimming date.
So I wore my bathing suit under my outfit and figure if Idoend up doing a walk of shame back to my car later, sans bathing suit if the night is a success, I can go braless and just wear the hoodie overtop my shirt, and hope that crossing my arms as I run to the car will be enough coverage that I won’t scar any random onlookers who happen to be peeking out of their windows that late.
Did I lose you? I probably lost you. That’s okay, I have to stop for just a second and just laugh at myself. Out loud.
It’s the most Ellie thing ever to have not one but TWO backup plans for how this night might turn out.
Or might not.
You are such a nerd, that inner voice mocks.
