“You’re gonna blow them away.” I raise my soda can at him.
“I expect Griggs and his buddies won’t waste any time making fun of a backwoods redneck,” he says, one corner of his lips ticking upward, “but I’ll enjoy knowing they’re on the losing end of the joke.” He stares at the can sweating in his palm. “I’ve wondered what they’d think of me, if they knew where I actually come from.” There’s an almost imperceptible layer of shame under his words, and I muse whether he’s thinking back to his childhood. I want to know more, but I also don’t want to push him to reveal the painful parts of his life before he’s ready.
I need to be patient, I tell myself. But it’s easier said than done.
“It’s so damn hot,” I say instead, pulling at my T-shirt, damp with sweat. “I may actually melt.” I take a long swig of my Coke.
“You got a swimsuit in that fancy SUV of yours?” he asks, jumping off the tailgate, then tugging off his T-shirt.
“I didn’t realize I’d be needing one,” I counter, my voice dropping off at the sight of his bare torso.Ave María, Madre de Dios.I’m wonderstruck at the real-life six-pack before me, and the stunning watercolor tattoo of a mountain landscape on the left side of his chest. My fingers itch to touch the pine trees etched on his skin, the mountain ridges behind them, the full moon that perfectly complements his wolfish eyes, the two little birds inked over his heart.
“You’re good like this.” Eli gives my T-shirt and shorts, mybare arms and legs, a once-over. His Adam’s apple bobs as he brings his hands to my waist, then pulls me to a stand before him. He then takes me by the hand, teasing me as he drags us along Fort Yargo’s sandy beach, threatening to throw me over his shoulder when I complain that I can’t go in the water fully dressed, and then insist that a lake beach is, in fact, not a real beach.
“It really doesn’t get any more redneck than this,” he exclaims as we plunge into the glorious cool water. Eli’s self-deprecating laugh illuminates his entire face in a way I’ve never seen before. His eyes glint, mirroring the sun’s bright reflection on the water. His cheeks radiate with an easy contentment that permeates even his speech. His words come out natural and relaxed, not artificial and defensive, as they tend to be when we’re around other people.
This is the real Eli, I think. I laugh, too, diving into the sweet release from the oppressive heat. When I come back up for air, I tilt my head up, relishing the tingle of sunshine on my skin and the sand against my toes.
We wade in place for a while, watching the families spread out across the beach—parents grilling hot dogs, toddlers in little arm floaties, teenagers playing volleyball.
“I used to love those carbon-smoked hot dogs,” he observes, smiling wistfully to himself. “My mamaw used to bring us here over the summer.”
“Is she still around?” I ask.
“She died a few years ago.” His gaze is intent on the shoreline, where some kids are building a sandcastle. “She left us her house, in Westlake. I’m not sure we could’ve managed otherwise.”
In the weeks we’ve spent together, this is the first time he’s offered a part of himself unprompted. I contemplate what it means, that he’s finally trusting me with pieces of his real life. Could I do the same? Could I open myself up to him, too? Be vulnerable? Or as Holly said, step outside my comfort zone, take a risk.
I suck in a deep breath and ready myself to sink or swim.
“Eli?” I start, tentatively. “Is there anything going on? With you and Virginia, I mean?” I let go of his hand, slowly paddle myarms, pushing the water around me. “And trust me…” I add, self-aware, “I know how nuts that question sounds given that we’ve been pushing you to do whatever it takes to make this crazy scheme work.” I look at him in earnest, my eyes fixed on his gray irises. “But if I’m being honest, I didn’t know what we were asking. I didn’t know you. And now…” He glides closer to me, holding my gaze. “It’s different. We’re different. And I just need to know. Okay?” I shrug dismissively, but my heart couldn’t feel more defenseless and exposed.
“Luisa,” he says, reaching for my arms under the water. “Nothing has happened between Virginia and me. And nothingwillhappen. I promise you.” I study his expression, searching for any indication of a lie, but I find none. He can see my apprehension, and he releases an audible sigh, his head angled slightly. “I know you think I’m some kind of hustler or whatever,” he says, sounding disgusted at the thought, “but I don’t go around hooking up randomly. That’s not my thing.” His thumbs run over my biceps, lightly caressing my skin in a way that implores me to stay, to believe him. “I’m not exactly a no-strings-attached kinda guy.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask. The current shifts and our legs brush against each other, moving us even closer. “You are, after all, a single guy.”
“What I mean is that I don’t really date, or hook up, or whatever.” At the admission, a flush creeps over his cheeks. “I’m responsible for my younger sister, Pearl,” he says, surveying my expression for a response. “I’m her legal guardian. So when I’m not working to keep us afloat, I’m essentially her parent, which doesn’t leave much time for anything else—or anyone else.”
He runs one hand over his wet hair. I glance down to his chest, over his heart, where two little birds are frozen mid-flight. I venture one fingertip over the ink. “Are these meant to be you and your sister?”
He nods, reaching for my hand over his chest, then interlacing my fingers with his. My heartbeat speeds up at the touch.
“How old is she now?” I ask, trying to absorb the details of his reality, process the weight of his responsibility.
“She’s almost eighteen,” he says, squeezing my hand under water. “She’ll be heading to college in the fall.” He smiles proudly, like a father would, and I see in the corners of his eyes that this has been a hard-earned accomplishment. I don’t know the whole story yet, but I can sense how much he’s had to struggle just to get by, to ensure a good future for his sister. My chest swells with affection and tenderness, and also curiosity. I want to be the person he trusts with his secrets, I realize. I want to earn that place in his life.
“So what are you saying exactly?” I ask, leaning into a more playful energy, finally relaxing into the sunlight and wild landscape around us. “I shouldn’t expect you to take me out on a real date?”
Eli grins, his whole body slackening as he pulls me into him with both hands. My legs wrap tightly around his waist. I throw my arms around his bare shoulders, skin warm from the sun. “What are you doing tonight?” he asks.
Our first official date winds up at the White Windmill Bakery & Cafe. My sun-kissed skin glows from our time at the lake, and I’m giddy with sugar and pure joy. Eli asked his sister to help him plan the ideal “foodie night out,” a tall order considering I once reviewed restaurants forThe Georgia Times. They drew up a list of five Buford Highway “hidden gems” and dishes to taste at each stop, all part of a global culinary extravaganza that, so far, rates as the best date night of my entire life.
We savored Thai street food at Tum Pok Pok, revolving sushi and sake at E-Gyu, pork dumplings at Northern China Eatery, a taco tasting at La Guelaguetza, and now, dessert at what happens to be my all-time favorite French Korean bakery and cafe.
I’m glad I listened to Holly and took a risk. I guess she was right after all—this feels like such a sweet reward.
“I’m not gonna lie,” I say, bubbling with laughter, “watching you attempt to order a taco de cabeza from that very confused abuelita at Plaza Fiesta was probably the highlight of my year.” Igasp for air, remembering how she kept pushing a platter with a whole roasted pig’s head in his direction, and the hysterical bewildered expression on his face.
“Thanks for the help,” he says, laughing over the table. We’re seated across from each other at one of the cafe’s small tables for two. “I didn’t want to be disrespectful, but there’s no way I was having dead pig eyes staring at us on a first date. There’s no coming back from that.”
