The (Actual) Date
"Do you realize I got more dressed up for our not date than I did for our real one?" I take a sip of my coffee.
Chandler smiles. "Well, it does help when I give you more than just a phone call ten minutes before I come down." He shrugs.
"No, it would have been better if you'd called me ten minutes before you'd come down and told me you were coming down! Instead of just showing up after a snippet of a conversation."
"Can we even call 'You busy' a snippet? It's more like," he looks up, literally searching for the right words. "I can't think of anything. But it was hardly a snippet." We walk for a bit in the park near the police station then settle on a bench. "So, first date stuff. Let's see. How long have you lived in Birdsboro? Or rather, since I know you came back not to long ago: When did you first come here?"
"I moved here when I was about six. Lived with my aunt for a time then moved to another place with just my mom and brother."
"And that's the place I picked you up from?"
"No, actually. The place you picked me up from is like, the tenth house I've lived in."
"Wow." I nod trying not to look amused. "Where all have you lived?"
" I was born in Jersey, then moved to Pennsy, then Florida, then back here. Up state Pennsy then back here. Almost lived in Ohio once. Almost lived in New York State once! How about you?"
"Well, mine isn't as bouncy as yours. I've lived in the same town all my life. But I did move homes. Just once though. From my parents into the place I'm in now when I was seventeen."
Knowing how some people are talking about their families I consider my next question. "I know you mentioned you and your family don't get along, but, why?"
"Oh, you know," he shifts on the bench, "Mother was a drug addict, father wasn't there. Blah, blah."
"And the rest of the family cast you out?"
"Gee, how'd you guess?" Smile. "Yeah, shunned if you will."
I fake roll my eyes. "Oldest story in the book." I look away from him and glance at a squirrel running up a tree.
"Oh, and your story isn't? 'I moved for love'," he says in a girlie voice while twirling imaginary hair.
"I didn't say I was more original than you." I give him a side ways smile. "So, did you ever meet your dad?"
"Not exactly. He was around when I was a toddler. Something happened and he left. I noticed your dad wasn't there the last few times I was over." He looks at me expectantly. "I remember you saying that just you, your mom, and brother moved into that other house. Is he not around or do I just have bad timing?"
"He is in Florida. He's actually the person I lived with for a bit." Pause. "You ever think of tracking your old man down?"
He hardly even thinks before he spits out, "Why would I? He left, his lose."
Bad choice, dumbass. "Okay, something other than the depressing lack of good father figures." I move my body so that I'm facing him. "Uh, do you read?"
I see his face soften. "Yeah, mostly murder mysteries. Thrillers. I'm guessing you read, too?"
"Yes. I read sci-fi stuff, young adult stuff, things about people in situations they don't want to be in. It makes me feel a bit better when they escape whatever tragic thing they are stuck in the middle of." I notice the sides of his mouth form a slight smile, as if he were inwardly laughing at me. "What?"
"Nothing. Just cute that you like fictional characters to be safe."
"I may get a little attached to the people in the stories. Got an issue?" I tilt my head back a little then smile sweetly so he know's I'm joking.
"Not at all. I love a girl that cares. Most just care how they look." He rolls his eyes. I look down at my torn jeans and raggy t-shirt. He must see me do it because he smoothly says, "I like the baggy look. Rips in jeans that weren't put there by a machine give a girl a nice edge." He pauses. "Kind of like 'Psh! I don't care what you think, bitch! Move on!'" A giggle I didn't want out escapes my lips.He laughs at my giggle then says, "What do you like on guys?"
"The baggy look. Tight fitting things on guys just freak me out." I scrunch my nose.
"Ha. How do you mean?"
"Well, like... them 'skinny jean guys' totally turn me off. Especially if they have no ass."
"What do you think of my ass?"
"Well, you don't wear the skinny jeans so I don't even know if you have an ass." After we laugh for a few, we're quiet. "Do you want to go back to my house and watch a movie? Middle of Birdsboro is only interesting for so long." He's silent. "I promise I wont get really drunk then offer you sex then take it back."
"So, you're not going to offer me sex?" He smiles.
"I didn't say that." I smile back.
Once in my basement bedroom I pop in a crappy movie that I know has been out for a long time and that basically everyone has seen. I may be twenty-two but I still like make-out sessions during movies. I lie back on the my bed and so does he. Not ten minutes into the movie, we are in full on make-out mode. I'm straddling him. His hands are on my back, under my shirt. My hands are gently pulling his hair every now and again. Next thing I know we're both laying down and he's on top of me. My shirt's come off and has been dropped next to my bed along with his. He stops kissing my lips and moves to my neck, leaving little nips. I squeeze him closer to me. He must think I'm having a sort of claustrophobic fit and he backs off. "You okay?" He raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I smile. "Just forgot how nice this feels, is all."
He moves to one side but is still on top and rest on his elbow. "Missed what?"
"Just, this. Intimacy."
"Didn't you just like..." he aimlessly moves his hand in the air, "you know with Carter not too long ago?"
"Well, yeah, but..." I trace his collar bone with my pointer finger, "He was just sex then go. There's not much foreplay and whatnot in a fuck buddy relationship. Or, at least not that one. I'm actually extremely happy he dropped me."
"You know what?"
He kisses my neck again then my upper chest. "He was crazy to. Dumb, really." I bite my lower lip a tad and he smiles. "Now, do you want me to put in a good movie instead of this crap?" I nod and he gets off. I pull the covers over me trying to compensate for him leaving. He pulls out a DVD from my bookshelf and doesn't tell me what it is. He comes back and lies down behind me.
I perk up when I hear the familiar starting music. "Labyrinth?" I say with a smile.
"Yeah. Grew up on this fucking movie." I'm still smiling when he pulls the covers back over us and puts his arm over my side. He tightens his grip so I'm right up against his chest.
© Copyright 2016 Iva Stone Adair. All rights reserved.
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