Page 27 of Oh Boy!
“What were you reading about anyway?”
“Nothing much. Good guys. Bad guys. Wrong place, wrong time.” He grabs the carafe to refill his empty mug, sits back down, and starts reading again. “I’ll be done in a minute.”
From a distance, I observe him—well, us really—and my pulse quickens as a small smile tugs at my lips. Who would have thought that we’d easily fall into this simple and enjoyable routine after such a short time? I get joy from the mundane things we do together, although I know that sounds sappy.
Get a hold of yourself, girl! The guy’s drinking his coffee. Nothing to get all flustered over… Then why the heck is my skin on fire?
Rubbing my thighs together to control the urge that’s overtaking me at record speed, I sit opposite from him, where my breakfast awaits. I count to three, knowing that he’ll feed my curiosity if my impatience doesn’t get the best of me. Hence, I keep quiet.
“If you must know,” he starts, glancing my way.There!I pat myself on the back for identifying his tendencies. “I’m catching up on the murders that recently happened between Boston and Maine.” He slips in a few bites between sips of coffee. “Didn’t want to sour the mood with the gruesome actions of some psycho.” He discards the newspaper.
I shrug. “What a romantic conversation!” As if oblivious to what we’ve discussed, he shoots me a sexy smile, his eyes full of longing. “Guess I asked for it!” I redirect the conversation to safer territory and compliment his cooking skills. We make small talk and eat in comfortable silence while some cozy electro music plays from the Bluetooth speaker in the background. I’d never pictured Nathan as an electro fan; when he’s working, he favors Loreena McKennitt and the like. Somehow, I associated what I consider to be mystical music to his persona. There are so many aspects in which the real Nathan Price remains an enigma. “I still can’t get over the fact that you read a newspaper,” I blurt out once he’s finished loading the dishwasher and returned to his seat.
This sends me back to the first time I stayed at his place. Such a foreign sensation that I oddly embraced without an ounce of fear. Nathan told me that he preferred what he called traditional to modern technology. In spite of going viral on social media, he doesn’t spend much time on said media himself and prefers to spend his time reading a paperback. He admitted that he’s never read an article on his iPhone. The more intimate we became, the more I witnessed how true his statements were. Me? I appreciate both facets: the calligraphy icon and the old-fashioned teacher.
My eyes trained on him, he looks up from the paper. “I never got into the habit of reading the news online. I know it kills trees.” He squirms in his seat, aware of how sensitive I am about deforestation, and I grimace. “But I love the feel of the actual paper in my hands,” he says as he stands to forage in the fridge.Hungry much?“It’s a necessary evil.” He grabs a cutting board and a knife and slices his selections while carrying on, his back to me. “Do you realize that without paper, there would be no calligraphy, an art that’s existed for centuries? I’m sure the two can coexist,” he continues matter-of-factly in his smooth voice. He deposits a board filled with local apples and Vermont cheddar on the table, then turns his attention back to me.
“I guess you’re right, they can coexist.” And with that, I munch on an apple slice, then stroll to the living room.
He follows suit and puts a playlist on shuffle. For a guy who only reads on paper, Nathan can make nice with technology. I like that and smile at the thought. My smile widens when another velvety voice takes over: Chet Baker.
Enthralled by the atmosphere, we fool around on the sofa until I kill the mood. Why, oh why did I mention that my New York assignment will end in a few weeks? Why, oh why did I share that a year ago, I applied to my dream destination and should hear back any day now? Why, oh why didn’t I disclose how torn I am because of what we started? He readjusts himself and leans his body to the side to face me, expectant. “So, where is it?”
“Australia.”
