Page 38 of Since We're Here
My Age: 22
Vinny was the kind of Jersey guy who said he was Italian, but wasJerseyItalian, notItalianItalian. He spent months dedicatedly making me laugh while he danced, twirled pizza dough in the air, and tossed individual pieces of shredded cheese into my mouth from across the kitchen. He talked about his mom all the time. He used too much gel in his dark hair.
But he was a truly nice guy, and eventually I said yes to his repeated attempts to get me to go out with him.
Vinny kissed me at the end of the first date and I knew immediately he and I were not a fit. There was nothing there. No zing, no passion, not even the smallest spark. I tried to tell him calmly, but he begged, cried, and then called his mom while I was still in his car.
Ending things with Vinny was extra painful because he really liked me, but I wasn’t into it. It was all about me that time.
I couldn’t face him. RIP job number three.
Breakup Reason: no spark
My Distress Level: 3, not because I was so into him, but because I wished I was
Lesson Learned: Don’t agree to go out with someone just because they’re nice.
Iwake up in the flat absolutely boiling. This place is about a million degrees, and nothing I do to the thermostat changes how hot it gets. Last night I slept in my underwear and a tank, like the previous nights.
But as I lie on top of the soft duvet, staring at the ceiling, I think about who I could complain to.
Patrick.
It’d been one breathtaking view after another on the bike ride the other day, but my favorite part was when he let me snuggle into him. He wrapped his arms around me, protecting me from the wind. And the world.
He even made me laugh about Blue (Brian from Ohio). I hadn’t found any part of that relationship amusing until yesterday.
And that feeling when he rubbed my back? My cheek against his hard chest? I need to be careful.
My phone buzzes.
Patrick
I left something for you at the bottom of the stairs. I used my key to get in to the first door—I hope you don’t mind
My eyes widen. Sure, there was a second door between us, but my heart speeds up a bit to think Patrick had been only twenty feet away while I was sleeping in my underwear.
I jump up and walk to the entrance, cracking it open and sliding out to peer down the stairway, phone clutched in my hand. A dark shadow leans against the wall. I blink and let out a surprised huff when I realize what it is.
Me
A bike?
Patrick
Yes. For you to use while you’re here. And the helmet. Let me know if you can adjust it to fit better or we can grab you a new one
Me
Thank you
Patrick
No problem. I don’t want you hurting yourself on some shite rental bike before I can hire your replacement
I bite my bottom lip, then press my phone to my chest and grin.
No matter his protests, I think I’m growing on that man.
