Page 85 of Who's Playing You
I know we’re still young in our relationship and there are many things that we don’t know about one another, but I’ve never felt like this.
I’ve never felt this incredibly deep connection with anyone in my life. It feels like it’s at a molecular level, that’s how deep it feels.
I may just be swept up in a post-orgasmic state, I’m fully aware that that’s a real possibility, but still! I can’t deny that despite my initial hesitation, Nicholas is an incredible person. One whom I’m falling deeper and harder for every day.
As for me living with him, well that’s obviously way too fast. But after this weekend, truthfully speaking, I’m not in a rush to track Praveen down to see if I can crash with her. Nicholas assured me he’d call the insurance for me today, as well as figure things out with Bessie, and I decided that I’d let him do that.
He adamantlyinsistedon doing it. Why not let him then? I was so utterly exhausted from all of the drama and trauma of last week, so when he quite literally insisted and begged me to let him, it felt like a relief.
So between that and this weekend’s events, I felt light. I felt truly happy for once.
With those new feelings lighting up all of my nervous system, I’d decided to live in the moment and bask in the glow of it all. I’d see what Nicholas found out with the insurance once we got home tonight, and from there I’d figure out my next steps.
He didn’t seem to mind me in his space, which is something I always worry about. After my upbringing, I’m hyper aware ofmyself if I’m ever sharing space with people, let alone occupying someone else’s space. But Nicholas took it upon himself to litter my things all throughout his house. I just watched as he brought all my clothes up to his bedroom and hung some of them in his closet, while he stuffed my oversized art books into the bookshelves in the once-empty office.
I also watched as he stuffed my baking tins, measuring cups and other kitchen crap into just about every shelf, drawer and cabinet in his kitchen. He threw my throw blanket over his couch. He dumped my sneakers on the floor in his mudroom before lining them up underneath the bench. He even hung my half-finished paintings that I’d been keeping at my apartment instead of in my studio up on his walls.
Every time I tried to tell him this wasn’t necessary, it was as if I was kicking his puppy. He’d then reply that this was most certainly necessary and that he wanted me to feel at home.
On that note, he’d texted me about half a dozen times today pictures of furniture. The first had been a link to a couch, asking what I thought.
The second had been three different dining room sets that had tables and chairs along with a sideboard.
The third picture was of a headboard with dressers and nightstands, and let’s not forget the lamps. It felt like he was very passionate about the lamps.
Meanwhile, I was confused. Why the hell was he asking me? I’d told him I wasn’t an interior designer, and even though he’d called me his girlfriend - this felt next level. Like if he was truly serious about asking my opinion on this furniture, it felt like a huge deal.
Surprisingly though, with my new demeanor and outlook on life, I wasn’t having a full-blown panic attack over this. Instead, after he went on about the lamps, I did chime in and we’d goneback and forth about color schemes and comfortable furniture as opposed to furniture that was just all for looks and not comfort.
It seemed that we actually had the same style: minimal-ish, we both liked clean lines with neutral colors - no frills or fluff. We both gravitated towards the Scandinavian style of design, which was simple yet chic, utilitarian and comfortable. And all of a sudden I was having fun picking outstuffthat felt meaningful.
When I came home from school on Wednesday afternoon, I pulled into the barnyard where Nicholas and I parked the cars, only to find two moving trucks with about ten guys walking up the gang plank to the trucks, bringing furniture into the house like some sort of assembly line.
“Umm, hello?” I called out when I walked into the house.
The guys who were placing furniture inside the house on the first floor kind of just grunted and motioned towards the stairs while they continued on with their jobs. When I looked to the stairs, an older gentleman who was short and stocky with a handlebar mustache grinned when he saw me. “Oh hello!” he greeted me with such a joyous expression that I envied his wife.
“Mrs. Soba, I hope all the furniture is placed where your husband wanted it to go. He wasveryparticular and detail-oriented when he placed the order and delivery. I can’t but admire a man who knows exactly what he wants and tells it how it is, am I right or am I right?” he said and winked at me.
But I was dumbfounded. Had he just saidMrs. Soba?!
I managed to stumble, “Oh-ah, I’m sure it’s perfect. Thank you so much.”
“You got it, ma’am. We’ll be out of your hair in about five minutes. The boys are bringing in the couch now and that’s thelast of it. We already removed the old couch. If you could just initial here, we’ll be all set.”
I did so, feeling so many emotions and questions flood my brain that all I could manage was to sink into one of the barstools by the kitchen island.
The same kitchen island that Nicholas hand-fed me just about every night.
Oh my God! Nicholas-Nick! SOBA!
Nat’s little brother… Mr. and Mrs. Soba’s son… whose house I was living in. Who I’d hadsexwith. Albeit the best sex I’d ever had in my entire life. And oh-my-God, I was robbing the cradle!
I was in full-blown meltdown mode.
He must know. He must know who I am… and is that why he was so damn evasive with his last name? But… I fast-tracked through the last few weeks with Nicholas, examining every moment, every conversation, every touch… He’s never lied to me - not directly - not to my knowledge at least. Is omission the same as lying though?
He told me he had always played sports. He went to Zeiders on a sports scholarship, and I know that he double majored. He told me he worked for The New York Rage football team, although he never told me precisely what he did there. Then again, I never asked either.
