Page 13 of The Keeper
My relationship with Mack so far is different. Yes, he has seemed nothing but genuine and thoughtful during our interactions, but I know almost nothing about him. We’ve laughed a lot today and talked non-stop, but our topics have remained fairly surface level, which I know is typical for a first date.
But I’ve never before felt a pull to someone, let alone to someone I met less than 24 hours ago. And then there’s the way he looks at me. I feel like I’m in a low-budget chick flick the way he makes me weak in the knees. And I’m a soccer girl - I have kick ass knees. It makes me feel idiotic, because my logical brain is telling me I’m too overwhelmed by the physical rush he gives me when he touches me lightly or looks at me like he can’t get enough of me - the physical and hormonal parts of a new relationship.
I shake off that thought, though. I may not be able to put it into words just yet, but this thing with Mack feels special. Unique. My interest isn’t being guided by my logical brain, and maybe that’s the issue.
Once we finally get to the front of the line and place our orders, we nab an open table outside and wait for our number to be called.
“So, we’ve spent the whole day talking without really talking,” he says, taking a sip of his chocolate shake. “What’s your story, RJ?”
I fold my hands under my chin and prop myself on the table with my elbows. Time for the get-to-know-you part.
“Not much to tell, really. I’m 21, and I’m in college studying to be a high school English teacher. I’ve lived in SoCal my entire life. That’s about it, really.”
“Why English?”
“I had a really amazing English teacher when I was in high school. I really enjoyed his class, but he also helped me deal with some personal issues and he really cared about me as a person.”
“Very cool,” he responds.
“Yeah. I spent my lunches in his classroom, usually reading. We had some amazing conversations and he showed me you can use your position as a teacher to invest in people.” I take a sip of my soda. “Plus he was my coach. So I’m hoping to do that as well.”
“Oh really? What did he coach you in?”
“Football,” I reply.
His eyebrows fly up.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I was the kicker on my high school team.”
“Wow, that’s really cool,” he says, just as our number is called. “Be right back.” Once he’s back with our food, we pause so he can take in the gloriousness of the In-N-Out Double-Double. I just stare at him while he takes his first bite and then groans at the taste.
“Live up to the hype?” I ask.
He nods, then moves back to our earlier conversation. “So, you’re a football fanatic?”
“Well, I’m not a fanatic. I really do enjoy football - playing and watching. One of the reasons I joined the team was to piss off my dad, though. He took huge issue with the fact his little girl was covered in sweat and dirt and getting slapped on the ass by fifty guys every day.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“There is. But we can save that for next time.”
“Next time?” He asks, with a quirked eyebrow.
I just smile.
“Anyway, the real reason I played was to keep my legs in shape for soccer during the off season,” I say as I squeeze out some spread onto my fries and throw a few in my mouth.
He coughs, then takes a sip of his soda.
“Really?”
“Yeah, my soccer coach was a real bitch. And not that ‘endearing bitch’ you see coaching championship teams. She was just awful. I can only imagine how much better my team would have done during playoffs during my senior year if we’d had a better coach.” I pause, taking a bite from my own burger. “Anyway, I’m hoping to teach English and coach soccer. But who knows if that will all work out.”
Just as Mack is beginning to reply, I hear a squeal and a tiny voice shout “Uncle Mack!” before a little blur runs past me and plows into my date’s legs.
“Hey, baby girl!” he says, wiping his hands and lifting the toddler up into his arms for a tight squeeze. “What are you doing here?”
