Page 16 of Perfect
When I met Ashley, I felt like something between us harmonized, like we complemented each other, but it was softer, subtler, less consuming. I made some impulsive, shitty choices with her, but I was able to control most of the impulses I had until she broke up with me.
I’m having a much harder time doing that with Alex.
I need to be careful and do things differently this time. With Ashley, I jumped in and started pursuing her immediately, andI overlooked all the warning signs I should have noticed. I was wrong about her.
I don’t want to be wrong about Alex.
I need to take my time and get to know her first. I need to make sure the feelings I have about her are right before I invest in starting a relationship with her. I’m not going to be impulsive about this.
The question is how to get to know her.
I know the way Ishoulddo it.
I know the way Iwantto do it.
In the back of my mind, I know the way Ihaveto do it.
I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do or when I’ll do it, but it’ll probably be soon.
7
ALEX
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 9
I come home to my wi-fi being out. I text Roger, but get no reply.
Shit, I wanted to watch the Red Sox game.
I don’t care for sports in general, but my parents and I never missed a game, and it was one of the few things I got to keep when Danny came into my life. I know there’s a divey sports bar a few minutes away, so I walk there and feel relieved that they have the game on.
It’s dingy but warm inside, and I sit at the bar and order the first beer I recognize, grateful that the bartender doesn’t even ask for my ID. I sip my beer slowly, looking over the scores at the bottom of the fourth. I relax into watching the game andenjoying the hum of conversation and the tinny sound of the electronic slot machines in the corner.
I’ve never been to a sports bar alone before, and even after months of being on my own, I still get a rush whenever I do something new.
About ten minutes into the fifth inning, a tall man in a red flannel shirt slips into the seat next to me. I stiffen slightly, shooting a quick glance his way.
“Is this seat taken?” His voice is low and friendly, and my cheeks heat the longer I look at him. There are plenty of other seats open along the bar, but he’s cute, so I shake my head. I turn away, taking a quick sip of my beer and trying hard to focus back on the game.
Interacting with men I find attractive hasn’t gotten easier yet. I’m still expecting to get yelled at if I look at them for too long or seem too interested in what they’re talking about, so I usually avoid them.
The guy orders a shot and a beer, and we sit silently, watching the game. I watch his long fingers curl loosely around the half-empty shot glass, spinning it absently, and I can’t help but sneak a few glances up at him. He’s got a sharp jaw and dark, wavy hair that falls over his forehead and curls around his ears, and his eyes crinkle at the corners a little as he flashes me a quick smile when he catches me looking at him.
Fuck, he’sreallycute.
I look back at the TV, and he turns his head towards me just a bit, his eyes still glued to the game.
“You an Orioles fan?”
I snort. “No, I actuallylikebaseball.”
He laughs. “Wow, harsh. You from Boston?”
I sip my beer, trying to keep calm. I don’t think my accent is strong enough to peg me, but it’s undeniably present. Hopefully, he’s from here and won’t know better.
“Maine, actually, but I like to think I have good taste,” I say, smiling, glancing at him but trying not to make eye contact. He smiles back at me and taps his beer can against my bottle of Coors Lite.
“Not if you’re drinking that, you don’t,” he says, his tone warm and amused. Are we flirting? There’s no reason we couldn’t be. I blush and look at the tall can in his hand with a large red R on it.
