Hechuckles. “Iappreciate you assuming the best.Butno.There’sa great little place near my apartment inCloakwoodthatIget takeout from frequently.Ijust took the basket into them, chose some thingsIlove thatIthought you might, too, and asked for their help packing it up.”
Withas smooth asJaceseems to always be, like everything he does is so well thought out and planned, it is only the way he rubs his hand on the back of his neck as he talks that tells me this particular date isn’t one he has done before.
Thelittle bit of vulnerability he’s showing is endearing.Itmakes me smile.Probablybecause this date feels like it was planned for me, specifically, and isn’t just a date he’s done plenty of times before and found universally appealing.
“Oh!”Isay, pulling out my phone. “Ihave to get a picture of everything while it’s still so pretty!”Isnap a picture of the containers of food, andI’malready thinking about a caption and hashtagsI’lluse. “Hepacked a picnic;Ipacked my appetite,” and “Ahh.Aman who knows the way to my heart is through my stomach,” come to mind.Sodo the hashtags #PicnicPerfection, #BasketfulOfBliss, #FoodieFirstDate, and #PrinceCharming.
ThenItouch the screen to turn the camera to selfie mode and lean in toJacea bit, but instead of leaning in, too, like a normal person, he leans away, holding a hand up. “I’mnot actually a big fan of being in pictures.”
Iknow that a lot of people don’t like the way they look in pictures.ButJaceis “let me hire you as a model for high fashion” good-looking, soIkind of don’t think that’s the reason.AndbecauseIdatedDanfor a year, my hackles are raised andIeyeJace, wondering if his reasons are the same asDan’s.
Hemust see something in my expression that tells him that pictures are important to me, because he says, “It’sactually not the pictureIhave an issue with— it’s being posted on social media.Withmy type of work, clients tend to search for each of us on social media first, andIdon’t want them to get a peek into my personal life.Ihad a bad experience once involving client crossover, a confidential meeting, and a pet llama namedLarry, and everything went downhill quickly.”
Ican’t help it—Ilaugh.
“Itkind of soured me toward any online presence of my personal life.”
Iget that.Morethan one of my patients has looked me up and mentioned things they saw on my social media.Inmy job, it can be embarrassing, but it ultimately doesn’t matter very much.Icould see how it might be withJace’s.Besides,Jaceis notDan,Iremind myself, and it’s not fair to judge him based onDan’sactions.
Weeat as we talk.Heasks me ifIfound whatIwas looking for at the outdoor mall the other day, andItell him about the incredible shoesIfound and howIhave nowhere to wear them.ButItell him thatLiviassures meIcan wear them to the post office or the grocery store or wherever my heart desires, and he agrees.
Andthen we talk about our favorite animal (fox for him, platypus for me), how long he’s lived inCloakwood(a couple of years, in an apartment by himself), and how longI’velived inCipherSprings(nine months, in an apartment at my older sisterMaggie’shouse).Allin between me moaning in blissful delight with every food item he brought and trying to get out the words “Thisis so good” with every single bite.
Ieven ask my phone how to get from my work to the restaurant where he got this delicious food so she can tell me how long the drive is.Ido the math out loud of how long it would take to drive over there on my lunch break, grab food, and drive back.UnlessIspontaneously grow wings or gain super speed, it’s not going to happen.
“Anyother siblings?”Jaceasks. “OrisMaggieyour only one?”
“Ihave two more sisters.Hangon—I’llshow you a picture.”Iget my phone back out and scroll through my photos untilIcome to the most recent pictureIhave of the four of us back inLeesburg,Virginiafor my mom’s birthday last month. “Thisis my oldest sister,Mari, thenMaggie, then me, and that’s my youngest sister,May.”
Thesun is getting lower in the sky, shining in our eyes and making it more difficult to see my phone screen, soJaceleans in very close.Hehas a musky but somehow clean scent, like he’s fresh from a shower.It’sas if the scent is connected directly to my nerve endings, because it sets off a cascade of nerves firing, making me lightheaded.AlmostlikeIforgot how to breathe.Whichis followed closely by a very happy fluttering in my stomach and a tingling up my spine.
Ormaybe it is just because of his nearness.Maybehe just has an alluring aura that has nothing to do with his scent.Ifit wouldn’t be awkward to grab a paper plate to fan myself,Itotally would.
Woo!
Ithits me hard.
AndJace’sbreathing is not entirely smooth, either.Maybehe can feel it, too.Bothour eyes are still on my phone, andI’mwondering if either of us is actually seeing the picture whenIspot a flash of something from the corner of my eye.Jacereaches an arm out as he turns his body, completely blocking me with his torso just as a football hits him square in the chest and he wraps an arm around it.
Thatfootball had been coming right for me.Ihadn’t even noticed, but my body seems to know how dangerously close it came to barreling into me at a high speed because my breaths are coming in fast, shocked gasps.
Ascrawny kid, who looks to be about fifteen years old, shouts from the middle of the field as he’s running in our direction, “Sorry!Sorry!I’mso sorry!”
Jacetwists and tosses the football back to the kid in a tight spiral, and the kid leaps up and catches it.Helands a little unbalanced, like the speed of the football knocked him back a bit.
I’mstill trying to catch my breath and recover from shock, butImanage to spurt, “Howdid you move quickly enough to block it from hitting me?Ididn’t even see it coming until it was almost here!”
Jaceis glancing around the field, like another football might be lurking somewhere, about to be sent sailing in our direction.Heshakes his head in disbelief. “Ishould’ve been paying more attention.”
“Clearly, you were paying enough attention or you never would’ve been able to pull that off.Thatwas seriously impressive,Jace.”
“No.Ilet my guard down.”I’mlooking at him like he’s maybe a little insane when he turns his attention back to me and clears his throat. “So, all the kids in your family haveM-Anames, huh?”
Itry to pull myself out of the “you almost got hit by an object speeding through the air right toward you” zone.Ittakes a moment beforeIcan even comprehend his change back to the pre-football attack conversation. “Oh, yeah.M-Anames.”
Ishake my head to get back in the moment, then pick up my fork and take a bite of the strawberry lemonade pie.Itake time to fully chew and swallow, grounding me back in the present. “Andthat’s not even the worst of it.Asif my parents weren’t going to have a hard enough time mixing up our names every time they called for one of us, they decided to further limit their choices in names by also giving usM-a names that are also a flower.Somy sisterMari’sfull name isMarigold.MysisterMaggieisMagnolia, and my sisterMayisMaple.”
“IthoughtMaplewas a tree.”
