“I’m on call one Saturday a month.” Cole takes a sip of his beer. “The night I met you at the diner, I had just gotten off a shift at the hospital. But, when I’m not working, I usually go for a run, maybe meet up with some buddies to play golf or tennis, or depending on the time of year catch a Buff’s game in Boulder. There’s a group of us that tries to go to every home game.”
Last night we discovered that we both went to the University of Colorado in Boulder. Cole was years ahead of me, graduated and on to medical school before I was even out of high school. I’m not really into football, and I haven’t been to a game since I was a student, but part of me wants to sign up for this weird Saturday tradition of tailgating and team spirit just to hang out with Cole. I don’t normally take interest in the extra-curricular activities of the guy I’m fooling around with, and I definitely don’t do any of them with them, so I’m not sure where this strange desire is coming from. I remind myself that I’ll be pregnant and he’ll likely have moved on to a former Miss Colorado contestant by the time football season comes around.
“So, you play golf?” I ask.
“Yeah, do you?”
“Not really, but I like the cute skirts. And I like balls.”
Cole’s lip does that smirk where one side lifts up. The one that makes my panties melt off.
“We could play some time. I could teach you.”
I’m envisioning Cole behind me, his muscular arms over mine as he shows me how to swing the club, me in one of those golf skirts that would provide easy access if he wanted to, and that’s all the visual I need to agree.
“Yeah, we should do that,” I tell him, but then realize my baby bump will likely object in a few months.
All these tentative plans Cole is suggesting are not pregnancy friendly. Hmm, I guess we’ll just have to stick with sex and eating pancakes.
27
Cole
While we finish our lunch, I tell Brooke about my sister and parents. She tells me a few stories about her and Ellie growing up. She doesn’t mention her parents much. I can tell after the way she reacted last night that it’s still hard for her to talk about. I don’t want to press her on it, knowing she’ll tell me about them when she’s ready.
After lunch, we pass by the farmer’s market at 15thand Boulder. I’ve never been before. Most of the vendors are packing up for the day, but we manage to snag two donuts from the Doughnut Club truck. Brooke is in awe when she discovers that they top the donut with the donut hole, like you would put a cherry on top of a sundae, and both are covered in frosting and sprinkles. I can’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but the little hum she makes when she takes the first bite lets me know she’s enjoying it.
On our way out Brooke buys the remaining flowers from a floral vendor. They’re an assortment of pinks, purples and oranges, with greenery added in for filler. They remind me of Brooke’s apartment. I attempt to pay, but the vendor is cash only so Brooke’s twenty-dollar bill wins. After her purchase she hands them to me.
“For you.”
“Aren’t I supposed to buy you flowers?”
She shrugs. “Your apartment needs more color.”
I pull her in for a kiss. “Thank you.” She tastes like chocolate, and I wonder if I can convince her to spend another night. Then, I look at the flowers, and know full well I don’t have anything but a drinking glass to put them in.
Later, we’re walking along Platte Street when Brooke pulls me into a small home furnishing store. It’s mostly kitchenware, vases, pillows and throws. I follow her around the store as she points out different pieces that she likes, mentioning a townhome she just staged and how perfect that pillow would have been. She stops in front of an assortment of ceramic vases, and I pause beside her, shifting the flowers into my other hand.
I glance around the store and catch the eye of another guy holding who I presume to be his girlfriend’s purse while she examines a set of dishes. He lifts his chin in acknowledgment.
“They’ve got us trained, huh?”
I nod and lift the flowers. “Yeah.”
Moments later his girlfriend mentions she’s ready to leave and takes her purse back as they exit the store.
Is it odd that something as mundane as following Brooke around a home goods store gives me the most satisfaction? Imagining this is our usual Saturday routine, the farmer’s market and picking out home décor. Is it crazy that I want it to be? After just one date? To hell with golf and beers with the guys, listening to them grumble about their wives and children. This is what I want.
“This one is perfect.” Brooke lifts a small white vase with gold edging up to me in victory. She has no idea I was thinking the exact same thing about her. I pay for the vase, and we leave.
We spend the rest of the afternoon walking around near downtown’s Union Station, then we cross back over the Millennium pedestrian bridge, a cable-stayed bridge that connects downtown to the Platte River North neighborhood where my condo building is located, and decide to grab a spot under a tree in Commons Park to people-watch. Commons Park is a large open-space area that draws in people playing kickball or soccer, catching frisbees or throwing balls for their dogs. I love the fact that Denver is an extremely active city. Couples walk by with strollers, dogs leap for frisbees and a rowdy group of guys in camp chairs drink their beers. Usually I’d post up with some friends to play catch and toss a few back. But, just sitting here with Brooke, I am completely content.
I’ve got my back against the tree, and Brooke is in between my legs, the back of her body pressed against my front. I smell her hair and can’t resist pressing kisses against the back of her neck. Fuck, I’ve never wanted to defile anyone in a public place as bad as I want to Brooke right now. Getting to know Brooke today has made me exponentially more attracted to her, if that was even possible considering before she just had to walk in the room and I got a hard-on. Our sexual chemistry is off the charts, but now I know there’s more to it. We can talk nonstop for hours, or sit in quiet contentment. She’s a breath of fresh air in what has been a stagnant personal life.
After last night and our entire day together, I’ve gotten a better understanding of who she is. She loves her job, shopping, reading mysteries and thrillers, and watching 80s movies. When she’s excited, she talks with her hands. Between the carefree moments of laughter and teasing, there’s the vulnerability that I didn’t understand before. She’s guarded with good reason. I can’t imagine how I would have coped if my parents were taken from me at such a pivotal time in my life. I have a strange desire to console her, to take care of her…be her protector.
I’ve always been protective of my sister, but this safeguarding is different, more primal. I’ve never had a connection like this with any of the other women I’ve been with. I cared about them, but those relationships were surface level. A quick ‘how was your day’ tossed out before we hopped in bed.
