Page 7 of Touched Down
She glanced at me like I had just gotten on her last nerve. "Weren't you with that group of money-flaunting jerks last week? Shouldn’t you be at, I don’t know, a strip club tossing money around?”
I gave her an incredulous glare. “Who me?”
She looked around at the empty store. “Yeah, you. I don’t see anyone else in here.”
“I didn’t act like a jerk. I didn’t mention my money once,” I said defensively.
A frustrated exhale passed through her lips. “Look, I don't date people who treat others like gum on the bottom of their shoes. And I don’t date people who hang with people who treat others like gum on the bottom of their shoes. You think you’re better than a shoe store worker. Why would I date you?" she expelled seemingly in one breath.
To the naked eye, one would have seen a rejection in motion. But I saw something flash in her eyes before she tore them away from me. I gripped that thread of hope and held onto it like my life depended on it. She was interested, but Rich and the guy's big mouths had left a bad impression.Now, it was time for me to make my own impression.
I pled my case. "I’m not like them. I don’t agree with how they treated you, and I told them so on the way home.” I glanced at her nametag. “So, Leslie, I would appreciate it if you would give me a chance to show you that I don’t think I’m better than others, and I actually think you would make me better if you were mine.”
Was I forward in the way I approached her? Hell yeah. I didn’t feel like I had much time before someone walked into that sneaker store and realized the beautiful gem working in the Nike section. The guys had even started talking smack about who could get her first after they acted like assholes last week.
It took some convincing, but I talked Leslie into meeting me at an ice cream shop later that day. Meeting me for ice cream was her way of giving me a chance to prove I wasn’t like my friends. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of each scoop of ice cream that entered her beautiful mouth. Ever now and then, I’d catch her staring at me, trying to figure me out.
On the outside, she appeared quiet and sweet, but she had fire in her. A fire that could light me ablaze. And I wanted more of her sweetness and even more of her fire.
Thank God, the feeling was mutual. We clicked immediately and soon became inseparable. We dated for a few months before I asked her to move in with me. She was still staying with her parents and welcomed her newfound freedom.
I told Leslie it was a low-pressure commitment. If any time she felt like she wanted to back away, she could do so, and I wouldn’t hold it against her. I had a low profile then, but I still wanted to get to know her without the constraints of people eager to get into my business.
Our low-profile, low-pressure commitment resulted in us falling fast and hard in love. Two years later, my contract was extended. I was confident I could give her everything she ever wanted or needed, so I proposed over a romantic dinner athome. It was the full works with candlelight, exquisite dinner, and a musician lulling sweet melodies.
She said yes and changed my life. She became mine and I could never let her go.
I love Leslie Jones. I live to become the best husband I can be for Leslie Jones. Everything I do is for Leslie Jones.
Though our love is strong, no one knows about our engagement except her sister and my brother. Right now, that’s how I want it to stay.
After my brother’s wife got into an accident following hearing cheating rumors about Eddie in the media, I told myself that it would never be Leslie and me. We will keep our relationship between us because we are the only two people who cherish it. And I do cherish her.
I cherish her so much that I will do anything to keep her shielded from nasty bloggers and media outlets. They’re starting to say my name more on sports news, calling me Washington Saint’s rising star. On any given day, I can turn on the TV and see my name plastered on the screen with a replay of one of my plays.
Sportscasters constantly pit me against Dariel Grant in their commentary, wondering if he’ll make it back onto the field. And if and when he is ready, would there be a place for him since my profile is growing rapidly? The rise of my football profile is everything I want and fear at once. My privacy is slipping.I don’t want anyone to hurt the woman I love with lies on social media or television.
Though she seems happy with this arrangement, I know I fail at giving her the one thing she wants the most. I can’t share her with the world. I can’t risk letting the outside world ruin what we have.
With those thoughts in mind, I drop my bag at the bottom of the stairs and climb the stairs to face the beat of my heart.Reaching the top, I stand at the room door and listen. I don’t hear a sound, which tells me Leslie’s reading or asleep.
As much as I want to spend the rest of the night making love to her, I wish for the latter. If she’s up waiting for me tonight, I’ll have to see the disappointment in her eyes. I hate disappointing her.
I slowly turn the handle to our bedroom door and peek inside. All the lights are out. I ease inside and notice that Marjorie has set up the room just as I asked her to. However, the most important thing is missing. The bed is empty. There is no Leslie.
I intake a deep breath and call out to her. “Leslie, baby, where are you?”
“I’m in here,” she responds with the sound of water moving around in the tub.
I walk into the bathroom and find her soaking in a bubble-filled tub. “I thought you’d be asleep.”
“I was.” She chuckles, but the smile on her face is forced. “Congratulations on tonight’s game.” Her hair’s messy bun shows off her long neck. She still has makeup, and the red lipstick on her lips makes me eager to kiss her.
I smile, glancing around at the candles. The scene before me is much better than the one I just left at the bar. I should have come home instead of going there. “Thanks, baby. I couldn’t have done it without your support and encouragement.”
She nods, removes her eyes from mine, and stares at the bathroom tiles.
“Les, look at me.”
