Back in the Saddle

After I had gotten home Thursday night I half expected a text or call from Nick, but no dice. I wasn't sure if this made me upset or relieved. He made it clear that he wanted me back in his life, but he sure as hell wasn't acting like it. Friday was payday, aka I spent a large chunk of the weekend shopping (I have the worst budgeting skills north of the Mason-Dixon line) and trying out a new Mexican restaurant with Ashley.

“Absolutely not,” Ashley replied to me, dunking a chip into the fresh salsa bowl in front of us. I had asked her whether or not I should text Nick. It was Saturday night, and I still hadn't heard from him. “You had the last word when you saw him Thursday, so ball is in his court.”

I reached for my margarita on the rocks, taking a long sip. “You’re right, I know you’re right. Anyway how’s Steve?” I asked.

Ashley and her boyfriend Steve had been together for a little more than two years now. They met in college, but didn't get serious until they were both in the city. They now shared a small apartment in the West Village together along with their dog, Murphy. Steve had pressed Ashley to move in with him when her lease ended in September, which made financial sense for the both of them since she slept there almost every night anyway. I was convinced that they would have broken up by now though if they hadn't lived together. Ashley was constantly being mistaken for Blake Lively (i’m not kidding - at Starbucks they have even written it on her cup before. I personally didn't really see the resemblance, but we had been friends since we were 10 so maybe I’m just used to her obnoxiously good looks) which meant men were always paying attention to her. It’d be annoying if she wasn't so humble and kind. Unfortunately, all this attention meant Ashley was constantly tempted and on one or two occasions she had cheated. She always said she wanted to marry Steve but she wanted to be single to get it out of her system first. Unfortunately, I'm not sure Steve is too keen on the idea of her romping around the city boning every man in sight.

“He’s fine, but he never wants to go out anymore which is so frustrating. I know he’s a little older but still,” she sighed. This complaint of hers was not a new one.

I laughed, “He’s only 25! Why is he such an old man all of a sudden.”

“Who knows, but I refuse to stay in with him. Thank god you’re here to take me out when I need it!” she smiled. “Are you excited for your date tomorrow?” she asked, referencing brunch with Bray tomorrow. (Brunch with Bray! Sounds like the sequel to Breakfast at Tiffanys).

“I am, I hope it’s not awkward. I literally know nothing about him. I even did a thorough Facebook stalk and couldn't find him.” Fact: a millennial with wifi is more effective than a PI.

“It’s probably better you didn't thoroughly creep on him beforehand,” Ashley replied, leaning back. Our food had arrived and the waiter was setting down the hot plates in front of us. My mouth watered a little as I dug into my Trios de Flautas, aka three deliciously crispy tortillas stuffed with chicken, peppers and some sort of magical cheese sauce. I could eat Mexican for every meal and be totally fine with it.

“Maybe,” I replied taking a sip of my water. These flautas had a kick. “I guess I will have a more genuine reaction when he tells me about his prison stint,” I joked.

“Yeah and it won’t give you time to think of an excuse to bolt when you find about his ex-boyfriend,” Ashley quipped. I laughed appreciatively at her joke, but seriously it could be true. Dating strangers is scary business.

“I’m half worried I’ll walk in and not remember what he looks like. I mean, I was pretty drunk the night we met. All I picture in my mind now is long brown hair and then a big ol’ blur in the middle where his face is,” I said.

“Haha I’m sure you’ll spot him,” she reassured. “Just don’t order eggs benedict, we all know you’re not a graceful eater.” I shot a tight smile back at her. Rude.

I was in bed with a nice buzz from the margaritas by 12:30, and debated setting my alarm. I wasn't meeting Bray until noon, but better safe than sorry. I set the alarm for 10 and pulled the comforter up to my chin, sinking into my pillow-top mattress.

When I woke up to the sound of my alarm, the sunlight was streaming in the windows. Another gorgeous day, I could get used to these. I dragged my sleepy butt into the shower and even managed to shave my legs. Good date karma, coming up!

I began the long process of blow drying my hair, and settled on jeans, nude flats and a lace shirt for our date. I grabbed my light blue J Crew trench and skipped out the door. Yes, skipped. This was a new era for me. A new man, a new season, I had a feeling this spring was going to be good to me.

Luckily, I didn't have to go around poking random strangers in the side asking “Bray?” hopefully, because when I walked in I spotted him immediately. He was (thankfully) even better looking than I had remembered. His hair was long, but not long enough to touch his shoulders. He seemed to be just under six feet and had gorgeous blue eyes that I imagined staring into while doing some R-rated things.

“Hey,” he smiled warmly. Glancing me quickly up and down. He stood as I approached the table. How gentlemanly. There was an awkward moment where I wasn't sure if we were going to hug or shake hands or awkwardly pat each other on the back, which turned into weird a half-hug which I then spent the next three full minutes blushing about. Awkward.

“Are you feeling better?” I asked, reaching for the menu. I had never been to this place, and taking Ashley’s advice I had to order something that wouldn't end up all over my face.

“I am,” he said swallowing a sip of water. “Sorry about having to cancel before, but I swear I’m no longer contagious,” he gave a little smirk. Well aren't we Mr. Forward?

“Good to hear,” I sarcastically said in return. “So what’s good here?”

“I pretty much always get their breakfast burger, which sounds a little weird but I promise you, it’s worth it,” he replied. I skimmed my menu to check out the item in question. That would definitely end up all over my face, but I was salivating just reading the description. Sign me up for anything involving bacon.

“Sold,” I said placing my menu on the table and smiling up at him. God, I hadn’t been on a real first date in forever and I already felt awkward. The waitress came over then and we ordered two breakfast burgers and two bloody marys, “the best in the city,” he had said.

The rest of the date passed in easy conversation. Since we knew nothing about each other, there was plenty to discuss. I learned that Bray was from the DC area, went to UVA and then moved up here for work as a graphic designer for a marketing firm. He was the baby of three boys, his parents were divorced and both still lived down in DC. The conversation was playful and he easily countered any of my sarcastic remarks. I could feel my palms getting sweaty and I became shyer as the date when on, realizing I might actually maybe kind of like this guy.

When the check came, I pulled the instinctive 'reach for it but slowly so that he gets there first' move, to show I was totally cool with paying except secretly hoping he would, since I firmly believe all boys should pay for the first date.

“Let me,” he said grabbing the check and reaching for his wallet.

“Thanks,” I said placing my hands back into my lap. We paid up and started to walk out of the restaurant. I knew from previous conversations that he only lived about 10 blocks away from me, so we started uptown together. I was feeling a little bold from drinking two bloody marys and stepped a little closer to him as we walked.

“What are you doing the rest of the day?” he asked. I craned my neck up to see him, relishing in standing this close. He had a good seven inches on me.

“I actually have to meet a friend at three,” I lied. I didn't wanna go looking all super-available and ready for anything. Even though the fire in my stomach and the fact that I hadn't had sex in more than three months (Can cobwebs grow down there? I actually googled it the other day…) made me want to invite him upstairs very, very badly.

“Okay,” he said pulling me in for a hug. His coat had the faint smell of cigarettes, and I hoped it was from a club and not his own habit. “I had a really good time,” he said stepping back, keeping his hands on my waist. I leaned into him slightly and tilted my head up.

“Me too, we should do it again sometime,” I replied. His hair had slid down and was grazing his eyes as he looked down at me. He leaned in and kissed me lightly on the lips. Everywhere tingled. It was a slow, sweet kiss but just enough to let me know he was definitely a good kisser.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said. He gave me one last kiss on my forehead - seriously, swoon - and continued uptown. I watched him for approximately five seconds, just enough to not be a total creep, and unlocked the door to my building.

As I rounded the last flight of stairs, I stopped in my tracks. Nick was sitting against the door to my apartment, his head fallen back on the door frame, fast asleep. I kicked his shoe. Startled, his eyes shot open and he leaned forward.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.