"What, what? Do you not want to go?" he asked.
I was still confused. "Did you say you wanted to take me out to dinner?" Because that didn't make any sense. My mind was all kinds of confuzzled.
Tristan turned onto Route 140 and answered, "Yes. I hardly call one drink and a calamari appetizer a date, so yeah, I want to take you out to dinner."
I dropped my eyes to my clasped hands in my lap and mulled over what was happening. Tristan had asked me out. On a date. Another thought occurred to me, so I turned my attention back to him. "Was this a date?"
He gave me a weird look, then slowly pulled his truck to the side of the road and came to a stop. It wasn't abrupt, but it did make me a little worried. I leaned closer to the door. When the truck was in park, he turned on the seat. "What did you think this was, Grant?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Two buddies having a beer." My heart was racing. I squeezed my hands together as my only form of security. I didn't understand what was going on. It was dark, and sitting on the side of the road made me a little scared. I estimated we were over eight miles from my house, so if he made me get out and walk, I'd have a long trek back.
His shoulders sagged, and he leaned against the door, resting one arm over the steering wheel. "Grant, I've been flirting with you for two weeks."
"You have? When?" Rewinding our interactions, doing a mental assessment of everything we'd said to one another, I couldn't remember where I'd gone off track.
Tristan said, "Well, for one, I've turned the pens upside down every time you weren't looking."
My mouth dropped open. "That was you?"
He chuckled. "Yes." He seemed so pleased with himself.
His posture didn't suggest anger, so I eased away from the door and relaxed my hands. I still fussed at him. "I couldn't for the life of me figure out how they ended up like that. It drove me nuts."
He grinned. "I know. I thought it was adorable."
"My pain was adorable?" I bristled. I had to admit, now that I knew it was Tristan who'd flipped the pens, it made more sense. "Did you shuffle the bills in your deposits on purpose too? Because that was ridiculous."
Tristan nodded.
"Oh my gosh! I didn't say anything because I didn't want to be rude, but you were the only customer who didn't arrange his deposits and stack the bills all facing in the same direction, lumped by denomination."
"It was the only thing I could think of to extend my visits. I knew it would take you longer to count it," he explained. "I've never been in the bank so many times, Grant. I used to send one of the guys in on Fridays. I only went to the bank that first Friday, the day I met you, because Will was in the middle of a job and I'd finished rotating a set of tires on a Pilot sooner than expected. But I have to say, I've never been happier rearranging my schedule. As soon as I saw you, I knew I had to find reasons to go to the bank. I even took money out of the ATM over the weekend so I could go on Monday and redeposit it on the off chance you'd be there."
How did I miss all this? Sure, I knew he came in at least twice a week, and some of his transactions had seemed redundant, but I wasn't a business owner. I wasn't going to tell him how to run things. Every time he came in had given me another chance to look into his blue eyes and enjoy his smile, even if I knew there wasn't a chance to go beyond friendship. No, wait … .
"I thought you were straight," I said. How could I have been so wrong?
"I don't see how, unless I wasn't as obvious as I thought. I even winked at you. How many straight guys wink that often?"
He had me there. "I was confused about that, but then you showed me a picture of your daughter. I thought, ‘Damn! He's straight.' How was I supposed to know you're gay and you have a daughter?"
He sighed, and his shoulders sagged as if I'd deflated him completely. "I am so sorry, Grant. Had I known you'd misunderstand my intentions, I'd have spelled them out. I swear, I thought you knew I liked you."
However we'd gotten to this point, it didn't really matter after he said he liked me. They were words I rarely heard but longed for. Someone liked me and wanted to date me, and that someone was gorgeous and nice. There had to be a catch. Guys this awesome didn't happen my way or simply show up at my teller window. There were always horrific complications that destroyed the relationship before it even progressed to kissing. Just once, I hoped I'd met a guy who would actually take a chance and kiss me.
I apologized this time, quiet and sincere. "I'm sorry too, Tristan. I guess I couldn't see your gestures because guys like you have never been interested in me before."
"I can't imagine why. You're so … pretty, but in a manly sort of way." He grinned, but I felt emasculated.
"Thanks, I think I'll be putting my tutu on for the next date. And maybe some eyeliner and lipstick." Perhaps my sarcasm wasn't necessary, but it was a knee-jerk reaction. One other guy I'd gone out with had made a similar comment about me being "too pretty." I wasn't fucking pretty. Nice looking? Sure. Cute? Maybe. But I was damned if I was going to be called pretty. I'd seen pretty guys, the ones who could be models or actors. I'd met a "pretty" guy once in Columbia near the bank where I used to work. He was absolutely beautiful … and straight. I knew I was not one of those guys. Backhanded compliments made me angry. Don't pay me lip service; just tell me the truth.
Tristan was quiet for a long time. He was studying me, or trying to figure out what to say. Maybe his tactics worked on other guys, but I wasn't going to be so duped. He'd tricked me, and I wasn't going to fall into his trap. Dinner? Why would he want to take me to dinner? Nothing good could come of it.
He finally turned back to the steering wheel and put it in drive, pulling out onto the road in silence. We turned down a few more streets and before long ended up in front of my house. He parked. "Good night, Grant," he said, not even bothering to look at me.
I hesitated to open the door. What was happening? We had argued over this being a date or not, him calling me pretty, and now … what? It was over? I was to get out and go into my house without another word? I glanced at him and then at the door. "Um, bye," I said feebly. I shut the door and walked to my front landing in a daze. This was not how I pictured a date would end, even if I hadn't realized we were on one. Ten minutes ago I'd said I hadn't wanted it to end, and now I was going inside with this creeping notion I'd killed my best chance for an actual date. A torrent of emotion swelled. I'd been so stupid.
I fumbled for my keys and dropped them. "Damn it." I bent to pick them up.
"Grant."
Tristan's voice behind me caused me to bobble my keys and drop them again. I turned around. "What are you doing?"
"Grant, I … shit, are you crying?"
I stiffened and shrunk back. "No, that's absurd."
"Look, this isn't how I planned it. I wanted to-"
"Humiliate me?" I countered. I was up against my front door, so I didn't have anywhere to hide.
His eyes twitched again. I was coming to recognize that those ticks were signs of irritation or confusion. He didn't understand me. Tristan shook his head and squinted. "No, Grant. I wanted to-"
He kissed me. He just dove in and kissed me soundly on the lips. I'd never felt another person's mouth on mine, and it took a second to react. Even though I'd seen chick flicks galore, I was still surprised when Tristan moved his mouth on mine. I'd thought once two lips were pressed together they remained that way, but I was wrong. He kissed with a grabbing motion, his lips grasping mine before releasing them for another position. His lips nibbled at my mouth as our noses rubbed and our breath mingled.
I felt his hands holding my face on either side, capturing me. I reached up and held his ribs, but as the kissing continued, I encircled his waist in order to hold myself up. I was suddenly lightheaded and woozier than from the beer. I couldn't breathe. His mouth kept suckling at my lips as if determined to torture me with the new sensations that traveled down my body and filled me with tingling flushes of heat.
I groaned, pulling his body tightly against mine. Something hard pressed against my crotch, and I felt a primal need to thrust. I fisted the back of his shirt and tilted my hips, but he drew back, releasing my mouth.