A shared bottle of wine later, the restaurant was getting ready to close. We were the last people there on a Thursday night; it was nearly midnight and I could tell the wait staff was getting a little impatient with us. We had long since paid our bill, or rather, Ryan had paid our bill. He used the whole “I hit you with my car” defense on me, so I let him buy me dinner and all my drinks.
“Where did you park?” he asked casually.
“Just down the street in front of the bookstore.” I suddenly felt shy and awkward again.
“I’ll walk you there,” he said.
“You don’t have to.” Upper Queen Anne was a very safe and well-lit neighborhood; I wasn’t the least bit worried about walking to my car alone.
“I want to,” he insisted.
When we got up to leave the restaurant, he steered me towards the door with his hand lightly placed on my lower back. Instant goosebumps. As we walked down the sidewalk to my car, there was a chill in the midnight air. My blazer was in my car, so I folded my arms over my chest and shivered. Without hesitating, Ryan draped one arm around me and rubbed my arm under his hand to generate some warmth. Oddly, it felt completely natural; his hand on my arm felt warm and comforting and I almost felt like I was melting into him. I no longer felt chilled, but heated from my increasing pulse. As he brought my body in towards his side, I noticed his muscles were lean and strong. I snuggled into him as we walked. He smelled like soap and a visual of a mountain fresh spring ran through my mind, just like a corny commercial. I’m glad he was holding me tight, because I was starting to feel a little breathless and lightheaded. I’m not sure if it was the wine or his touch and proximity.
I pressed the unlock button with my key and the car beeped twice. He released me and then stood only a few inches from me. I turned to him and said quietly, “Thank you, Ryan. This was a really unexpected and lovely evening.”
“I had a really great time tonight with you, too. It was a very pleasant surprise,” he said almost to himself.
I smiled shyly and gazed into his eyes, which now looked dark midnight blue.
“I’m so glad I bumped into you.”
I giggled. I couldn’t help it.
He chuckled then, too, as he caught on to the double meaning. “Okay, that was lame. No pun intended,” he added, smiling down at me.
Just like the first time I met him, time seemed to stop. The movie paused. He looked at my lips and I involuntarily licked them in anticipation, my eyes locked on his. I could feel his sweet breath on my cheek. I wanted him to kiss me. So badly. His lips looked soft and inviting, but he was hesitating; thinking. I wished I could read his mind because I could see the wheels turning in his head. His eyes were on mine, his brows slightly furrowed; he looked so intense and deep in thought.
He finally broke eye contact and looked down. He placed his hands gently on each of my shoulders and bent down to gently kiss my forehead, then tucked his hands into his front jean pockets and took a step back. Whatever battle he’d been fighting in his head had been decided.
He pressed his lips into a little smile, then looked down at me and whispered, “Goodbye, Julia.”
“Goodbye, Ryan,” I whispered back. I couldn’t help feeling disappointed.
He turned around and slowly walked away.
The movie was no longer on pause, but rather moving in slow motion. I felt like I was in a dream. Did this night really happen? After one of the most enjoyable nights I’ve had in my life, an extremely attractive man whom I had this amazing connection with, had just walked me to my car, kissed my forehead, and then said good bye. He didn’t turn around; he didn’t ask for my number; he didn’t say he wanted to see me again. What the hell?!
To be fair, I didn’t say anything, either. Nor did I call out his name or ask why he just turned around and walked away.
Why didn’t I say something?
I knew exactly why. The wound was still too fresh. I wasn’t ready to put myself out there again. My heart felt like it was being squeezed and a deep sense of sadness overcame me.
Maybe it’s totally true what they say about finding love when you least expect it, because I really didn’t see this one coming. I mean, talk about Ryan coming out of left field—that was an understatement. Not that it mattered; I didn’t even know his last name, so it was doubtful I’d ever see him again.
Maybe life was all about taking or missing opportunities. I liked to believe that you created your own fate. I didn’t believe that it was this magical, unexplained thing that happened to you with no say or matter in the end result. I figured if there was a missed opportunity in life, it’s because I somehow willed that decision—I had only myself to blame.