“We haven’t been together very long. So I think the intensity you noticed wasn’t necessarily about me.”
“Ah, I see,” he says, the sound dragging out of him, slow and full of sarcasm. “Then I guess he must have just had a bad burger or something.” He looks back over at me and smiles. “In fact, now that I think about it, he did look more like a man with food poisoning than a man in love,” he continues. “It’s kind of hard to tell them apart sometimes, what with both being such intense feelings and all....” He laughs a little bit. I am smiling, too, realizing that maybe he does have a sense of humor somewhere in there.
“It was definitely food poisoning,” I say, nodding in jest. “Trust me.” Because there’s no way in hell it was love.
When the elevator arrives, we get in and ride to the lobby in silence. Matt nods at me as he steps off the elevator, and I say a quick goodbye. I walk through the lobby a few steps behind him, but he holds the door open for me, and we walk out of the building together. And then he splits off without a word, walking toward the parking garage while I turn toward the bus stop. I take a dozen steps and then stop to get out my cell phone. As I am about to flip it open, it pings.
Hi.
It’s David.
Hi back.
Have a good day at work?
Yes. What r u doing?
Feeling covetous.
Why’s that?
Because you came out with the douche bag.
What? David is here? I scan the courtyard. He is sitting on a bench under an island of trees, looking down at his phone.
What r u doing here?
Giving u a ride.
Where to?
Wherever u want to go.
Anywhere?
Anywhere.
Take me to a burger joint.
Done.
I watch him stand up and slide his phone into his back pocket. He is wearing jeans and an untucked, short-sleeved button-down with black chucks. As he is walking toward me his face is turned as if he is waiting for someone to come out of the building. When he’s a couple dozen steps from me, he turns his face to mine and smirks. I put my phone back into my purse. I want to have two free hands. When he steps up to me, I move forward and slide my hands around his waist. He grasps the back of my neck and kisses me. It is fucking amazing.
I don’t know why, but as we are kissing, I think about something Matt said: “He seems pretty intense. About you, I mean.” This is how David kissed me on Wednesday. This is the same kiss that Matt saw. Apparently, this is the kind of kiss that screams “food poisoning.” And that is some scary shit.
* * *
David takes me to a place called Quarter-Pound Love. They must make a mean burger because the place is full. Really full. And it’s a Monday. We decide to sit at the bar in hopes that we’ll get served faster. As we look at the menus and wait for the bartender to come take our order, we are both silent. David’s hand is on my bare knee. It feels light and sweet and still. He brushes his fingertips across the top of my knee, barely making contact. It is enough to make me want to leave. But I don’t say a word. I don’t flinch. I don’t move. I don’t look up at him. I just read my menu and pretend I don’t notice his fingers sweeping under the hem of my skirt, pushing it up just a little higher.
The bartender comes over to take our order, and David stills his hand, laying it flat on my thigh. When the menus and the bartender are gone, he looks up at the TVs above the bar.
“Are you mad that I came to pick you up?” he asks, watching a baseball game. “You haven’t said very much.”
“Mad? No. I love that you came to pick me up. And that you brought me here. What I’m confused about is why you didn’t tell me you were coming.” It’s true, I am confused about that. I sort of feel like maybe he is trying to catch me doing something I shouldn’t be doing. But that isn’t going to happen because everything I shouldn’t be doing I’m doing with him.
“I didn’t tell you I was coming because I didn’t know that I was,” he says, turning toward me with his hand still on my knee. “Until right before, I mean.” He pauses for a minute, but I can tell he wants to say more. Then he adds, “I was worried about you.”
“Worried about me? Why on earth would you be worried about me? This isn’t about Matt, is it? Because he’s just...he isn’t worth worrying about.” Now I’m really confused. David takes his hand off my knee and skims it through his hair, over his ear to the back of his head. He looks nervous.
“It isn’t about Matt. Don’t be mad at me, okay? For looking. But, a package came for you today. It was sitting outside on the stoop, and I picked it up to take it inside for you and I saw the return address. It’s from your stepdad. And it fucking freaked me out.”