...welcome to the musings of the flawless amour...

Friday, August 24, 2012

Day 23: Disappearing Acts Pt. 3

"Tell me again why you didn't give him your number," Brynn asked. I peered over the salted rim of my classic margarita, looking back at her with my equally classic blank stare. Two weeks had passed since the ride with Kyle and this was the first time I had mentioned him to my best friend. Honestly, the thought of exchanging numbers with him never crossed my mind, although he had piqued my interest.

***If you haven't read parts one & two, click here & here***

"The question is why didn't he ask for my number," I quipped. "When have you ever known me to be that girl?"

"This is true," she started.

"Plus, it wasn't that kind of interaction. We barely said two words to each other the entire ride. It would have been weird."  Brynn looked up from the spinach artichoke dip she was about to dive into. Her icy stare cut straight through my bullshit, causing me to divert my attention to the waiter who nearly dropped a round of drinks.

"So, you're telling me that you don't care if you never see him again?"

Inhale. Exhale. "I'm saying that it would have been weird for us to exchange information after that awkward meeting. That's all. But enough about him. How's the new job going?" I didn't need her playing therapist on me. It was Brynn's first week back in Chicago, having moved back from Texas. We had some catching up to do that didn't involve my lack of a social life.

"Texas is much too hot for people to be alive. I couldn't wait to get back up here," she started. In the back of my mind, I knew this wouldn't be the last of the conversation about Kyle.
Damn Brynn and her inquisitiveness. Since our lunch date my mind kept finding it's way back to the impromptu rendezvous. Prior to today, I had managed to focus on life as it happened around me, not daydreaming about mystery man. It wasn't all bad though because he proved to be a break in the norm for me. His effortless cool was what I found the most attractive. It pulled me in to notice everything else about him like the way his neatly groomed goatee proved to be the perfect frame to his flawlessly sculpted lips. His simple style was refreshing, a nice change of pace from the suited and booted people of the city. It was like he just took life as it came; not a care in the world.

A knock at the door pulled me from my oddly comfortable position on the couch as I watched the rain crashing against my window. I checked the clock as I moved slowly down the hall. I couldn't even get the chain lock off the door before I was met with a barrage of questions asking where I had been all day and why wasn't I answering my phone. This routine was becoming a tiring exercise. I ignored the interrogation and made my way into the kitchen to prepare my tea.


"Why are you yelling?" I asked calmly.

"Where were you all day? I've been calling you!" I watched as the cream swirled around in the chai tea until it became that milky caramel shade. This is the confrontation I had been trying to avoid all day. Marcus and I were, well, Marcus and I. For the better half of a year, we went back and forth between statuses, never able to fully decide what it is we were. A lot of that has to do with his indecisiveness and unwillingness to commit.

"Brynn and I went out after work. I just walked in an hour before you got here. I'm sorry I missed your call." If looks could kill, my next of kin would have been notified in that next second. His face went from mad to pissed the hell off quicker than I could sip and swallow my tea.

"You're sorry you missed my---Yo! What the hell is going on with you? Did I do something?" He almost looked helpless standing in the doorway of my kitchen, his thick brows full of confusion and concern. I took a deep breath, contemplating what I'd say next. It was all very simple: I was tired of being stuck in neutral while he figured out whatever was broken in his life.

"I'm done, Marcus. With whatever it is we're doing--I'm done." I unleashed everything I was feeling as he stood looking dumbfounded, back against the wall, literally and figuratively.
What the two of us shared was never supposed to happen, especially not as fast as it did. As I waited on the red line train, which was six minutes behind schedule, I heard a voice over my left shoulder. 

"This city is much too small for the both of us." From my peripheral, I saw what I knew to be his solid frame. His fresh scent filled my nostrils instead of the usual stench that filled the underground tunnel.

"I agree."

"What's your name?" I turned to face him, finally getting a good look at his six-foot-two inch build. His boyish grin told me that he knew I was checking him out, eyes unabashedly exploring every part of him. A strong gust of wind from the oncoming train caused my hair to blow in my face, obstructing my line of sight. I could see the headlight of the oncoming train just over his shoulder.

"Emory," I replied as my eyes finally reached his gaze. "And you are?"

It started with us meeting once a week for lunch or a walk through the city. Conversations from those daytime outings were revisited over the phone later that night. Before I knew it, a few dates had been had and I found myself in his apartment, waiting for the Chinese takeout to come. Somewhere in the midst of all this, my school girl naivete kicked in, making me believe that this wasn't growing into something serious. It had only been a little over a month since I ended things with Marcus. To be starting something new so soon seemed ludicrous.

Kyle didn't help make much sense of this thing either. Though interest had been expressed, he wasn't pressuring me. I had decided not to tell him about Marcus, further fooling myself into believing what we had was completely innocent. The effortless cool I witnessed the first day we met was still present now. His carefree demeanor made things so much easier for me to enjoy the time I was spending with him.

Born and raised in Chicago, Kyle owned his own clothing store, a small shop in the Wicker Park neighborhood. Fresh out of college, his parents gave him the start up money for his entrepreneurial venture and now at 27, he employed three self-proclaimed fashion gurus and was looking to open a second location on the south side.

Needless to say, I was impressed by his ambition and the fact that he was a little cultured helped matters a lot. That first night, he showed me old pictures of him and the small band he was apart of.

"My dad grew up on the horn and pretty much forced it on me and brothers early on," he remembered. "I never had a problem with it though. I was always one to gravitate towards the different stuff."

"Do you still play?" I asked, eyes focused on a picture of him and his brother cleaning their trumpets.

"Yea, I do. Actually, I'm wrapping up saxophone lessons. Trying to add to the repertoire." He winked at me as he took a long swig of his beer. "Maybe I'll play for you one day."

I returned the photo album to coffee table and leaned back into that comfortable space beneath his outstretched arm. The space was nice and warm, familiar even as I nestled up to him, resting my head on his shoulder. At first, I wanted to ask him if he could play something for me right now but I needed this so much more. I felt his arm slide down from the back of the couch and pull me closer into him. The warm feeling permeated through my body instantly, causing me to close my eyes and just enjoy the moment.

"You tired?" When I didn't answer right away, I felt his soft lips brush against my forehead.

A honking car stirred me from my sleep. Lazily, I opened my eyes, processing my surroundings. In front of me sat two empty Heineken bottles and the opened photo album I had flipped through hours before. The living room was dark except for the light that spilled in from the kitchen. Beneath me, Kyle was snoring lightly. One arm was thrown over his face while the other attempted to hold me in place on top of him. What time is it? I reached for my phone inside of my purse to check.

"No. Stay." Kyle wrapped both his arms around me, forcing me back in to his chest. He held me close so that I couldn't move but loose enough so it wasn't uncomfortable. "It's too late for you to be outside anyway," he offered, placing another kiss on my forehead. My mind rambled for an excuse I could offer up but none came. Honestly, I wanted to stay right where I was.

"Are you trying to hold me hostage?" I asked, smiling into the rise and fall of his chest.

"Are you trying to leave me in the middle of the night?" he returned.

"I didn't want to overstay my welcome. I have a little common courtesy about myself, regardless of what you many think."

"When I want you to leave, I'll show you the door." I looked up into his face. Surprisingly, his was staring down at me. I searched his eyes as best as the dimly lit room would allow, trying to detect any sign of sarcasm. "Until then, you stay." He tussled my curls, which had transformed into a wild fit of something during my slumber. I gave up trying to fight him on the issue, instead choosing to make good use of my time.

My eyes never left his stare as I sat up on top of him. Without a word, I leaned into him, placing a trail of soft kisses from his forehead until I reached my destination. They were exactly how I imagined them to be, full and warm. We soon found a comfortable rhythm in each other and stayed there.

I would soon learn that a lot of things came to him effortlessly...

photo credit: studiosuryayoga.com

No comments:

Post a Comment