Second and A Half

The very beginnings of Autumn in the California Valley is highlighted with a distinct heat in the day and an even more distinct chill in evenings, it’s the type of chill that makes a commute on a motorcycle close to unbearable without a coat. Not that I go without a coat on my motorcycle anyway, even in the dead of the summer. In the month and a half since the sorority party, Parker and I have shared an impressive amount of text messages, occasional video chats, and a single meet up for dinner at a small scale restaurant in Midtown which charged heavily for a salad. Not quite enough to classify what we have going on as a formal relationship, but more like just simply getting to know each other a little more without the melodrama of commitment. So to say, I’m not quite ready enough to commit to writing a love note on a sticky note and sticking it on my fridge, but I have already begun on thinking about what to put on it. Emilia’s description of him was as apt as anything else that she says, though in the days that followed our initial meeting I’ve come to know Parker as someone who is not only committed to his career, but also committed to anything that he has deemed to have some semblance of worth; which I guess would explain why he went so hard that first day — or perhaps that’s just my newly found self-centeredness. Further, in the months that Parker and I have been talking, I realized that a big reason that I haven’t fully let myself open to him is because the sticky note with Matthew’s name on it is still stuck on the metaphorical fridge. Though, I did agree to meet him for another date, if that’s the correct word, at one of the larger parks in the city at noon for a “Walk and Talk”. We debated back and forth about the location, he wanted to go hiking during the weekend, and I wanted to stay as close to the urban center as possible and we decided that a park surrounded by mid-century buildings would be a close enough compromise, provided that I agree to go hiking with him sometime in the near future. The park is closer to my campus than his, and the compromise also included that the hike that we would go to would be closer to his campus than mine — it also just so happens that he works in the city, so I might have been duped by my lack of compromise skills.

Dust from the graveled path rises up as I park my motorcycle so I dust off any lingering dust that may have gotten on my work uniform. After securing my helmet in the storage attached to the chassis, I send a message to Parker. Look for a woman in a bright green v-neck and tan jeans by the pond. I place myself in a easily visible spot by the large pond which serves as the center of the entire park. Several middle aged women walking past give me scornful glances, and when I give a courteous nod to them they respond with an upturn of their noses and quick return of their attention to the path ahead of them. They must have a reserved notion of the people who use the park, anyone outside of their pre-approved demographic must seem like a person with malicious intent.

An unexpected voice speaks from behind me while I am preoccupied with staring down the middle aged women, almost making me leap into the pond. “Excuse me, I’m looking for someone in a bright green shirt and tan jeans,” I turn around to see Parker feigning to search around the park, “is that you Miss?”

“Not going to lie, I almost jumped into the pond.”

“And possibly ruin your uh— interesting fashion choice?”

I hang my head in shame, “I know, it’s not ideal, but I’m technically on my lunch break and I didn’t have time to change out of my uniform.”

“Why is it so bright green and tan?”

“Oh come on, you’re a biologist, shouldn’t you be able to recognize an earthy theme? I work for an organic smoothie shop on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays.”

“Trust me when I say that nothing organic in this world is that unnatural shade of green, but you’re cute so I’ll ignore the slight disrespect of commercializing nature.” He extends his hand, “Come on, let’s go on this walk.”

I glance at his hand, “Holding hands huh? Isn’t that kind of date material?”

“If it’s okay with you, I’ve been considering this our second date.” He replies candidly and winces when he sees my furrowed brows, “Or is that weird to say?”

The idea that this is a second date to him is weird to me, not because he’s not the type of person I’m not interested to date, but an interpersonal struggle continues to eat away at the parts of my brains which allow me to perceive that a man like Parker wanting to date me is a good thing. I take a deep breath to revitalize those very same parts of my brain and when my lungs are filled with air, I slowly begin to release the air after I take his hand, “Of course it’s okay with me, this is a date.”

Parker’s eyes light up and he begins walking, “That made my entire day.”

“Don’t count your eggs just yet, there’s still an entire half day ahead of us.”

“Is that you hinting at something?”

“Maybe, you tell me, based on how our last date went, how do you think this is going to go?”

“That depends, is there an established relationship between our dates and post-date activities, and if so, how is it trending?”

“Keep talking like that, and it’ll rise exponentially.” I state outright.

The same group of middle aged women pass us by, stop in their tracks, begin gawking at us, and I notice that their attention is immediately drawn to Parker. The scornful gazes that they shot at me are replaced with a curious look, and soft whispering amongst themselves. In my mind, I begin pleading to the universe for them not to stop in their tracks and ruin an otherwise chill moment between me and Parker.

I feel him grip my hand harder, “Do any of you have anything to say or are you just going to rudely gawk at us?” He yells out at the group, to which they respond with shocked murmurs and I could swear that one of them mumbled the word inconsiderate. They begin walking faster than they did before leaving a trail of gravel dust in their wake. “Sorry about that, that type of gawking usually ends up with one of them flaunting their entitlement like they own the damn park.” We begin walking once they are out of our sight.

His reaction to the judgemental flock peaks my curiosity, “Emilia told me that she met you on the internet, what rare part of the internet did she dig you up from?”

“That’s a bit of a half-truth. We met at an adventure camp the summer before High School, and after that we digitally kept in touch.”

“So that’s why you still call her Em, Matthew told me that’s what she used to go by in middle school.”

“Matthew?”

“Yeah,” my voice stifles, “my ex I mentioned when we first met, he was Emilia’s best friend throughout High School.”

“You don’t happen to be talking about Matthew Rivas are you?”

“I am talking about him, why?”

“I met him at the same adventure camp. Em confused me with Matthew and asked me if I could take a splinter out of her thumb thinking that I was him,” he grins as he realizes something, “so that’s why Em told you that I would probably be your type! I look a bit like your ex.”

“The similarities between you and him start and end with looks alone,” I assure him, “You are two very different people.”

“Well, we did say that we were both approaching this as a rebound,” an awkward silence occurs between the two of us and for a moment I think that I feel him releasing my hand but that suspicion is quickly erased when he speaks again, “I think it’s good that relationship didn’t work out, his personality must not have mixed well with yours.” He looks at me and offers a kind smile, “who knows, maybe I’ll be a little better than him.”

“It’s not a competition,” I say softly, “You two are different people, and I think it would be unfair to compare apples to oranges, which by the way, I like both.”

“You’re nothing like my ex, if that’s what I would call her, either,” he quickly responded, “but yeah, you’re right. Comparing two different people is useless.”

“For what it’s worth, I enjoyed the last date we had, and I’m immensely enjoying this date, I haven’t had much experience in the dating department, but I’m given to understand that people tend to hold things back.”

“I’m only holding things back because there’s definitely a correct way to space out information. I think the slower we get to know someone, the easier that information gets absorbed into our perceptions of the other person.”

“And maybe there’s also an element of suspense, like a book where you want to keep reading to the next chapter but you know that if you start it, you might get overloaded.”

“Em was right, you’re brilliant.”

Before I am able to give him a proper response, my phone vibrates in my pocket signaling that I have less than ten minutes left to get back to my shift. “Shit, I have to go back to work.” I give him an apologetic look, “Sorry to cut our conversation short.”

“That’s okay,” he releases my hand, “before you go, are you available tonight?”

“I should be, do you want to grab some dinner?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Is that a third date or a continuation of the second?”

“A continuation. Consider today a day with a date and a half.”

“I have an afternoon class, but I’ll be out at seven.”

I begin to turn away but he puts his hand on my shoulder, “Do you mind if I kiss you?”

“Not at all,” I turn back to him.

He leans in, this time I pull him closer to me. He has to crouch down due to his taller stature and once we are finished he lifts my cheek with his thumb and forefinger, “Text me your address, I’ll pick you up this time, we’re going to go somewhere nice.”

“Okay.” I find myself biting my lower lip to fight off an impulsive grin, “I’ll see ya.”

“See you soon.”

***

My motorcycle squeals as the tires buckles under the pressure of a sharp turn into my parking space. The overwhelming bouquet of burnt rubber, gasoline, and the general air of the neighborhood fill my nostrils once I take my helmet off. I pat my top bun to check on how flat the helmet has made it. There is something strangely humorous about how my helmet never fails to make my hair feel like a semi-flattened cinnamon bun. I swing my backpack around to check my phone for any notifications that I may have missed in the ride between my campus and my apartment complex, and once my phone is in my hands I secure my helmet in it’s holder before I begin walking to my apartment. The chill of the autumn night begins making itself present in the form of a gust of wind that rushes between the two smaller buildings which is enough to make a layer of moisture condense on my phone screen.

I rub the moisture off of the screen which my phone to begin going through the notifications: a text message from Colton asking me to take care of dinner and informing me that he’ll be staying late at work, a message from my mother gossiping about Mrs. Vang’s decision to plant a garish flower bush that my mother describes as a window eyesore, a message from Parker telling me that he would be picking me up in roughly an hour at 8:45, and strangely, a rare notification which states that Matthew has posted on one of his social media pages which makes me stop turning the key in the lock. I quickly tap on the notification and a picture of the man that I have missed these past couple of years fills my phone, though it seems that things have completely changed. Holding onto him is a stunning woman with strawberry blonde hair. Something possesses me and I swipe to the next picture on the post which is one of them wrapped in a tight embrace with the lights of a plaza shining through the space between the curve of their nose. The same force that possessed me to swipe left also makes me leave a “like” on the picture and a comment saying congratulations, so happy for you! Upon leaving the comment I turn my phone off and I find myself making my way up onto the rooftop deck. I see my feet landing on the stony concrete of each step on the stairs, but it doesn’t register that my feet are making contact with a hard surface. The sky is a deep violet with a rosey pink fading into the place on the horizon where the sun had finished setting. Breathtaking colors and a refreshing breeze would be enough to entrance me on any given day, but all I can focus on is a numbing radiating from the center of my spine which fades into an ache as it gets closer to my chest. Heartbreak; something I haven’t felt in an overwhelming drove since the day I watched him disappear into the airport terminal three years ago.

The wooden bench seems to be more comfortable than it has in the past, and I move it into a position where I can sit and lean back onto the picnic table so I can look out into this view that I have been so captivated with ever since I moved to this apartment. I guess this was inevitable. Perhaps he was always bound to find another person; proximity is so important when it comes to love, or keeping relationships together. Hell, that’s just humanity. There’s a reason why long distance relationships never last, that is unless the people involved are either just a perfect match or they just plain lie to themselves.

Soon, the deep violet overtakes the entirety of the sky and the lights of the nighttime city skyline flares to life and I take the time to just sit here and gaze out into the wonderful simplicity of the view. Things were so simple when I was a teenager, and I silently curse the universe for the process of aging and the difficulty that comes with the years that is just as inevitable as Matthew finding someone else. The sky begins revealing the barely visible stars, I begin wondering how the night sky must be so different on the East Coast. How different is she from me, perhaps she’s better than I could ever be, just the smile on those pictures and the perfectly manicured hand placed on Matthew’s chest lets me know that she is bounds and leaps beyond all I could ever be. And just as those stars slowly begin to illuminate themselves against the velveteen sky, I slowly begin accepting the fact that he has moved on. As I’ve told Colton before, we aren’t teenagers anymore, we are so, so, fundamentally different from who we were back then.

The door leading to the rooftop deck swings open and makes slams against the brick wall, “Of course you’re up here!” Colton shouts at me, “I ran into Parker on my way up, he’s waiting for you downstairs.”

I slowly turn my head. Colton’s figure is blurry, and seeing him makes me aware of the tears streaking down my cheeks.

He scoffs, “Yeah! I went looking for you and then it hit me that I should look up here—“ He stops talking when I begin sniffling and then goes to wrap me in his arms in an attempt to comfort me where I begin sobbing into the crook between his chin and chest. “What’s wrong?”

I fail to muster the vocal strength to reply to him properly, the best that I am able to choke up are meager syllabic sounds that vaguely sounds like Matthew’s name, though Colton understands me well enough.

He holds me closer, “I told you not to listen to that stupid playlist. Do I need to forcefully delete that shit from your phone?”

I wiggle out of his arms, “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“Just give me your phone.”

Colton unlocks his phone, hands it to me, and I quickly pull up the picture. I turn the phone just in time so that I don’t get the chance to look at picture again.

“Bro.” Colton gapes, “Is that shit real?” He slides onto the next picture and a shocked gasp comes out of his mouth, “I’m—I don’t even know what to say.”

“So don’t say anything.” I respond to him vacantly then turn back to the space my eyes were transfixed to before, “There was a part of me that always knew that this was inevitable, that this was always bound to happen, and that all those hours I spent listening to the playlist or all those moments I spent missing him were just things to deny myself that realization. So I guess you’re right, it’s time to move on, he clearly already has.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I was always told that you allow yourself to feel everything, whether in its entirety or through small bursts over a period of time. My uncle was always partial to the latter, but his husband likes the first option better.” I pause to turn my phone back on, “I think I’ll follow his husband’s lead.” I clear my sinuses with one last heavy sniff and start heading back to my apartment.

Parker is seated on our couch wearing clothes that is somewhere in between formal and casual: a tan leather jacket and black jeans, clothes which are entirely different from what he wore earlier in the day.

“You look nice,” I tell him while quickly giving my eyes one last rub to clear them from any remnants of a tearful haze, “if we’re going somewhere nicer then give me a quick moment to get changed?”

“Sure,” he narrows his eyes, “you look kind of beat up, are you good?”

“Yes, I’m just fine.” I fake a smile after the sound of my backpack landing on the floor makes Parker wince, then I proceed to walk into the hallway, then into my room. The door closes behind me and I hear Parker asking Colton about me, and I grit my teeth upon hearing Colton start explaining the situation to him. An urge to stomp to the living room to scream at Colton stops my hand from sliding my closet open, but I quell it with a momentary distraction of mulling over clothing options. I replace my t-shirt with a soft dark green turtleneck long sleeve shirt, drape a black cardigan over it, change out my jeans with black high waist jeans, and finish the ensemble with a pair of fake leather high-heeled boots. Enough to match Parker’s weird dichotomy of formal yet casual. I return to the living room and ignore the concerned looks written on their faces while retrieving my clutch from my backpack.

“Soleil, are you sure you’re good?” Colton cautiously presses the situation.

“Please drop it Colt,” I plead him to stop pressing any further, “I’m fine.”

In a move seemingly meant to defuse the situation Parker gets on his feet, joins me at the small foyer to place a hand on my back, “We’re gonna head out now, later bro.” They bump fists and Parker opens the door for me.

I notice that Colton hangs his head a bit so I give him a quick hug before I walk out the door, and while my lips are near his ears I whisper, “You’re my best friend and I’ll always love you.”

He wraps his arms around me and squeezes, “Dibs on your leftovers loser.”

I step back, wave goodbye at him, then step outside. Colton closes the door behind me, and I take Parker’s hand, “I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it tonight, we don’t. We can just have a pleasant part two of our date without talking about things if that’s what you want.” He approaches a sleek maroon car parked right in front of my building, he then grazes his finger across the door handle to unlock it and he swings the passenger side door open for me.

Once I settle inside the interior, I wait for him make his way to the driver’s side before I decide to clear the situation up for him, “You know the thing I told you before, how I didn’t want to approach whatever this is like a rebound? That still remains true.”

“I believe you. I’m guessing that we are going to have an intimate conversation about our pasts tonight?”

“Well, I was always told that talking about things helps someone get over things that hurt them, and I am pretty hurt right now.”

“If that’s what you want, then I’m here to listen and also am an open book.” He places a hand on my lap before offering a reassuring smile.

I intertwine my fingers with his, “Alright, then I guess I should tell you that whatever Colton told you about Matthew was right. He posted a picture of his new girlfriend, and it set me off.”

“As one should upon learning some distressing news.”

Streetlights rush past the window illuminating my face in an increasingly rapid pace, “I have to tell you, this is really weird. Usually I go to Colton for these types of things. Like, he was there for me when Matthew first went across the country, I was kind of there for him when he and Emilia broke up in High School, though I did end up dating her best friend.” The interior of Parker’s car is almost sterile, but still retains a sense of comfort about it, “I know that High School romances never last, but I still can’t get over this feeling of loss over the possibility of what Matthew and I could have been.”

“I would say that some High School romances last a little bit after, but so rarely do they last for longer after that.” He offers his point of view.

My curiosity is peaked once again, “You say that like you have some experience with that.”

“Okay, before I share this with you, I have to ask you something. You told me before that you were glad that Colton seemed to be happy after having that thing with Emilia during the pool party, how was he like when they first broke up?”

“Yeah, actually I think he’s gonna meet up with her for a date again sometime soon, a complete reversal from how he used to be after they broke up: where he would be very obviously faking a smile or I would see glimpses of a scowl on him whenever he would see something that reminded him of her.”

Parker falls into a contemplative silence then takes a deep breath before he continues speaking again, “Do you know the reason why they broke up?”

I widen my eyes in a moment of realization, “Actually, no I really don’t. I know they broke up after they had a fight in the cafeteria, but Emilia threw an apple at my nose so I was preoccupied with trying not to bleed out of my nostrils.”

“I guess it’s a good reason you’re not the one driving right now.” He makes an awkward attempt at a chuckle, “I’m about to tell you the reason why.”

“Please do tell, this might be enough to snap me out of my emotional funk.”

“Hmm, we’ll see. It might snap you further into it,” he warns me in a slightly dangerous tone, “Are you absolutely sure you want to hear this?”

“Go ahead, I’m an open book and an open listener too.” I tighten my grip on his hand which elicits a sigh from him.

“It was me.”

“What was?”

“Their fight happened because he found some risque text messages that we had exchanged. And shortly after their breakup, Em and I started this weird dating but not-dating thing. Kind of like, we were just a few steps from dating but we never reached that point. I think the word she used for it was a situationship.” He looks over at me, and his mouth curls into a frown upon seeing my mouth stuck in a gape, “Did that ruin all the good things that you think about me?”

I ensure that my hand is still locked with his in an effort to offer a physical assurance, “No, not at all. I’m just taken aback by all of this. Colton was so hurt, and all this time I never knew that the reason was because she moved on even before the relationship ended.”

“That’s not actually all that true,” He quickly interjects, “she never moved on, she told me that she wanted to stop the thing we had going on when she saw the both of you when she was in town coordinating the catering. She told me that she could introduce me to someone who may just be a bit more wonderful than she is.”

I feel my cheeks redden, “And, what did you think about that?”

“Honestly, I was hesitant at first. But the way you introduced yourself to me was a definite indication that you were someone that was worth spending some time with, at least for me.”

“So, would you say that the situation kind of worked out in an ideal situation? Emilia and Parker are fixing whatever they have, and the rebound matchmaking that she pulled off seems to be a success to me.”

“There’s more things that I want to get to know about you, just as much as I’m sure you want to know about me, but yeah, Em’s plan did end up going along as planned.”

“Let me ask you this, since we’re being open again, are you okay with Colton and Emilia possibly ending up back together?”

“I want to say that I’m neutral about it. Em’s a great girl, she deserves the things that will end up making her happy, so if the person that’ll help her reach that is Colton, then so be it. He seems to be a great person too.”

“He was the one who started putting the idea of moving on into my head in the first place.”

“I’ll have to thank him for that. But just so we’re clear, you aren’t looking for a situationship are you? Because I’m over that B.S.”

I consider my answer for a moment, my mind begins to fill with a haze with the singular thought of that bitch with the strawberry blonde hair cuts through the fog of thoughts effectively establishing my resolve, “I would be open to the possibility of this becoming an official thing.” The car makes a sharp tilt as he drives out of the freeway, “And back to the date, mind telling me where we’re going?”

He points to the side of the mall just a little bit beyond the freeway exit, “The restaurant over there that does a rotating menu every week, a little more formal than your average restaurant but still casual enough to be appropriate for a second and a half date.” He explains.

I squirm in my seat. The restaurant he’s referring to is that type of place that I would look at the menu and scoff, I find that a meal at a shoddy eat-in could be just as good as a meal at a place with an interior that is classier than the places that I am used to. There was a time that Colton and I attempted to step inside of the restaurant. We took one look at the menu, begun laughing at each other and decided to go a place where the food doesn’t taste like buyer’s remorse.

To my surprise, Parker doesn’t find a parking space but instead chooses to use the valet service available in front of the restaurant. I watch him in a stunned silence while he hands the keys over to the valet driver. He realizes that I’m still not out of the car so he leans down and peers inside of his car, “You coming?”

My fingers fumble over undoing the seatbelt, “Y—yes, yes I am. Let me just—“ I quickly bring the vanity mirror down and start pretending to check on some non-existent makeup. Once I finish mimicking those actions I grab my clutch and scramble out of the car. The valet driver gets into the driver’s seat shortly after I exit the vehicle. Parker extends his hand to me, “No need to be nervous, come on.”

We walk through the restaurant’s front doors where the restaurant’s host welcomes us with a warm, albeit forced, smile. Parker confirms a reservation, then the host brings the menus to the cradle of her arms and she asks us to follow her to our table.

This setting is leagues beyond the dates that I used to go on with Matthew. The interior lighting is specifically set up to highlight the food being served to the customers, the furniture is polished and is designed to reflect an American aesthetic, and the entire ensemble is finished with an impressive glass wine cellar to the back of the restaurant. The host leads us to a booth for two in a part of the restaurant which affords us a view of the kitchen, the wine cellar, and the well stocked bar.

“I have to tell you Parker, I’m a little bit shell shocked right now.” I confess to him as we settle into the comfortable upholstered seats.

A waiter rushes to our booth, “Good evening folks, may I start you off with some drinks?”

“Two glasses of your best white wine, and while you’re here, we’re going to have the mushroom flatbread appetizer for two.” Parker turns to me, “do you want water?”

“I’m fine with whatever.”

“Then, two sparkling waters please,” he finishes his request and the waiter goes to place the orders, “This place has a great wine selection, what were you saying earlier?”

“That this place is super out of my league, I usually go for places like the taqueria by my apartment or the casual eatery that Colton has single-handedly saved from bankruptcy.” I take the cloth napkin from the table, “Take this for example, I’m pretty sure that this napkin has a higher thread count than my bedsheets.”

“Just take a moment to breathe then, this place is great, just trust me.”

“Alright, I will.”

***

Dinner with Parker went off without a hitch. The mushroom flatbread was followed by the entrees; he ordered a filet mignon drizzled with a red wine sauce, and I got the chance to eat lamb for the first time in my life. Dessert came in the form of shots filled with a creamed sweet which was paired with a delicate pastry which was made for the specific cream. Everything that came across our table was so exquisitely plated that I began to wonder how much everything was — the menus didn’t have the prices listed on them, and Parker insisted on paying for everything. All I know is that the blonde broccoli which I mistook for cauliflower represented my general confusion with the restaurant. When it came time to pay for everything Parker made be blush as he said, “You deserve nice things Soleil.”

We find our way back to my apartment where he walks me to my door.

“I had a really fun night tonight,” I turn to face him.

“That’s good to hear, I have to tell you that I really enjoy spending time with you.”

Before I open my door, I turn around and run a finger along his jaw, “Do you maybe want to come inside?”

Parker leans in and leaves a kiss on my neck, “If I come inside, I might end up running through all the bases,” he whispers gruffly into my ear, leaving a spot of wet warmth on the nape of my neck.

My legs buckle against the wood of the door as he pushes his knee in between the space of my thighs. “You tell me, is that a bad thing?”

“Not if you don’t think it is.”

A frenzy of physical action arises once he finishes his sentence. It becomes heated enough that I am barely able to open my door, once I am able to do so it swings open under our weight. Parker catches me before I completely hit the ground by reaching underneath me and pulling my legs up to his torso, leaving me to cling onto him like a pole and to drop the eco-friendly to-go box and my clutch onto the floor by the hallway closet. Relying solely on my interlocked legs, interlocked arms, and the sheer friction between our tongues, he makes his way to my room. “Go left,” I take a quick break to inform him which room to step into and to take a breath of air that didn’t originate from his lungs. As I do so, I make eye contact with Colton who is sitting on the sofa looking damn near catatonic. For some reason, I sustain the eye contact with him until Parker rounds the corner to my room.

My body hits my bed and Parker hovers above me. The ghost of Matthew had been haunting my mind throughout this entire night, but it is in this moment when I am staring into Parker’s piercing blue eyes that I feel that same ghost slipping away, or perhaps the feeling is me moving on. Whatever those feelings are, they begin to melt away altogether at the sensation of Parker nibbling at my neck.