Romantic Type

Rachael’s not the romantic type--honestly, she’s not. But it’s spring and the sun is at it’s highest and the sweet, pre-summer air is warm on her skin. The smell of the ocean brushes against her nose and the tang of the salt teases her tastes buds. Blossoming flowers dance in the gentle breeze and they, too, perfume the air. She closes her eyes, allowing the romance to wash over her, before she shakes her head and she continues down the sidewalk, knowing that the season of love isn’t for her, Spring just caught her off guard.

It’s not long after her first romantic burst that Rachael meets her second. This one is triggered by the slightest hint of a rich, musky cologne that’s half a brand product she recognises and half something else entirely and her eyes slip sideways to see why she’s so intoxicated. Her mouth runs dry in the spring heat as she notices him.

He’s tall, broad and muscular. His face his perfectly shaped, with a square jaw and a his full lips are broken by the curve of a glittering band of metal that makes her nerves tingle. His eyes are bright, an odd shade that catches her by surprise when they lock onto hers and she blushes and looks away, but not before noticing that he had been wearing a t-shirt, the stripes of which were coloured exactly the same as the one she wore. She doesn’t want to feel romantic, but she can’t help it. It’s February, and maybe it’s fate.

Rachael doesn’t see her perfect stranger for another week, but she’s happy fantasising about him, because she can still see perfectly every detail she captured. She can remember the way his hair fell into his stunning eyes, and the way the light sparkled off the ring in his full, pouted lips. She knows the stretch of the t-shirt across his muscles and she feels sick for the way she acts but her friend simply smiles at her and calls it lust at first sight. Rachael doesn’t want to hope it’s more than that--she hasn’t seen him since--but her hopes are already unnaturally high.

He finds her at the beach exactly nine and a half days after their first meeting. His find is indirect--his Frisbee had flown several yards off target and knocked Rachael’s book out of her hands--but he smiles when he sees her and she blushes madly. She isn’t charmed by her body’s reaction, but she’s charmed by him.

He notices she’s alone and he offers her the chance to join in, but she notices the way one of the girls is particularly eyeing him and she doesn’t wish to intrude on that; she doesn’t want to break her disillusions yet. She politely declines but accepts his apologies, confirming to him that she’s fine.

“If you insist,” he tells her and his smile is sceptical and what she perceives to be disappointed. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

She tells him her name and she spends the rest of her time on the beach quietly watching him play with his friends--and watch her in return--before she returns home to fantasize a little more. She’s happy to have a name to add to the face and she thinks that Matt is the perfect name for him. It’s both manly and boyish and it’s full of charm. She goes to sleep that night, with dreams of Matt in her mind.

He lives close to her she discovers, two days later, when she spots him in the market. His trolley is stacked only with items for one, she notices, as he makes his way over after he notices her presence and he spends the rest of his shopping trip pushing his cart by hers, making cute comments at the things she buys, whilst she mocks his inability to cook. His trolley is stacked with so many ready meals that she cannot help but offer to show him real home cooking. She’d meant it as a joke, but she does not admit this when he accepts and tells her that he’d love to experience a real taste of the Rachael experience. Needless to say, she hands him her number as she tries not to blush out at the innuendos and double entendres laced in his words.

She doesn’t want to but she checks the phone three times an hour until two pm the next day, when an unfamiliar number sets her cell phone ringing. She answers after three rings, the number that doesn’t make a person look eager, and she’s thrilled to hear his husky voice tickling her ear drums. He apologies for not calling sooner; he has a band and she’s delighted by the fact that he’s a musician. It makes him seem more incredible to her. She tells him it’s fine, that she’s been busy though the most she’s done is watched a rerun of the BBC’s Pride and Prejudice with her best friend whilst they ate their way through a tub of ice-cream and the aforementioned best friend mocked her incessant phone checking.

He promises to stop by in two days time, which gives her enough time to prepare the meal, and he promises that he’ll supply the wine and the dessert. She tries to dissuade him, but is pleased by his persistence and acquiesces far more quickly than she would normally have done. She ends the conversation with a promise of meeting the man who brings out the romantic in her.

He arrives two days later and she’s prepared a meal to perfection. Appetisers line the table in a small display but he ignores them for the moment, pausing by the kitchen to offer not only wine and a tub of gourmet, chocolate chip ice-cream, but also a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers she’s ever seen. They’re a variety of kinds, all bright and fresh with the wonder of spring and she’s stunned into silence as he fetches a vase to put them in.

They spend the rest of the night talking over Rachael’s exquisite dinner. He tells her about his band, the job he works at beside, and all of his interests besides. She likes hearing him talk, his voice is deep and soothing and she can understand why he sings. She, in turn, tells him about her own interests, about her job, about the books she likes to read and the music she likes. They have a lot in common, she’s pleased to discover and she wonders if he is pleased too.

After dinner, she’s reluctant to see him leave and she knows that he, too, doesn’t want to leave just yet. Instead they curl up on her sofa and they watch Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas whilst eating the ice-cream he bought. She’s not sure when, but part way through the film, their hands brush and instead of pulling away, Matt wraps his fingers around her hand and he doesn’t let go until it really is time for him to leave.

They linger in her doorway and she can smell all those intoxicating scents of spring, of romance, and of him. He leans in and he brushes his lips briefly against hers and Rachael is thankful that, just this once, she’s become the romantic type. Because she thinks, that just this once, romance might be okay.