Don't Be Stupid

This is the last time, I promised myself for the hundredth time. Despite my last dating disaster, I had caved to peer pressure and promised my well-meaning and happily married sister that I would give online dating one last try. When I accepted tonight’s date, I vowed to actually give the guy a chance and hold off any judgment until the end of the night. “Even if it sucks, the bright side is a free meal at a 5 star restaurant.” I rolled my eyes at the memory of my big sister’s words of wisdom.

“Lucy, I’m home!” I heard Paul’s bellow as I stepped out of the shower. I had bee-lined it out of work as quickly as possible to ready myself, factoring into my plans that my neighbor would be home to distract me. When I stepped out of the bathroom, he was laying on my bed like he owned the place.

I ignored the scowl that crossed his face when he realized that I was preparing for a date, and continued getting ready. “Why haven’t we ever gotten together?” I jumped at the sound of his voice; he’d been silent for so long I thought he had dozed off.

I arched an eyebrow at the question. “Seriously?” Paul nodded. “Because I’m built for relationships and I can’t remember the last time I saw the same girl leave your apartment two mornings in a row.”

Though it was an accurate statement, I felt a little bad for being so blunt. There had been a few girls he had kept around for a while, though he shied away from the term “girlfriend” like it was a contagious disease. The truth of the matter was that Paul had no issue with relationships; it was long term commitment he avoided.

He was quiet for a long moment, watching absently from his spot sprawled on my bed as I carefully applied eyeliner to make my blue eyes stand out. I’d already foregone the thick-framed black glasses I usually wore in lieu of contact lenses. The longer the silence stretched out, the thicker the air in the room became.

“Is it really too far-fetched for you to consider that we might actually be good together?” Paul finally spoke in a serious tone I’d never heard from him; he almost sounded like he was disappointed in me.
Suddenly the jealous glares and smart-ass queries about my dating life made perfect sense. What didn't make sense what why it had taken over a year for him to come have this revelation. Frustration boiled to the surface before I could even attempt to quell it. “Are we seriously having this conversation right now? I have a date in twenty minutes.”

“You know what, forget I ever brought it up.” The next thing I heard was my front door slamming, followed by an echo as Paul slammed his own door across the hall. Blinking to stop the tears that inexplicably welled in my eyes, I tried to push the whole scene from my mind as I hurriedly finished preparing.

My date’s name was Luke and he picked me up promptly at the agreed upon time, dressed in subtly expensive clothing and standing at his advertised six-foot-two. The entire evening was the antithesis of every other date I’d been on in the past months; he opened doors for me, kept up conversation without monopolizing it, and never once did I feel myself sinking into an abyss of mind-numbing boredom. I should have been elated, but instead I kept replaying the conversation I’d had with Paul hours earlier. Did he really want to be with me? Luke, seeming to sense my preoccupation, politely offered to drive me home before the dessert menu could be presented. I had been on plenty of bad dates, but this was the first in my memory that I could honestly take credit for ruining.

Perfectly polite Luke left me at the front door with a kiss on the cheek and an empty promise to call me sometime, which was honestly more than I deserved for being distracted all evening. It was radio silence from my neighbor as I let myself into my apartment, which served to set off my already piqued temper another notch. By the time I changed into a comfortable pair of shorts and a pilfered Coyotes sweatshirt, my temper was at a rolling boil.

I jerked the front door open, prepared to unleash my fury on my playboy neighbor, only to stumble back in surprise when I found the object of my ire standing at the threshold, hand poised to knock. “How was your date?”

I hated that he managed to make that benign four letter word sound like he was swearing at me. I hated even more that I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to smack that stupid smirk off his face or kiss it off. Against my better judgment, my heart and mind had been in a wild battle in the hours since Paul had posed his loaded question. Without consent of the rational part of my brain, my traitorous heart been coming up with hypothetical scenarios, all ending in us riding off into the sunset. Rationality kept pointing out that Paul was, for all intents and purposes, a man whore. Suddenly exhausted from the games my head was playing with my heart, I opted not to respond to his question and stormed into the living room, flinging myself onto the sofa.

Paul sat beside me, uncharacteristically quiet. He was a fidgeter by nature, it was physically impossible for his hands or legs to be motionless if he was awake. For once, however, he sat unmoving and silent. His stillness made me want to squirm. “Did you mean it?” I finally blurted.

“So what if I did?” He didn't even attempt to play coy, though it was obvious he wasn't about to lay all of his cards on the table at once.

“Look, I’m not trying to pick a fight here. I’m just trying to understand this all. This whole time we've been friends, you've never made a move, never so much as hinted that you thought of me that way.”

“I was trying to do the right thing for once in my life!” He erupted in a shout, effectively silencing both of us. Paul’s hands went to his hair as he stood, stepped away, and took deep breath. It was several long seconds before he circled back and spoke again, this time at a normal volume. “You were a fucking mess when I met you, Ava. I may be pretty damn dense most of the time, but even I could figure out that my usual tactics with women were not what you needed. By the time you stopped looking like you’d break at the slightest touch, I figured I was exiled to the friend zone and I like spending time with you enough that I wasn't willing to rock the boat and risk losing you altogether.”

“Damnit, Paul! I've been in love with you for a year! The only thing holding me back has been my own broken heart and your avoidance of commitment!”

He hesitantly sat down on the coffee table in front of me, pulling my hands away from where they were worrying the hem of my sweatshirt and holding them in his own large hands. “Well, we fucked this up pretty good, didn't we?”

Leave it to Paul to make us both laugh seconds after we were screaming at each other. “Be honest with me; what do you want?”

“I want to stop being a jealous asshole who has to watch you go out with other guys. I want to be better than that prick who broke your heart, so I never have to see you hurt like that again. I want you to be the only girl leaving my apartment in the morning.” It was impossible to doubt the sincerity of his words.

I scooted forward so that our knees touched and met his dark eyes. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

That was the green light he needed. His hands came to my face as he leaned in for a toe curling kiss over a year in the making. When we pulled back, breathless, he smirked, an expression that was all too familiar. “I’m going to stop being stupid.”