don’t know you. You may be one, too.
Who knows?” Mac shrugs his shoulders dramatically. “But before
you start a cock war over this girl, remember that winning the fight
is not worth more than the prize.”
“Effectively, you’ll
break my balls off if I hurt her,” I surmise. “You’re
threatening the wrong brother here.”
Before he can reply,
Emily walks out of the treatment room, box in hand.
“I’ll take care of
this,” Mac says, taking the box from her hands.
“No wearing my
dress!” she teases, punching him in the arm.
Truthfully, I actually
had a million things to do today. I had just wanted to drop her key
off. That was the real reason for my visit, but I had since
instantaneously cleared my schedule. I’d take spending a day with
this girl over just about anything in life.
We walk for a few
blocks before she asks, “Where are we going?”
I laugh. “I thought
you knew.”
“I was following
you,” she says, mouth agape.
“Blind leading the
blind,” I say. The euphemism is not lost on me. “Okay, close your
eyes,” I command.
“Why?”
“Trust me,” I
reply, spinning her around twice.
“Now open them, and
we’ll do the first thing you see,” I say as she steadies herself.
We stand at a traffic light, surrounded by cinemas, theatres, cafes,
restaurants, Laundromats, even an adult shop or two.
She points and opens
her eyes. I follow her line over to a small theatre. “Is that even
open?” I laugh. Mottled and half-ripped off posters riddle the
double doors, which are presently ajar.
“You said the first
thing I saw,” she teases.
We walk over to the
entrance. Emily looks excited, and I like that she’s just herself
around me. When Blake tried to knock me out on the day we first met,
I saw her face when she saw him. She immediately righted her posture.
Smoothed her clothes. Brushed back stray hairs with her hand. I felt
in that moment, that the person I had just met had disappeared, and
in her place stood a woman so incredibly uncomfortable in her own
skin.
I’m not the type to
fall in love easily. In fact, I’ve never even had a serious
girlfriend. Or ever really wanted one. I just coast, waiting for the
feeling that tells me that someone is worth it. Not the feeling of my
dick rising. The feeling I felt when I met Emily. From that day, I
was consumed. I wanted to be with her. My conscience was an asshole,
reminding me that this was not the right thing to do, irrespective of
my opinion of my brother. I had promised to respect what she wanted
when we had spoken this morning.
But serendipity is
determined to fling her into my path. Almost like a carrot dangling
before me. My own beautiful temptation.
We walk across the road
to the dilapidated theatre. Pushing the door in, I’m almost certain
the place is abandoned. But as we walk in further, I hear voices. The
corridor opens up into a surprisingly elegant but small theatre,
complete with red velvet curtains. There’s a rehearsal happening on
the stage.
“Who are you?” A
voice booms from below. A very short, balding man stands staring at
us, hands on hips.
“Prospective
sponsors,” I say in my most authoritative voice.
“What are you doing?”
Emily whispers.
“Thinking on my
feet,” I say softly.
I look down at my jeans
and polo shirt, and Emily’s black pants and tank, and hope that he
buys it.
“Come in, sit,” he
says, gesturing grandly at the empty theatre’s rows, a broad smile
now plastered across his pudgy face.
I nod, and we make our
way to the seats. The play is a modern take on Romeo and Juliet.
Emily watches, fascinated, as Romeo and Tybalt stand face to face,
cocked prop guns replacing the swords they should be holding. I watch
her as Juliet lays dying on the ambulance stretcher. Tears fill her
eyes. It’s so endearing. I trace the line from her jaw down her
neck. Take in the stray hairs that tickle the back of her neck.
Memorize every detail, every perfect imperfection. I realize that
Who knows?” Mac shrugs his shoulders dramatically. “But before
you start a cock war over this girl, remember that winning the fight
is not worth more than the prize.”
“Effectively, you’ll
break my balls off if I hurt her,” I surmise. “You’re
threatening the wrong brother here.”
Before he can reply,
Emily walks out of the treatment room, box in hand.
“I’ll take care of
this,” Mac says, taking the box from her hands.
“No wearing my
dress!” she teases, punching him in the arm.
Truthfully, I actually
had a million things to do today. I had just wanted to drop her key
off. That was the real reason for my visit, but I had since
instantaneously cleared my schedule. I’d take spending a day with
this girl over just about anything in life.
We walk for a few
blocks before she asks, “Where are we going?”
I laugh. “I thought
you knew.”
“I was following
you,” she says, mouth agape.
“Blind leading the
blind,” I say. The euphemism is not lost on me. “Okay, close your
eyes,” I command.
“Why?”
“Trust me,” I
reply, spinning her around twice.
“Now open them, and
we’ll do the first thing you see,” I say as she steadies herself.
We stand at a traffic light, surrounded by cinemas, theatres, cafes,
restaurants, Laundromats, even an adult shop or two.
She points and opens
her eyes. I follow her line over to a small theatre. “Is that even
open?” I laugh. Mottled and half-ripped off posters riddle the
double doors, which are presently ajar.
“You said the first
thing I saw,” she teases.
We walk over to the
entrance. Emily looks excited, and I like that she’s just herself
around me. When Blake tried to knock me out on the day we first met,
I saw her face when she saw him. She immediately righted her posture.
Smoothed her clothes. Brushed back stray hairs with her hand. I felt
in that moment, that the person I had just met had disappeared, and
in her place stood a woman so incredibly uncomfortable in her own
skin.
I’m not the type to
fall in love easily. In fact, I’ve never even had a serious
girlfriend. Or ever really wanted one. I just coast, waiting for the
feeling that tells me that someone is worth it. Not the feeling of my
dick rising. The feeling I felt when I met Emily. From that day, I
was consumed. I wanted to be with her. My conscience was an asshole,
reminding me that this was not the right thing to do, irrespective of
my opinion of my brother. I had promised to respect what she wanted
when we had spoken this morning.
But serendipity is
determined to fling her into my path. Almost like a carrot dangling
before me. My own beautiful temptation.
We walk across the road
to the dilapidated theatre. Pushing the door in, I’m almost certain
the place is abandoned. But as we walk in further, I hear voices. The
corridor opens up into a surprisingly elegant but small theatre,
complete with red velvet curtains. There’s a rehearsal happening on
the stage.
“Who are you?” A
voice booms from below. A very short, balding man stands staring at
us, hands on hips.
“Prospective
sponsors,” I say in my most authoritative voice.
“What are you doing?”
Emily whispers.
“Thinking on my
feet,” I say softly.
I look down at my jeans
and polo shirt, and Emily’s black pants and tank, and hope that he
buys it.
“Come in, sit,” he
says, gesturing grandly at the empty theatre’s rows, a broad smile
now plastered across his pudgy face.
I nod, and we make our
way to the seats. The play is a modern take on Romeo and Juliet.
Emily watches, fascinated, as Romeo and Tybalt stand face to face,
cocked prop guns replacing the swords they should be holding. I watch
her as Juliet lays dying on the ambulance stretcher. Tears fill her
eyes. It’s so endearing. I trace the line from her jaw down her
neck. Take in the stray hairs that tickle the back of her neck.
Memorize every detail, every perfect imperfection. I realize that
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