My phone rings at 11pm.
"Are you ready? I'm out back," he says.
I slide into his black XTerra and we head to the PCH. For the last few nights we've been heading south into Orange County in search of bioluminescence, the kind that makes the waves glow blue. The marine layer is thick tonight, so our chances of seeing anything are low, but we go anyway, because cabin fever is real.
He holds my hand while he drives. We spent the whole day apart, me reading in the park, him watching 70's film noir at home. The quarantine is getting to both of us, but for very different reasons, and it's nice to reconnect tonight.
We stop at Sunset Beach first. The fog makes everything eery and spooky and we hold hands and poke each others butts as we walk across the beach. It's nice to breath in the ocean air, to hear the waves crash. But there's nothing to see here tonight.
"Let's keep going down to Newport," he says.
We roll through Huntington Beach. It's eerily quiet, like a ghost town. All the street parking and the parking lots along the PCH are blocked off. It's Saturday night at 11:30 at there's not a soul out, except for the gaggle of police officers in front of the Havianna's store. This is the third time we've seen police since we left Long Beach - they must be bored.
We stop at a second beach somewhere between Huntington and Newport. It's in a neighborhood, probably on the Balboa Peninsula, but I'm not paying attention. After years of driving alone, it's nice to be the passenger. We hop out. The marine layer is just as thick and swampy here.
"Do you remember that short story, the Stephen King one?" I ask.
"The Mist! Yeah!" he exclaims. We make jokes about the kinds of creatures this mist contains. Probably prepubescent assholes just looking to jack off on the windshield, we agree. This is why I love him, because his sense of humor is my sense of humor.
"Do you want to come over?" he asks.
We don't see any bioluminescence tonight, but the drive was a success in other ways.
_________________________________________________________________________________
The roommate-cum-ex-girlfriend bomb did little to deter us. We met on August 17th and by Labor Day we'd spent more days together than apart.
"I can't believe you're gonna be gone the whole weekend," he texted. "Two weeks and you got me sprung :)"
I couldn't believe it either. I'm usually quite aloof, but he was different. It was scary and exciting and I was terrified of fucking it up. Still am, if I'm being totally honest.
We both knew it would come to an end, though, because just as we were getting to know one another, Will was furiously trying to finish an album for release in February, plus get ready for his first-ever European tour. Our time was limited and we acted like it. Before we knew it, September 19th would be here, and this dating whirlwind would come to a screeching halt for five weeks.
The next five weeks were magical, though, - all hilariously fun dates and sex and talking. We both marveled at how fast things were moving and how out of character that was for both of us. I think we were both trying to convince the other that we were not, in fact, stalkers; that we were both incredibly reasonable people who happened to meet on Tinder and were surprised by the perfectly fantastic person we'd found.
_________________________________________________________________________________
We finally make it home around 12:30. Both of us are tired, but only one of us is burnt to a crisp.
"You're half-baked," he jokes. Indeed I am. The entire backside of my body is an angry red and I'm finding it difficult to sit down.
"I can't believe you didn't put on any sunscreen. You have to put on sunscreen, Mindy, it's not good for you," he admonishes me. He's right and it's annoyingly endearing.
We both head to bed. His room is stuffy, so he leans over and turns on the air-conditioner. We can both feel the heat radiating off my thighs, in the most non-sexual way possible.
All the sun is making me sleepy, but I missed him today. We have very quiet sex and before we fall asleep, he whispers, "Remember that time you met me in Berlin?" I smile. It is good.
_________________________________________________________________________________
"I just want you to know that if anything happens on tour, it's okay. Like, you don't have to tell me, we can just move on."
We were having dumplings at Din Tai Fung the night before he left for tour. Things had been going so well, and I was dreading this conversation. I knew this was the first time he'd been single on tour in a LONG time and I didn't want him to feel any pressure, since things were so new. But I also knew I wanted to keep dating him when he got back to the States. I figured I'd play my cards right and just advocate for a Don't Ask, Don't Tell situation. I was surprised by his response.
"Oh, that's definitely not my style. And I want to keep dating you, too," he assured me
So I suppose it was settled.
But in the back of my mind an idea had begun to percolate, one my good friend Lindsay had suggested. What if, in an epically romantic gesture, you MET HIM ON TOUR IN EUROPE?!
I could never...
No comments:
Post a Comment