Page 35 of This I Promise You
“Uh…hi?” He squints at me in confusion.
“Yeah, hey. Uh…my car won’t start.” It sounds so pathetic as the words roll awkwardly off my tongue. “Think I left the interior light on. You wouldn’t maybe jump-start me, would you? I have the cables.”
A smile creeps across Paul’s face and he shakes his head. “Oh, well I might require some sort of compensation for saving your ass twice now.”
“Excuse me? I’m not a whore.” What the hell? I thought we’d just got done establishing hemightnot be a total dick, and then this. “I’ll just—”
“Stop! Just stop.” Paul holds his hand up, obviously restraining his temper. His words come deliberately and slowly. “I only meant… Listen, they are having a poetry slam tomorrow night at Uptown Slam. Join me?”
“Oh…” I want to cave in on myself and cease to exist. “Sorry. So that’s it? Go to this poetry thing with you, and you’ll jump-start my car?”
“You got it!” He nods and shrugs.
“So you won’t if I don’t promise to go?” I ask. I can’t say I really want to go to a poetry slam. Don’t get me wrong, I like poetry, but it’s sure to be a bunch of locals.
“So perceptive of you.”
“You wouldn’t leave me stranded here.” I let my mouth pooch and tilt my head knowingly.
“The fuck I wouldn’t. Try me.” And with that his car starts moving forward and his window buzzes upward.
“Okay, okay! Fine.” I wave my hands in a panic. Like seriously, man! “I’ll go with you to your poetry thing. Fine!”
“Cool. Then just call me your knight in shining armor. Again.”
“I think I hate you,” I say, but I can’t hold back the grin that swallows my face whole. How is he so hot and annoying at the same time?
Paul grins and rolls his eyes. “The feeling’s mutual.”
Paul
Love Is…
What the fuck did I do?
I haven’t been on a date in two years. I haven’t so much as looked at another guy since…whatever. Then Easton’s friend—I still can’t remember his name—and now Easton. I’ve done too much. I thought this might be a cute idea. I already planned on coming to the poetry slam. There’s a piece I want to test on an audience. Inviting Easton though? I shouldn’t have done that. I’m in way over my head. But I’m here now and I just gotta get through this.
Outside of my anxiety, it hasn’t been all that bad. Dinner was awkward. It wasn’t easy conversation like last night at Waffle House. Yesterday was so nice. It was really nice, but this is torture. How are our interactions so all over the fucking place like this?
It’s probably me. It’s always me. I don’t know how to human.
And Easton’s already had two drinks since we got to Uptown Slam. I bought them, even though he protested at first. I’ve paid for everything tonight. It was my idea, so I gotta pay and I wanna be nice, but I’m not made of money either. I’m going to need a job soon. But I just really wanna show that I’m a nice guy. Because I am.
Easton said he was going to the bathroom and came back with a third drink and I don’t even know how he got it. Now I feel like he actually hates thismorethan I hate the anxiety this bullshit is causing me. I justreallyhope we don’t have a repeat of him puking in my car again.
If I open my mouth right now, I might throw up. So I chicken out on my performance as we’ve just been sitting here…not talking.
We’re side by side facing the small stage. Easton finishes his drink, gets up to throw it away in between acts, then comes back and leans into me. Just shoulder to shoulder, but I immediately go stiff.
PDA has never been my thing. When I was a kid we did a project in class involving our initials. My full name is Paul Donavan Acre…PDA. I never lived it down until graduation day when I could fuck off. Like it was my fault. Like I picked my own name. It’s not like my initials spelled out TIT or STD or some shit. PDA for initials is mild, in my opinion. I actually like my name, but I was still the butt of everyone’s joke because of it. So I put off displaying public affection at all for fear of further scrutiny. Years of bullying and anxiety don’t go well together. It’s like mixing Coke and Mentos. I’m the explosive foam that follows.
So Easton leaning into me sets me off a little. But I suppress it as best I can because I really don’t want to mess this up. I mean, come on. This is our first unofficial date, it’s awkward as hell, Easton’s on his way to being shit-faced again, and I have pit stains from anxiety. I doubt this’ll ever happen again.
Do I want it to happen again?
What the fuck did I do?
“Did you understand anything that guy was talking about?” Easton leans over and asks me as the crowd snaps and the dude walks off stage, Easton’s hand on my forearm.
