He walks over to me as I open the app and click on the inbox. “Steve?” he asks, his nose crinkling.
“What’s wrong with Steve?”
“Nothing, just not a very cool name,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.
“Well, not everyone can be a Jensen,” I tease.
“Damn right, they can’t.” He smirks.
I open Steve’s message and Jensen leans in close to read with me. A little too close. I can smell him, and I like the way he smells. Spicy and clean. Shut up, Harper.
Steve: Hey :)
6
Jensen
“Hey, with a smiley face?” I laugh.
“What’s wrong with that?” Harper asks.
“You can’t be serious,” I say.
She shrugs her shoulders and messages the guy back. Actually messages the guy back, if you can believe it.
“I have to get some practice in, anyway. Even if he isn’t a winner,” she says.
Practice? What kind of practice is she talking about? I study her face for a few minutes as she navigates back to the screen where you scroll through people. “Practice?” I decide to ask.
“It’s your turn, I think,” she says, clearly trying to detract from my question.
“In high school, I had a crush on the most popular girl in school. I mean, she was the prom queen and everything. Her boyfriend didn’t like it too much, not that I was a threat. He broke into the band room and wrecked my saxophone. My guitar too,” I say.
“You weren’t popular in high school?” she asks, her tone giving the impression she’s a little shocked.
“Not exactly. Unless band kids who don’t play any sports and go to college still as virgins are what you’d call popular,” I say, laughing.
Harper’s face is sheer shock at this point. “I never would’ve guessed.”
“I guess you could say a lot changed my freshman year of college.” I think back to when I met the few decent popular guys I did, and how they helped me bloom. I put some weight on, which filled out my tall frame. Then I learned how to dress, talk to people, and be more confident in myself.
“I was prom queen,” she says, cutting into my thoughts.
I look Harper up and down, taking in her petite frame, golden hair, and overall demeanor. “I can see that.”
She looks down at her feet, as if my words have bothered her. “You wanna go sit out on the porch?”
I nod, following her out to the swing we’d sat on the previous day. “Wow, look at that sky. You’d never see a sky like that in Boston or another big city.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Harper says.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve been looking at the same sky my whole life. I don’t know any other skies.”
I think about that for a few minutes, leaning back against the porch swing and listening to it sway.
“When I said I needed to practice earlier?” she says.
Here it comes. “Yeah?” I ask, turning to give her my full attention.
“I meant I was with Charles since high school and I’ve never dated anyone else.”
I blink at her several times, processing what she just said. “Wait, wait, wait. Let me see if I have this straight. You? Have only been with one man? Your entire life?” I ask, punctuating my statement to give it the necessary emphasis to portray my bewilderment.
“That’s correct,” she says.
“A man named Charles?”
“Yes,” she says.
“So, let me see if I have this. You divorced a man named Charles and you’re gonna practice dating with a guy named Steve? Because you’ve only been with one guy ever. And you basically have to learn how to like…do what we’re doing now?” I ask, looking at her quizzically.
“Well, I mean I guess,” she says.
“Why don’t you just practice with me?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Look, I’m your wedding date anyway. Let’s get to know each other. Be friends. Have conversations. Spend time together. That’s what dating is.”
“And the sex?” she asks.
I nearly choke on nothing at all. “Sex?”
“People who are dating have sex. Surely you don’t expect me to—”
“God, no,” I say.
Harper pulls her head back, my knee jerk reaction sounding a little offensive.
I have to recover. “No, wait. That sounds wrong. Look, don’t get me wrong. You’re a beautiful woman, truly. But maybe given the circumstances, we practice the non-sexual dating components. Then when I leave, you’ll be ready to date with sexual components maybe?” I offer, holding my hand out for her to shake.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” she says.
“Probably.”
Harper reaches out, and I take her hand so we can shake on it. “Yeah, sure. Why not? What could possibly go wrong?” She laughs.
“Great. In the meantime, keep the app. Maybe it’ll help you with your flirting skills or something.” I laugh and stand.
“I know how to flirt,” she says.
“Okay, then. Hit on me,” I challenge.
“What?” she says.
“Come on. Stand up and hit on me,” I say, ushering her to me. I stand square in front of her and watch as she stares down at our feet, wringing out her hands so hard I fear she may start rubbing off her skin.
“Um, okay. Maybe I don’t know how to flirt. But I don’t flirt anyway, right? The guy does. I just stand there and take it,” she says.
Oh dear. This is far worse than I imagined. I didn’t know it was possible to be this clueless as to how to interact with the opposite sex. “Um, no. There was this whole feminist movement. You guys are allowed to hit on us now too,” I joke.
“Well, laughing at me isn’t gonna help,” she says, sitting back down.
“I’m not, okay? Stand back up.”
Harper stands and I usher her forward, guiding her by the small of her back until she’s standing much closer to me. She’s just a whisper away from pressing her entire front side against mine.
“Proximity is everything,” I say. “Now, tell me you had a nice time.”
“What?”
“Pretend it’s the end of a date—our grilled cheese pickle date. Pretend you’re interested in seeing me again, and right before you walk into your place, you’re gonna tell me you had a really nice time in such a way that I’m definitely gonna want to whip out my phone and hit you up for a second date.”
Harper swallows, clearly unsure how she should proceed.
“Do you want me to show you? And then you can think about it and practice later?” I ask.
“Okay,” she says.
I bend down slightly, bringing my face close to hers so our cheeks are almost touching. I blow my breath against her neck and ear as I exhale slowly. My fingers reach for hers and I lace them together, playing with them. “I had a really great time tonight, Harper,” I say, letting her name fall from my mouth slowly, every letter getting time on my lips. I pull away slowly, letting more of my breath tickle her cheek.