If I was your boyfriend (part 3).

I had mad respect for that. I went the entire year thinking this guy didn’t like me, or that he just wanted to hook up, when really, he was trying to work things out on his end.

Now, he lives in a house with two roommates and got a promotion, so he’s not waiting tables anymore.

After a few days of light flirting, we were talking nearly all day everyday. Late the next Friday night, he was telling me how much he wished I would have come in to see him at work. On his drive home, he asked me if I would come over, right then.

Against all things my brain was telling me, I got in my car and drove to his house at 4 am.

He was better looking than I recalled, standing in his doorway, still in his work attire. I was in sweats and still wearing my mouth guard.

“There you are,” he said as I walked into his living room, grabbing my waist when I walked by. We talked briefly before going into his bedroom, where I flopped onto the bed, exhausted.

“I need to know something,” he said. “Why did you text me on Valentine’s Day? And please be honest with me.”

I told him the whole story and he kissed me. And it was a better kiss than I remember.

The following Sunday night, he came to my apartment to hang out. Sitting on my couch, he told me he needed to make sure I wasn’t leading him on, because he was starting to really like me. I was a little worried that it was moving fast, but I went with it. That same day, the Sunday of the Oscars, marked one year since we met. He invited me over to his house for the next day, what would be a year since our first date.

I happily said yes, but only if he’d watch The Bachelor with me. He said he would DVR it.

On the way to his house I stopped by a local grocery store to pick up a bottle of wine to bring over. Mid-search, the power went out, sending cursed cries into the dark. I wandered through the aisles, as if there was a way I could feel a bottle that would taste good. Minutes later, when the lights came back on, I was standing in front of a tower of white boxes, with wine inside. I reached down to see what kind it was.

The Prisoner.

The exact wine we drank exactly one year prior. Despite its steep price, I decided to go for it. When I arrived at D’s, I told him I had a surprise. I pulled out the wine, and he couldn’t believe it. “Whaaaaat!? Are you kidding me?” he asked. So there we were, sipping on our wine, watching The Bachelor.

And it felt perfect.

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2 thoughts on “If I was your boyfriend (part 3).

  1. Ah you didn’t tell me about the wine! So perfect!

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