True L̶o̶v̶e̶ Story (4 page)

In that gesture, I feel my childhood slip off of me like an old, worn-out cloak that has been barely hanging by a single thread. I know that something has shifted in me. It’s primal. I want this man.

I smile at him. He continues to grip my hand and leans around to see Michael. “Michael, I’m heading out. Take good care of this girl here.”

And with that, he stands up and leaves. I watch him walk past the window. He looks like he just lost his best friend.

What I didn’t tell Ian about seeing him the first time was that I cried the whole time he played. I had never heard anything so beautiful. I found his name on a program and thought it fit him perfectly. When I got home, I took out my journal titled
Important Things that Happened in my 14th Year
and wrote: I Saw Ian Sterling.

I’ve been looking for him ever since.

- 3 -

The hazy stupor of meeting Ian Sterling hovers over me all day. Playing and replaying every touch, every inflection and every word spoken, I come up with various theories on what it could really mean. My crazy mind plays a serious contradiction game with itself that goes a little something like this:

I think Ian Sterling fell for me today.

There is no way that Ian Sterling feels anything real for me.

I fell for him at first sight four years ago.

Of course, I don’t believe in love at first sight.

Okay, if not love at first sight, then I fell in love with him today, when we spoke … when he took my hand in his.

That was pure lust, not to be confused with love.

I’ve never felt like this.

I’m young and don’t know what I’m feeling.

I’m not an idiot; I know my own mind better than anyone.

He is a master flirt and it was meaningless.

I think I rocked his world.

I hate it when I do the girl thing. I’m sure Ian left lunch this afternoon and didn’t give me another thought. Why can’t I be like that?

Serious time with Tessa is what I need. She’s been my best friend since we were nine and knows me better than anyone. I texted her after we left the restaurant that I’d met Ian Sterling and she flipped, but I haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet. As far as I know, she’s the only one who isn’t completely gung-ho on Michael. I can’t get a straight answer on anything she doesn’t like about him, only that she doesn’t think he’s the one for me.

And Michael … I have a half hour before he picks me up for our date, and all I can think about is Ian. I have to pull myself together. Michael is perfect. Really, he is. My parents say it all the time. The guy is stinkin’ hilarious. He can pull out a random line from any movie and do all the voices. He kills me every time with that bit. And I know this is not everything, but he
was
the best looking guy I’d ever seen … until I saw Ian up close and personal.

I think I might be in trouble. Everything about Ian does it for me. Sexiness oozes around him like vapors, tugging me into his aura and making me want to do all sorts of naughty things. He is in a whole other bracket as far as his looks. I feel bad for even thinking it, but in
every
area … well … he makes Michael look somewhat homely in comparison.

I am a hideous, hideous human being.

The things that came out of his mouth; he’s so irreverent. I’m not used to people saying exactly what they think. Filtered talk is as popular as filtered water these days. More than all this, though, that hour with him made me feel more alive—more awake—than I have ever felt. I realize heart poundage does not a relationship make, but land sakes, feeling alive sure is worthy.

“Spaaaaarrrow! Miiiichael’s here!” My mom calls.

“I’ll be right down,” I yell back.

I slip on my shoes and grab a light jacket. The City always cools down at night.

Michael looks swoon worthy in his suit. I take it back about him being anything near homely. He’s not at all.

My gut twinges guiltily as I think about how
Ian
would look in that suit.

The drive goes by quickly as we speed and sing along with the radio. The lighthearted mood changes a bit once we get to the restaurant. I’ve done fairly well not obsessing about Ian, but it is taking considerable effort. Michael seems more serious than usual as we’re seated at a beautiful, candlelit table, overlooking the ocean. There are roses at the table and when I look at them closer, I see a little card with my name on it.

“Michael! You did this?”

He grins and for a moment, I think I’ve misjudged his seriousness. He kisses my cheek and tells me I’m pretty.

“The flowers are gorgeous! Thank you!”

I open the card and it says,

For an unforgettable night with an unforgettable girl.

Yours forever, Michael

I hug him. I don’t deserve any of this sweetness from Michael after practically ripping all Ian’s clothes off—I know it was only in my mind, but they say it’s what’s in the heart that matters.

Who said that anyway? Oh yeah, the Bible.

“That’s so sweet. I can’t believe you.”

“Well, I have big plans for tonight, so get ready,” he smiles at me.

“What plans? Flowers? A swanky restaurant? What are you up to?” I smile back at him.

He laughs and locks his lips, throwing away the key.

Maybe I don’t need to be all awakened anyway, when I have such a thoughtful guy in front of me.

To be honest, I’ve been really nervous about what leaving will mean for Michael and me. We’ve barely talked about it, but for the last couple of weeks, I feel the cloud hanging over both of us. I will really miss him. Skype, texting, and talking on the phone all the time—not my idea of a fun relationship. He’s promised to come see me and I will try to fly home for the longer breaks.

I look out the window and get lost in the water. Give me the ocean and it’s the equivalent of a yoga class or meditating in India … not that I’ve ever done either of those things. Wherever people go to find peace—that’s what I find in the ocean. Hopefully, I’ll find a favorite beach out east.

Michael clears his throat and startles me. I turn and watch him fiddle with his tie.

“So today was interesting,” he says.

“Yes, it was. Did you like Jeff? He’s nice, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he really is. I liked him a lot.”

I pick up my menu and slowly read through it. A minute or five ticks by and when I look up, Michael is still watching me.

“What is it?”

“Ian Sterling sure was into you.”

My face goes hot. “He was just being friendly.”

“Yes,
very
friendly,” he mutters.

I look at my menu again and am torn between being ecstatic about Ian, while also feeling bad that Michael was there to witness it. I thought he was too engrossed in conversation with Jeff to notice. I wonder how much he heard. How would I feel if he talked to another girl like that with me sitting right there? And even if he didn’t hear anything, he
must
have noticed how we looked at each other.

The more I think about it, the more awful I feel. I know now that I didn’t imagine the
entire
thing with Ian. Who knows? It might be the way he talks to every female, but I should have shut him down. It was just such an unexpected thrill.
Ian Sterling
, for crying out loud.

Michael takes my hand and his eyes are intense. “You’re so beautiful. Any man would be crazy not to want you.”

I seize the napkin in my lap and suddenly fold it into square after square until it’s too tight to fold another. My own shame is threatening to swallow me up. Michael looks pensive. I’m afraid to know what he’s thinking.

The waitress comes and we order. The sunset gradually takes over our conversation; it’s spectacular. There is nothing like watching the sun disappear into the water. Michael relaxes more and more. Soon I find myself doing the same. The anxiousness melts away, and I’m happy to be here with him. I’m happy he doesn’t bring up Ian again.

The sea lions are making a racket on the wharf below. Sea gulls swoop around the sea lions, teasing them with their catch of the day. Our food arrives and the steak and scallops are delicious. I eat every bite.

We’re sharing a chocolate soufflé when Michael goes serious on me again. It’s hard for me to concentrate on anything but the chocolate. I am passionate about good food and this is perfection: warm cake with a gooey chocolate center and two chocolate sauces on the side. I pour another dollop of the dark chocolate sauce over my last bite and moan—it’s that good. I wish I hadn’t agreed to share. Why did I do that? Maybe we can order another…

As soon as I set my spoon down, Michael takes both of my hands. “I want to talk to you about something.”

I take a deep breath, and Ian flashes through my brain. Chocolate and Ian. And Ian with chocolate. Ian and me and chocolate…

“Sparrow?”

I blink and Michael swims into focus. Dang, I’m hopeless. I
will
get Ian out of my mind and focus on my boyfriend.

“You know I’m in love with you, right, Ro? I have been since I first laid eyes on you a year ago. Being with you the last several months has been the best time of my life.” He reaches down and kisses my hand. He looks up at me with those crinkly, smiling eyes, and I can’t help but smile back at him. He’s so sweet. “I thought we would wait—I know we’re young—but I can’t wait. I
know
that I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”

My inner brakes screech and my eyes bug out. What did he just say?

Michael continues, completely unaware that I’m beginning to panic. He is as somber as the guy on the commercials about erectile dysfunction.

“I’ve already spoken to your parents, and they’ve given me their full approval.” Michael reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box and sets it on the table.

I begin to choke. No, really, I lose all breath and cannot get it back. Michael’s loving expression turns into fear as he realizes that my gagging is not stopping. He stands up and pounds on my back. I’ve heard that pounding on the back is not really what you’re supposed to do when someone is choking, but it seems to knock some sense into me and I heave a breath that finally works.

“Are you all right?” Michael stands beside me and grabs my water glass. He looks so concerned; I want to cry.

I take a sip of water and concentrate on breathing.

Michael returns to his seat and tentatively takes my hands again.

“We’ll have quite a story to tell our children,” he attempts to joke, but it hangs in the air, flat.

“What do you say, Sparrow? Will you marry me?”

He has guts; I’ll give him that. Apparently, I was wrong about the patience.

He opens the ring box, and I stare at the gorgeous solitaire. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I’m in shock.

A scene flashes through my head of me at eighty, mouth still hanging open and the nurse at the nursing home talking about me like I’m not there— “She hasn’t spoken for over sixty years!”

Going silent would certainly help keep me out of trouble. I wonder if my brain would keep functioning fully, though, if I went that long without speaking … that would be really hard.

After we sit there, looking at each other for an eternity, Michael finally says, “I’ve freaked you out, haven’t I.”

Uh yeah
, I think. But the words still don’t come out. I also think,
What the hell?
But my mama taught me to
not
think things like that. So I’m conflicted, you see.

“Say something, Ro. Anything,” Michael urges.

I take another drink of water and finally put my head in my hands. Michael is saying something, but I’m not even hearing him. I just want to go home. This day needs to be done. It’s too much.

He clutches my arms and I lift my eyes to meet his.

“Michael…” I croak.

“Sparrow, just think about it…”

“Michael, what? I’m
eighteen
!” I shake my head at him.

“You’ll be nineteen before too long. Both our parents were married at nineteen. Look how they’ve made it. My parents only dated for six weeks and they just knew. I feel that way about you … we just fit.” His voice fades at the end.

He looks at me and wills me to say something.

“I did not see this coming, Michael. I don’t even know what to say. I’m going to NYU in a few weeks. I want to be able to concentrate on school and…”

“You can still do all of that. We’d just be
engaged
while you do that. Maybe get married in the summer? You’ll be going on twenty by then. And you could transfer to Stanford or Berkeley next year…” He gives his most charming smile, the one that usually wins me over.

“Michael,” I say sadly. “If I wanted to go to Stanford or Berkeley, I would have. I don’t want to go to New York thinking about how soon I can get out of there.” I cannot
believe
he is doing this right now. “Four months. We’ve dated
four months
. That’s not enough time to know. Besides, you knew about New York
before
we started dating.”