“That’s just because you’re used to arguing with me.”
“Yes. Exactly. First dates are like a job interview. It’s about putting your best foot forward, not arguing and speaking your mind.”
“Well, I’ve never interviewed for a job, but I can’t think of anything better than Jessica James speaking her mind.”
I shook my head at him, narrowing my eyes suspiciously. “That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair?”
“You’re saying all the right things. Whereas I’m being completely honest.”
He challenged lightly, “What makes you think these right things I’m saying isn’t me being completely honest?”
I blinked, then stared at him, at his profile. My heart sped at his last words and my breath seemed to catch. Pinpricks of awareness covered my skin accompanied by a nervous uncertainty. I averted my eyes back to the windshield and stared unseeingly forward.
Did I want to kiss the hell out of him? Yes, I did.
Did I want to wrap his banana and let him have his way with my coconuts? Yes. I wanted that to happen.
Did I want him to say all the right things, with sincerity, revealing his hidden depths (as well as a few of mine)?
…
…
…
I honestly had no idea.
On one hand, yes. Yes. YES! This Duane was sweet and sincere, generous and wonderful, funny and sexy. I’d known him forever, we had history. I’d thought the history would hinder a relationship between us, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Our history only added to this growing connection, provided gravity of feeling and understanding. What more could I want? What more could I ask for?
On the other hand, no. No. NO! Duane had roots. Subterranean, cavernous roots. He was a local business owner, he had a big family. I couldn’t imagine him ever leaving Tennessee. This was his home, and home was a physical place for him.
But Green Valley wasn’t where I belonged. I’d known I would never stay my whole life.
Regardless, I was moving deeper without meaning to, wading out of my shallow pool. And this was only our first date, a date that hadn’t even technically started yet.
At some point I was going to have to tell him I had plans and those plans meant I would be leaving. Eventually. Definitely.
I needed to be honest…but not yet.
***
Cooper Road Trail was definitely an off-the-beaten-path kind of park. Duane’s was the only car in the lot when we pulled in. I knew of this locale mostly because my momma loved to hike the trail in June, when the orange and yellow daylilies bloomed along the path. The summer air smelled sweet and warm, and was alive with buzzing bees and rushing water from nearby waterfalls.
It was a first come, first served kind of place, no camping reservations accepted. It was also exceedingly difficult to find if you weren’t a longtime citizen of the Valley. The campsite was small, verging on cramped, and had roughly ten or so spots; five of those spots were on a shallow and relatively wide clear-water stream, typical for the area.
When we arrived and Duane pulled a mountaineering backpack from his trunk, along with a big basket hamper, I abruptly remembered I’d left the beer in the refrigerator at home.
“Oh, shoot!” I grimaced, rubbing my forehead.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was in such a rush to escape my brother I forgot our drinks at the house.”
Duane shrugged. “No problem. I have water in the bag.”
I stepped forward and moved to take the basket from his hands. “Do you have anything other than water?”
“No. Just water.”
“Oh. Okay.” My heart sank a little. It was the one thing I was supposed to bring and I’d forgotten. Even though he appeared to shrug it off, I felt like I’d let him down.
As we walked together past the campsites and to the hiking trail, making small talk about the park, I tried to similarly shrug off my forgetfulness. I didn’t like taking advantage and I didn’t like letting him down. And, though it was irrational, I hated looking like a flake.
I didn’t mind if people thought I was silly-slash-weirdo, cross-dressing sexy Gandalf, but I couldn’t abide anyone thinking I was unreliable. Because I wasn’t, I was trustworthy and took my responsibilities very seriously.
While I was still chastising myself, Duane led me off the path when we were about a quarter mile down the trail. I was thankful I’d worn my hiking boots because we had to splash through some wet areas and slippery rocks. Duane was careful to take my hand and plot out the driest course each time. His chivalry, care, and attention contributed to my mounting appreciation, and left me feeling tongue-tied and flushed.
I finally let go of kicking myself for being forgetful when I noticed Duane’s chivalry was increasingly tempered with reluctant and distracted moments of ogling.