Even though his lips seemed fuller than I recalled, they still curved into a familiar grin that oozed confidence. The eyes and that smile were the only traces of the boy I remembered. I wished I could’ve leapt through the screen to smell him, touch him.
“Hi, Landon,” I whispered, for a brief moment talking to the boy inside, not the man in front of me.
This Landon was the polar opposite of the Ivy League yuppie image previously in my head. The only thing the man pictured might have majored in was badassery. He looked like a rockstar, a rule breaker, displaying a sense of arousing danger—someone who must have had women from all walks of life drooling over him for the sheer fact that either they couldn’t have him or shouldn’t have him. It suddenly became clear why, as he’d alluded to, a woman might have been begging him for sex. That made me wonder if he had any secret tattoos in spots I wasn’t allowed to see.
God.
A fire was burning inside of me, and I knew it was my crush exploding into a full-blown obsession.
A self-conscious feeling came over me. If I was scared to show him a picture of myself before, now I was really hesitant.
The message that went along with the photo simply read: Now show me you.
THE VOICE INSIDE MY ASS
I had completely chickened out.
Two days passed, and I never responded to Landon’s photo text. He hadn’t called or messaged me again, either.
This whole thing had ventured into territory I wasn’t prepared for. His wanting to see me felt intrusive, and I had to put a stop to it.
I never expected Landon to want to continue communicating with me after my initial call, and I certainly never expected that seeing what he actually looked like now would have had this kind of an effect on me.
I was afraid to even look at the photo, because I didn’t like the physical feelings that went along with that.
I didn’t want to have to face my attraction to him, this boy—man—who had hurt me once.
Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.
As much as I avoided looking at the picture, the image was still etched into my brain.
As I twirled around during my nightly dance routines, shaking my hips to the beat of the drum, I would close my eyes and see him standing there on the beach. I was dancing for him. Every night. And that really sucked.
On the third night post-selfie, he finally reached out to acknowledge my lack of response.
Landon: You’re giving me a complex.
He couldn’t have been serious. Surely, he realized how physically attractive he was. But what if he really did think I stopped communicating with him because of how he looked? After all, he wasn’t classically handsome; he was covered in ink and rugged. Maybe he thought I wasn’t into that? He couldn’t have been more wrong. In fact, I was terrified of what looking at him did to me. By the same token, I didn’t want to admit to him that my apprehension had everything to do with me, not him. It was too complicated to explain why I was afraid to show him what I looked like.
As much as I didn’t want this thing with him going any further, I couldn’t live with the thought that he somehow believed I’d stopped communicating with him because of his appearance.
So, I decided to send him one last text—just to clarify.
Rana: Honestly, you have no reason to feel self-conscious. You have grown into a beautiful man, Landon. I just cannot reciprocate with a photo as you requested.
About thirty seconds after I hit send, my phone rang.
Shit.
I answered, “Hello…”
“Did I freak you out or something? You don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to.”
“It’s nothing you did. I just have a lot of issues about my physical appearance. It’s my problem.”
“I don’t get it. You shake your ass around in public for a living.”
Yeah…but they didn’t know me before like you did.
“It’s complicated.”
“Alright, you know what? Please, forget I sent the picture. It created way more trouble than I anticipated.”
I can’t forget it. I can’t forget what you look like now that I’ve seen you.
We were both silent until he said, “Don’t stop talking to me, Rana.” His sincere tone squeezed at my heart.
“Why is it so important to you?”
“I can’t figure it out. You make me feel grounded or something. I don’t know. Talking to you has been like a little slice of home, or at least what I once thought of as home. But I apparently crossed the line in pushing you for a photo, and I’m sorry.”
I could feel myself starting to tear up. “God, don’t be. It’s my fault, Landon. I overreacted. I’m so flawed.”
“Yeah, well, so are some of the most beautiful diamonds. There’s nothing wrong with having flaws. They’re what make us human.”
Bending my head back, I took a deep breath and let his words sink in. Somehow, I knew I would never forget them as long as I lived. As I wiped my eyes, I sniffled. “It looks really beautiful where you live.”
“It is. I’d ask you to come visit, but I’m afraid you’d never speak to me again.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re probably right.”
“So, fucking stay away from me, then. Just don’t stop answering my calls.” He laughed. “Seriously, though, yeah, it’s alright living by the ocean.”
“Just alright?” I chuckled. “Well, anyway, I’m envious.”
“What’s the weather like right now in Michigan?”
“Cold and miserable.”
“Speaking of miserable…any Lenny shenanigans to report?”
“Aside from his randomly snapping a picture of me when he thought I wasn’t looking? No.”
“That dude is a freak.”
“He’s actually away for a couple of days. At least, I think so. I saw him leave with a suitcase. He’s gone away before. He always comes back, unfortunately.”
“You should search his room, see if there’s any merit to your fears.”
“It smells like feet in there. I think I’ll take my chances.”
“If you won’t send me a photo of yourself, at least promise the next time you catch him sleeping with the crotch of your leggings on his face, you’ll snap a picture of that shit for me.”
“You got it.”
After our laughter dissipated, he let out a deep sigh into the phone, and it was as if I felt it on my skin. It got me thinking about his sexy photograph again and prompted me to ask, “How many tattoos do you have?”
“I haven’t counted. A lot.”
“They’re really gorgeous.”
You’re really gorgeous, Landon.
“Thank you.”
“So…you said you’re a chef, but you never told me what kind of food you specialize in.”
“Actually, I own a food truck. I make mostly unique sandwiches, stuff you can’t find at typical restaurants.”
“That’s really cool. Where do you have it set up?”
“Different places. I park it on the beach a lot. But I have an app where people can track where I am at any given time. I’ll send you the link so you can check it out.”
“An app? That’s so innovative.”
“Yeah. It’s called Landon’s Lunch Box—the truck and the app.”
“Cute name. Are you a one-man band?”
“Actually, no. I have one employee…Melanie.”
Melanie.
I knew nothing about her but envied her, nevertheless. My unwanted jealousy toward Valeria and Melanie was very disturbing to me.