So, in order to celebrate our engagement anniversary (6 years! Woot!), I decided to write out the beginning of my love story with Steve, romantic-historical-fiction style. Here's the first part--enjoy!
A Perfect Beginning
A Love Story
Not-So-Loosely Based on True Events
“So, Jewel, what do
you think of Steve Busch?”
I was surprised at the question, coming as it was from my
roommate, Heather. I considered the
question carefully as I shot a sideways glance at her, sitting cross-legged on
her bed across the room she and I shared.
“Well, I know what you told me from when you liked him last
semester, and he’s really fun to hang out with in acting class, but I haven’t
really thought of him other than that,” I answered, not sure what she was
getting at.
“I think you two would be good together,” she said casually,
turning a page in her book.
“What? Nah, I’m
pretty sure he just talks to me in class because there’s no one else he
knows. Besides, he knows I’m going on a
mission, so I’m as safe as can be. He’s
funny, and I like flirting with him, but…” I shrugged.
“So? You should go
for it. I think he likes you,” she
smiled knowingly.
“Wishful thinking!” I laughed. “Honestly, since word’s gotten out that I’m
putting my papers in, I’ve been asked on more dates in the past two weeks than
I have in the past two years combined! I’m
safe to flirt with now. Nothing more.”
“If he asked you on a date, would you go with him?” She was
more serious now, genuinely wanting an answer from me.
“Sure. If he asked
me, I’d go with him. But I really don’t
see it going anywhere.” I reiterated.
“Okay. That’s all I
needed to know!” She then went back to her studying, still smiling secretively,
as I followed her example and turned back to my biology book, shaking my head
incredulously.
Seriously? Why would my roommate want to set me up with
someone (whom she had previously sort-of dumped, nonetheless) when she knew
that I was specifically not focusing on boys?
In fact, I was more than done with boys for now—after some rough and
very confusing experiences with guys in the previous semesters, I had set two
goals for myself. The first was not to
kiss anyone until after my 21st birthday—an easy enough
accomplishment, seeing as how my birthday was just over a month away and I
didn’t have any interesting prospects….or, at least, prospects interested in
me.
Either way, I knew it wasn’t going to be a temptation to
break that goal.
The second was more permanent—I was for sure not going to marry anyone I had met at
Eastern Arizona College. It was a small
school, and with this being my third year at a two-year college, I felt as
though I had already scouted all of the available options and decided against them
for one valid reason or another; the biggest reason, of course, being the fact
that I was genuinely committed to the idea of going on a mission. I had received some strong answers that this
was what I needed to do come May, when the semester ended, and was in the midst
of working on my papers as we spoke.
An image of Steve flashed through my mind as I considered
the idea of dating him. Tall (a couple
of inches taller than my 5’11” frame, in fact), slender, spiked blonde hair,
clear blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled—he was
good-looking, I’d give him that, but not my type. And I was pretty sure I wasn’t his type at
all—he was smart, quick-witted, interesting, and creative. Me, I was just a tall, klutzy Molly Mormon
who liked to laugh at his jokes but who could never come up with something
clever in response. Definitely not his
type. He was fun to flirt with, nothing
more.
I shook my head again, ridding my mind of his image, and
tried to focus once again on my biology homework.
The next day as I walked into Acting 101, Steve was already
there, smiling at me mischievously.
Trying not to feel awkward about the fact that I had been talking about
him with my roommate the night before, I struggled to remain casual.
“Hey,” I shrugged as I sat down in my normal seat next to
him.
“Hey,” he responded, his smile widening.
“What?” The look on his face made me suddenly feel awkward
and unsure of myself—something I wasn’t used to experiencing around a guy I
usually was so comfortable with (which in itself was nothing less than a
miracle for me, the most consistently awkward female I knew).
“Nothing.” He was
positively grinning now.
“I don’t believe you.
What’s up?” I insisted.
“Okay--don’t be mad, but…”
“What?” I was starting to get curious.
“You have a wilted flower stuck in your hair.” He reached
behind my ear and pulled out the remnants of an orange daisy. One that I had stuck behind my ear earlier in
the day and forgotten about until now.
My face flushed. “Oh,
that. I saw it and thought it was pretty
earlier and, well…”
He laughed—not a mocking laugh, just a genuine expression of
humor. “It’s okay. No worries.”
I smiled at him in relief.
“Don’t think I’m dumb,” I warned.
He smiled in return.
“Of course not! It’s refreshing.”
I flushed again, realizing that if he had known that I had
turned a very enthusiastic cartwheel just before picking said flower, he might
think otherwise. I started to say
something to try to change the subject away from my cartwheel-turning and
flower-picking tendencies, but class started then, and aside from our typical
whispered remarks about what we were learning, we didn’t get the chance for
more conversation until class was over.
As I stood up and picked up my books he came closer to
me. “So,” he began casually, “Young
Ambassadors are coming this Friday.”
I grimaced. “Don’t
remind me. I got asked to go on a date
to it.”
“Oh.” Steve looked a little flustered. “Who asked you?”
“Jarom Mason* (*Name has been changed to protect the
innocent). My old roommate has a major
crush on him, and I know he knows it, so I’m not sure why he asked me in the
first place, except to get to her. I
personally find him super creepy.” I made a face as Steve held the door open
for me.
“So why’d you say yes?” He was genuinely curious, I could
tell.
“Well, I didn’t want to be rude. Besides, any time a guy talks to me, my brain
pretty much shuts down all except for the most basic mental functions.” I grinned up at him as we began walking to
our next class together.
“What about me?” He acted affronted.
“Oh, you don’t count. I’ve always been comfortable around you!” I
nudged him with my shoulder.
“Gee, thanks a lot!”
“Oh, come on. You
know what I mean!” I laughed, but he stopped walking suddenly.
“No, really—you don’t think I count? What if I took you on a date on Saturday
night? Would you be uncomfortable then?”
He insisted.
I stopped, surprised.
“Oh! Well, I’d love to go on a
date with you….if you wanted….I mean…” I stammered.
“Okay, then. Saturday
night it is. And don’t act like you’re
not just going for the free dinner.” He winked at me.
Relieved that he wasn’t genuinely offended by my remarks, I
laughed. As we continued on our way to our next class, I reflected on how
unusual it was for me to feel so absolutely comfortable conversing with a guy
like this; Steve would make witty remarks in his typical fashion, and although
I always felt that my wit in response was usually lacking, he still brought out
the best sides of my conversational skills.
It would definitely be interesting to see what our conversation was like
on our date, that was for sure.
Comments
Anyway, what I'm saying is this is fantastic and I really enjoy the way you've written it as a narrative. Keep writing because I'm eating it up!!
I only know the little bits and pieces I gleaned from your mother about how you and Steve romantically fell in love! :)
Can't wait to get to the part about him making you lots of bacon...oh...and the first kiss! :)
Does Steve give permission for this "tell all"....because you know you're gonna have to tell us everything now right!!? (well...the rated PG version anyways)
I'm so glad you're liking it! And to be honest, I TOTALLY forgot about him cooking me lots of bacon until you mentioned it just now! Hilarious!