Chapter 7
I’ve been a wreck all day. I mean, I’ve been productive, kicking ass on the #coolNerd project. But I’ve also been singing at the top of my lungs, shaking my butt to my music turned up way too loud and randomly stopping and replaying every word Mitch has ever said to me, every look he’s given me and every feeling I’ve had since I met him three days ago. It’s preposterous that I’m this mesmerized in such short a time, but I guess stuff like this really happens.
I didn’t really get a chance to greet him when he arrived for Van’s Thursday lesson. Van ran to the door, sliding along the hardwood in his socks, and answered it right after the first ring.
Mitch said a hasty “Hi, Posey” as he passed by my studio door and went upstairs for Van’s lesson. I scooted over to the door just in time to respond with a “Hey, Mitch” and get a peek at his very attractive ass as he ascended the stairs after Van, who was chattering like a squirrel.
Returning to my work, I realize I’ve been staring at the same font for ten minutes trying to make a decision, and give up. I can’t concentrate hearing the rich calmness of his voice as he instructs Van. Knowing Mitch is in my house. Right above me.
It’s time to make dinner anyway. Spaghetti Thursday.
The music upstairs stops and I check my watch. The lesson is over. When I look up, Van slides onto one of the stools at the kitchen island.
“Mom, Mitch is staying for dinner, OK?” Mitch enters a half second later.
“Hey, Van, buddy, what are you doing? I didn’t—”
Van spins on the stool to face Mitch. “You said it smelled good and talked about how hungry you were.”
Mitch’s face immediately turns pink. “Yeah, but I didn’t mean—”
I clear my throat. “Mitch, it’s fine. I was going to invite you to stay before Van even said anything.”
“Thank you. You know you don’t have to feed me every time I come over.”
I smile and then laugh. It feels good. To smile. To laugh without thinking about it first or forcing it. “I know, but we have plenty of spaghetti and your lessons bump up against dinnertime.” I mentally add, I couldn’t wait to see you and talk to you again.
Did I really say “bump up against” in a sentence?
Mitch sets his instrument and music down on the floor. “Well, thank you again.” He sits on the stool next to Van and leans his chin on his hands, observing me as I brown the hamburger for the meat sauce. “Hey, I noticed when I walked by your office before that you got a haircut. It looks really great.”
I look down and rub the naked back of my neck. “Thank you. I’m getting used to it.” I’m probably bright pink now, too.
“It looks great on you.”
I’m not used to this much attention and turn away, flustered. I walk into the hall and say, “Shane, it’s almost dinnertime. Come get out the plates and silverware.”
Shane groans from his room, “Just a sec, Mom. I’m about to win this race.”
Mitch whispers to Van, “Must be playing Mario Kart, huh, buddy?” Then he stands up and walks into the kitchen. “Let’s help your mom get the dishes out so Shane can cross the finish line.”
Impressive.
He does the same after dinner. “Guys, go ahead and play your game. I’ll help your mom clean up.”
“Mitch—” Once again I protest.
“Posey.” Mitch says in counterprotest. And without another word, we clean the kitchen. I’m struck by how smoothly we work together, clearing dishes, him rinsing, me filling the dishwasher.
I ask Mitch about his work and am not surprised to hear, like most people in their twenties, he has more than one job. Besides giving guitar lessons, he substitute teaches and does some session work for local musicians.
“What do you do, Posey? I mean I know you work from home.”
“I work for Two-Shot, and I only work from home two days a week. They just happen to be the days of Van’s lessons.”
“The graphics company?”
“You know it?”
“Yeah, my friend uses them for some stuff. What do you do?”
“I’m a graphic artist.” I bite my lip. I’m supposed to keep the #coolNerd account to myself. I signed a nondisclosure and everything, but I’m going to take a chance. “Do you want to see what I’m working on?”
“Absolutely!”
He is actually interested in my work. I have to say, Donovan was supportive but never seemed truly interested. I throw down the dish towel after wiping my hands and tilt my head toward the hall.
I’m about to open the door, but before I do, I turn back to Mitch with a very serious expression. “You cannot, under any circumstances, tell anyone I showed you this.”
Mitch kisses two fingers on his right hand and crosses his heart. It’s adorable.
I slowly open the door. “Come on in.” Mitch is only inches behind me. I feel his breath. The little hairs on my neck and shoulders and arms stand on end.
“Wow! This is so cool!” Mitch walks around my office, looking at the framed album art and concert posters from some of the work I’ve done in the past. He stops, mouth agape, in front of one of the covers with a platinum record framed alongside it. “Is this Boxwood?”
“Yep.” I stand next to Mitch, our upper arms almost touching, and look at the artwork.
Mitch points to the wall. “This is their first album. The one that was on the charts for like three years.”
“Uh-huh.” I’m purposely trying to play it cool, but inside my heart is slamming against my chest and my thoughts have gone fuzzy.
“And you did the artwork?”
“I was on the team that did it, yes, where I used to work in St. Louis.”
“That is so awesome.” Mitch turns to me while I continue to look at the picture. I’m beginning to anticipate and crave the electricity zapping between us when we’re close. “Have you met them?”
I turn and look up at him. “Yes, I have.” I refrain from telling Mitch that I knew Boxwood because the lead singer was the best friend of a victim Donovan had saved. That story is for another time. When we know each other better. When we know each other better? Am I really projecting into the future? “Let me show you something.” I gesture to my drafting table. All my #coolNerd work is right out in the open.
Mitch’s eyes jump around the table. “#coolNerd? You’re doing the artwork for #coolNerd? I knew they had a new album coming out, but this is amazing. You are amazing.”
I blush and stutter, “Th-Thank you.” Professionally, I have received positive feedback, but never such effusive praise.
“Sorry. I guess that wasn’t really smooth, huh?”
“No, it was nice.”
“Well, I’m not taking it back. I’m really impressed. You’re so talented.” He’s so free with his feelings. It’s refreshing.
I say thank you again and explain my process. “I’m really inspired by music. Do you want to hear their new album?”
“You have it?”
“I do. Sid Cooper gave it to my boss who gave it to me to help me get the vibe for the artwork.”
Mitch looks at the floor and shakes his head in disbelief.
I pull out my phone and grab my earbuds from the table. I plug them in and then hand one of the buds to Mitch. He moves closer to put it in his ear, while I put the other in mine.
“This is going to be the first single released, ‘You Are My New Home.’” I start the song.
Mitch immediately closes his eyes and gently moves his head from side to side to the lyrical ballad.
I gaze at him. His lips purse. He’s so close. He smells so good. I’d forgotten what it’s like to be close to someone. I close my eyes, trying to absorb it all.
Without a word, Mitch slips his arms around my waist and I let him. I reach up, awkward and unsure, and put my hands stiffly on his shoulders. We dance.
Even though every atom in every cell of my body is vibrating at light speed, dancing with Mitch is at the same time easy and comfortable. He begins humming along to the song with perfect pitch.
The song ends, and when I open my eyes, his are open, too, and he’s staring down at me.
“Beautiful,” he whispers.
Is he commenting on the song or me?
He slowly cups the back of my head with his entire hand and strokes my hair with his thumb.
“Uh.” I exhale quickly.
He pulls away slightly, but not before he runs the back of his fingers down the back and then side of my neck.
I shiver from the top of my head down to my toes. We are still connected to the earbuds.
“I’m sorry, that was forward,” he whispers while his face moves closer to mine.
He… he’s going to kiss me.
“Nuh… no, it’s fine.” I’m going to let him kiss me…
“Moooommmm!” Loud voices and footsteps thundering down the hall kill the moment.
Mitch and I jump away from each other like we’re dodging a moving vehicle. The earbuds yank out of our ears and we both wince.
“Ow!” we both say and retreat to opposite sides of the drafting table.
Van and Shane charge into the room, oblivious. “Can we watch a movie?” They look at me, and then Mitch. Still clueless. Good.
“What time is it? It’s a school night,” I ask and state in rapid succession, trying to gather my thoughts and interact appropriately.
Shane looks at his phone, holds it up for me to see and makes an exasperated face. “It’s only seven thirty”
“Uhm, OK, a short one.”
“Yeah, I’ve got to go.” Mitch steps away from the drafting table.
The boys turn on their heels and shout their goodbyes over their shoulders as they leave the room.
“See you Tuesday!” Van adds.
Mitch yells after him, “Don’t forget to practice.” He gets no response.
The minute the boys are out of earshot, Mitch and I break into spontaneous laughter.
“Busted!”
“Oh. My. God!”