NATE
I put the lid back on the pot cooking the pasta sauce and return my attention to where Ainsley is doing her homework at the bar.
I love nights like this. I love how comfortable she is being here all the time. Fuck, I wish I could just have her move in. Ever since I gave her a key a few weeks ago, I swear it’s been the only thing I can think about. Having her here permanently. On Valentine’s Day, she spent the night, breaking another one of our rules, and I took her home around six the next morning. It gave her enough time to change, eat breakfast, and catch the bus. We’ve started to make a habit of it now. We’ve developed several of our own little routines and I love them all. I love every minute I spend with her and am beginning to hate the ones I don’t. Some nights when she’s not in my bed, I find myself staring at photos I’ve taken of us, and pretending she’s beside me. Other times when I’m picking up the apartment, I leave the traces she’s been there untouched, so it feels like she’s still around. We constantly text outside of school hours, even when she’s working. I don’t even shop for the bare essentials anymore without her in mind. I’ve switched soaps. Toothpaste. Coffee brands. Fuck, I even bought lady products to have under my cabinet for whenever that shit occurs. There’s a thin line between love and obsession and the truth is I’m tangled in it.
My back hits the counter as I ask, “Have you even turned the page?”
She glances up at me, annoyance apparent. “No.”
“What are you stuck on?”
“Comparing and contrasting at least three things between The League of Nations and The UN.”
The topic cringes my own face and I toss the kitchen towel over my shoulder. “Can’t help you there. History outside of film was something I hated.”
“Tell me about it,” she mutters, throwing her pen on top of the open textbook.
I like the way she prefers to write her answers by hand then revise them before typing. Fuck, I even love the girly way she loops some of her letters.
“Speaking of films….” Ainsley coos, “Have you finished editing ours?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“Seriously?”
“I want it to be perfect.”
And I do. Creating a half ass version of my girlfriend doing dirty shit to me on film for our private enjoyment doesn’t sit well with me. To be honest, half ass doing anything related to film, doesn’t sit well with me. Drawback to being passionate at your craft, I guess.
She smirks. “It will be.”
I move onto the next subject. “Have you already started looking into what classes you need to take for your degree in Cinematography?
Enthusiastically she nods. “Been stalking that website for years. It changes a little every year, but basically remains the same. The only class I’m worried about is intro to photography. I suck with normal pictures.”
A little smile shifts onto my face. “You don’t suck.”
“I can barely take a good selfie! You’ve seen them!”
“Completely different type of photography.”
She shrugs. “If I suck at the simple one, why wouldn’t I suck at the more complex ones?”
I quickly make an attempt to comfort her. “How about I promise you now that if you need my help, I’ll be there no questions asked?”
Ainsley sweetly smiles. “Were you any good at photography?”
“Wasn’t as amazing as some of my classmates, but I didn’t suck as you so sophisticatedly put it.”
In a cautious tone, she questions, “Did you ever actually attempt to pursue a career in editing?”
My face hardens and I begin to busy myself with wiping down the kitchen counter behind me. “I um…I did once. Had a job interview with McCormick and McCordick couple months before I graduated.”
“McCormick and McCordick…like the big art company?”
I wipe away a spot of sauce I find. “Yeah.”
“I thought they specialized in like art art. You know, paintings and stuff.”
“It’s a huge corporation. They have multiple divisions including a film one. At the time they were looking for an editing assistant to help create promotional videos for their events. Someone to showcase their capabilities to present to potential clients.”
“Not exactly an Oscar film, but still a pretty amazing job…”
It would’ve been, especially for a guy who hadn’t even graduated college yet.
“What happened?”
I step over back to the stove to check on the sauce again.
When I don’t reply, she pushes, “Tell me, what happened Nate. Tell me what stopped you from doing all those things I know you imagined yourself doing.”
My head drops slightly forward.
“Tell me what caused you to live with regret. And I know it’s there. I see it every time we discuss attending a film festival or you get an email from your old college friends. Hell, I can see it every time we just watch an indie film. You obviously hate the fact you’re stuck teaching instead of something else, so I wanna know how you got here.”
I clamp my jaw shut.
In a very soft, very meek tone, she implores, “Please, tell me Nate. Please let me in…”
Tension trails itself throughout my body. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to bring it up. I don’t want to watch the look of disgust or horror or disapproval that’s going to come. There’s not a moment of that I wanna relive. Not now. Not ever.
Reluctantly, I turn and face Ainsley. Her wild brown eyes are filled with kindness and acceptance in spite of whatever I could possibly say. What if that instantly changes? What if she starts to hate me for a stupid mistake I made?
“Nothing you could possibly say will make me love you less.”
Her choice of words chokes mine. “Y-y-you love me?”
She nervously nibbles on her bottom lip almost as if she regrets saying it. Maybe she does. Maybe she meant she cares deeply. She is young. It’s hard to know the difference.
To my surprise, she lifts her chin defiantly in the air. “I do.”
I approach the counter space closer to her. “You sure? We’ve only been dating a few months.”
Ainsley shrugs. “So. Time doesn’t define love, Nate. How you feel inside does. And I know I have never felt anything as incredible as what I feel with you. It doesn’t matter if we’re having dinner at home or fooling around in the front seat of your car or arguing about who really deserved an Oscar. Every moment I’m with you, I feel safe. I feel happy. I feel…complete. I may not have a long string of boyfriends as evidence that I can tell the difference between lust and love, but I know in my heart what I feel. I know any time I’m with you I feel whole. For me…that’s love.”
Without hesitation, I reply, “I love you too, Ainsley.”
A beautiful, bright smile appears on her face.
Maybe this is crazy. Maybe being in love this fast and this hard is ridiculous. But what’s more ridiculous is my inability to picture a life without her. A life without us. No. This didn’t start ideally. No. This still isn’t ideal, but we’ve made it work. I think both of us are willing to do whatever it takes to make this possible. Maybe that’s insane, but I honestly can’t think of a better definition for love.
Quietly, I begin, “Couple of months before graduation, I landed an interview with McCormick and McCordick. It happened the week of my birthday. The interview was to take place the following Monday and I thought celebrating it fit in nicely with my birthday. We were throwing this badass party. The biggest we had ever thrown yet. It was going to be one of our lasts, so we wanted to make it count. We went crazy. Rented a dunk tank and filled it with beer. Keg stand contests for huge cash prizes. Pax apparently hired strippers as a birthday gift….”
She leans forward onto her arms. “So, what happened?”
“I don’t know,” I confess, vocal chords concaving. After a long deep breath, I state, “I don’t remember. I remember having congratulations shots before the party started and waking up in the hospital a few days later.”
Her head tilts in confusion.
“I got severe alcohol poisoning. At some point during the party, I passed out, woke up and returned to drinking. When I passed out the second time, I started choking on my own vomit. Not really sure how I’m still alive other than a sheer miracle. I should’ve died at that party. I should’ve died in the ambulance. Even the doctor, when he came in to explain why I was there barely could.”
A hand cups her mouth in shock.
I attempt to swallow the expanding knot in my throat. “My stomach had to be pumped. I couldn’t breathe on my own. I was unconscious for four days. I missed my interview because I was stupid and careless and nearly killed myself.” Another wave of self-loathing washes over me. “I did shit that night, I will never remember. And not just great things like finally kicking Wyatt’s ass at quarters, but beating the shit out of some Freshman who ‘looked at me the wrong way’ and sleeping with some chick, who ended up pregnant.”
Her jaw drops. “You’re….You’re….”
“No.” I slowly shake my head. “She got an abortion and told me after the fact. I’m not sure I had the right to have an opinion since I couldn’t even remember her name.” Shame bathes me again. “After that incident, I changed my entire life. I quit drinking, completely. It wasn’t until last year I even considered picking up alcohol again. I changed the access to my trust fund to punish me if I tried to take more money out before I turned 30. Graduated and started taking high paying tutoring jobs and substitute gigs. I gave up pursuing my passion, partially in fear it would lead me back to living like that and partially as punishment for fucking up as bad as I had. When I left the hospital, I swore I wouldn’t let my life get that out of control again. That I would show restraint. That I would think shit through and be more responsible. And up until I started dating you, it was an easy way to live…”
She lifts her eyebrows. “What did I do?”
“Brought back to life what I was trying to keep buried. Help me reconnect with a part of myself I was still hiding from…Being with you….watching you create your own future covered in your passion makes me rethink about going after my own. Makes me reevaluate the differences between living and being alive. Between dealing with a second shot at life and taking it.”
Ainsley slides off the bar stool and comes straight to me. Her fingers link with mine at the same time she says, “You gave us a chance, why not give your career in film another one too?”
I give her hand a squeeze. “Not sure I’m ready to take that risk yet, Kid.”
She lifts to her toes to plant a soft, short kiss on my lips. “Well whenever you’re ready, I’m here for you, just like I know you’re here for me.”
Thoughtlessly, I mumble, “How the hell did I get this lucky?”
Her body brushes against mine instantly arousing the temptation to push her against the counter and fuck her until she forgets what I’ve done. “Wanna get a different kind of lucky?”
My cock answers on my behalf, but the oven begins to ding, indicating our bread is done. Before I can get too carried away, I break us apart and tease, “You’re just trying to get out of doing your homework.”
Ainsley lightly laughs. “Maybe a little of that….”
I grab the oven mitt and move over to pull out the bread. Once it’s resting on the stove to cool down, I begin arranging the pasta dinner I cooked. She takes it upon herself to help and we work out a system that speeds up the process. After she relocates her homework to the coffee table, we arrange ourselves at the bar, and begin to eat.
She blows on the steaming bite of chicken parmesan before she suggests, “Maybe we should get a kitchen table?”
“Why? You hate the bar?”
“Of course not. Just thought maybe it would be fun to have dinner at one like a normal couple…or at the very least, have a new piece of furniture to fuck on.”
Her choice of words causes me to groan behind my stuffed mouth. She does that shit on purpose. Waits until I can’t retort then says something delicious. But on topic, I see her point. Maybe a table to eat at would be a good idea and she could keep doing her homework at the bar. Maybe we could have my bros over for a meal and there be enough space for everyone to eat. No. It’d still be a bit cramped. Hm. Maybe we should get a table and a bigger place…
I push away the premature thoughts. “Would you rather I buy us a table for my birthday or a new bed?”
“Bed.”
The quick reply causes me to laugh.
“Can I help pick it out?”
With a casual shrug, I answer, “I don’t see why not. You’ll be sleeping in it as much as I will.”
Her smile ignites my own.
She’s gotta graduate first. As soon as she graduates, fuck that, as soon as I’m no longer her teacher, I’ll move her in completely. Or…we’ll find a place together. We can wait a couple months…It won’t kill us.
“What are we doing to celebrate your birthday?” Ainsley asks between bites of her salad. “Something huge? You’re gonna be 30!”
I grunt. “Yeah. Don’t remind me.”
“Come on.” Her hand lands on my thigh. “30s the new 20, so you have nothing to worry about.”
“By that definition you would be 8 and I would be a pedophile.”
She gags.
“Exactly.” We exchange a small chuckle. “Pax has been hounding me to do something to really celebrate my birthday. We haven’t done anything huge since ‘the incident’. Most years Wyatt cooks something and we watch Terminator 2.”
“Because it is significantly more kickass than 1.”
I smirk, lean forward, and plant a quick kiss on her red sauce covered lips. “Never wonder why I love you.”
Ainsley giggles and gives me another peck.
When she leans away, I inform, “I was thinking maybe renting a beach condo for a couple days? Not one on the coast closest to us, but the next state over. Little further away from where most of your peers will be vacationing. My birthday is the Friday during Spring Break, so I was thinking we could go away Thursday through Saturday. Come home and rest Sunday.” I have another forkful of lettuce and add, “I really would like to spend time with you in public without having to worry about who might be watching. Besides, I think finally having you meet my bros will shut them up from all the complaining they’ve been doing about me keeping you my dirty little secret.”
She swallows the contents of her mouth. “I like the dirty part.”
I roll my eyes.
“A few days at the beach sounds amazing, but I don’t know that I can afford that.”
“Don’t worry about money.” My insistence causes her to frown. “Seriously. I’d break the bank to let us walk around like a normal couple for a few days.”
Ainsley tries to give me a sweet smile. “And what do I tell my mom?”
“The truth.” Before she can even attempt an argument, I say, “You’re in an adult relationship. Act like it. There’s no reason to hide. Be honest with her. Tell her you’re going away with your boyfriend for a few days. You’ll be back in time for class on Monday. I’m sure she can handle doing her own fucking laundry for two days.”
She gives me a sarcastic glance.
“I’m serious, Ainsley. She already treats you like an adult. You might as well enjoy the perks of being one.”
“And when she threatens to kick me out if I go?”
“I will be waiting in the wings with packing tape and empty boxes.”
“And a sharpie to properly label everything?”
“Exactly.”
We share a little laugh and she gives my leg a swat. “Okay, but in all seriousness...”
“I was being serious, Ainsley. If she kicks you out, you’ll move in with me.”
The two of us exchange a long, silent sweet stare.
As much as I want her to live here, her to stand up to her piece of shit mother, her to pick us over everything else, I’m not going to push her harder than she can handle. She may have resurrected the impatient dick I used to be, but she hasn’t completely killed the logical one I am still dragging around.
“Okay,” she almost whispers. “Let’s go on vacation.”