“Come on. We’ll go have dinner at Bella’s and you can chew my ear off about soccer all night.” I look up at him with my big, blue eyes and hope that his mood shifts. “You know Bella would love to hear how your game went.” At the mention of Bella’s name, Bryan’s face softens and he smiles at me.
“Sure. Sounds good.” A soft kiss to my lips and we’re walking off to the dorms and hopefully into a good night.
To say that Bella is excited to see us again is an understatement. She practically hangs on every word as Bryan tells her about his game and the end of his soccer career. His parents may not be here to celebrate with him, but Bella has more than made up for that.
After she seats us at a quiet table in the corner, she insists that she’ll bring us something special, so she doesn’t even give us the menus. As she gently places her hand on his shoulder, she says to Bryan, “It’s so nice to see you here for more than computer repair.” Her warm face lights up with appreciation as she walks away to the kitchen.
“So what do you think she’ll bring us this time?” It’s a pointless question, really. We’ve been here a few times in the month we’ve been dating and every time it’s something different, something not on the menu, something just for us.
“Whatever it is, she better bring it out soon. I’m starving,” he says before he bites off a huge chunk of bread.
“Yeah, well you ran your ass off during that game.” I smile and then, pitching my voice a bit lower, add, “It’s a mighty fine ass too.” His eyes widen a little at my somewhat forward statement.
“You’ve got quite a fine ass too, Melanie,” he says without missing a beat.
Rather than roll my eyes at his compliment, I opt for playfulness. “Yeah, I know, right? This guy I’ve been seeing keeps telling me that.” I deadpan, but rather than lightening the mood, what was supposed to be a playful quip, forces Bryan’s look to harden. The atmosphere suddenly feels chilly, his stare cold and hard.
“You’re seeing someone else?” His disbelieving and hurt voice makes me instantly regret my words. “I thought …” The rest of his words trail off and he reaches for his water.
“Bryan, I was just kidding. I was playing around. You know, like we usually do. I didn’t mean anything by it.” I wish I could take my words back, swallow them down along with the embarrassment and stupidity I’m feeling.
The moments stretch out long and awkwardly before he can even look at me again. When his warm brown eyes meet my blue ones, it’s like he’s baring his soul. “I just thought that … well, I mean … We’ve been dating for a while and I guess I just thought that you were only seeing me.”
“Oh my God, Bryan. Of course I’m only seeing you. There’s no one else. Is there anyone else for you?” I hadn’t even thought of that. What if he is seeing someone? What if it’s Courtney? No matter how many times I try to keep my insecurities at bay, they always seem to resurface.
Reaching for my hand across the table, he squeezes tenderly as he says, “Look, I know we haven’t been together all that long, but I don’t want to see anyone else besides you. We may not have gotten off to the easiest of starts, but I really, really like you, and just the thought of you being with someone else … well, it bothers me, a lot.”
Talk about turning the tables. I now realize how he feels every time I mention him wanting Courtney over me. I make a silent promise to myself to bury down my feelings where she is concerned. I don’t like how this feels so I can imagine it hurts him just as much.
I squeeze his hand in return, wanting so badly to take back my joke. “It was a stupid thing to say, Bryan. I really didn’t mean anything by it. Believe me. You have nothing to worry about. I’m all yours.” With pleading eyes and a face contorted in concern, I hope that my soft apology is enough to erase my words.
“Good. Because I really don’t want to share,” he adds as he pops another bite of bread into his mouth. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of seduction in the way he licks the drop of olive oil from the corner of his mouth.
I don’t want to ruin the evening any more than I already have, so rather than say something about Courtney – about worrying that she’s going to come and take him away from me – I smile brightly, take a bite of bread, and say, “Good. So since we’ve got the ‘no sharing’ thing out of the way, why don’t you tell me more about that goal you scored, which was amazing by the way.”
When his face lights with pride at his accomplishment, I feel like the crisis has been averted. Who knew he would be so possessive. I mean honestly, I’ve got him, why on Earth would I look anywhere else.
As he’s giving me the play-by-play run down of the final minutes of the game, Bella brings us over two huge plates of her world-famous lasagna. “Enjoy,” she says before she walks away.
I thought it was lasagna, but I was wrong. It is heaven - pure heaven on a plate covered in cheese and sauce and goodness. Bryan must agree because he’s done with more than half of his in no time flat.
“So, who’s Emmie?” I ask around a forkful of sauce-covered yumminess. Bryan and his mom mentioned the name earlier and it wasn’t one that I had heard before. Maybe it’s his dog or something like that.
Bryan stiffens slightly and wipes his mouth. Suddenly, he looks uncomfortable, and for the second time tonight, I feel like I’ve stepped on a landmine.
“Emmie’s my sister,” he says quickly, but I can’t help but wonder why his body language changed when I mentioned her name.
“Oh, that’s right. I remember you telling me.” When we came here for the first time, he told me he had a sister but then never brought her up again. “How come you never talk about her though?” My curiosity is piqued now. The only reason I can think of for him not talking about her is that they don’t get along.
“It’s complicated.” He’s being short and dismissive – so uncharacteristically Bryan.
I laugh a little because it’s the only reaction I can come up with. “What do you mean ‘complicated’? She’s your sister.”
He settles back in his chair and sighs. Seemingly sorting through his thoughts to find the right words, I wonder “how difficult can this really be?”
Bryan is lost in some kind of internal debate. Trying to calm whatever fears he apparently has, I say, “Bryan, talk to me. Please.”
It’s only his sister. It’s not like he’s confessing some kind of secret human-trafficking operation where he’s the ringleader. Oh no, what if he runs a puppy mill or something horrible like that?
Geez, at least I hope not.
He’s still not talking, so I try to back track a little. Starting with something small, I ask, “How old is she?”
Baby steps. Let’s see if he can do baby steps.
Leaning forward on his elbows once again, he rests is chin on his folded hands. “She’s twelve,” he says rather quickly, but his eyes are still on mine.
“Does she play soccer too?” Seems like a logical question. What little sister doesn’t idolize her super-star brother?
“No.” His dismissiveness has changed to sadness. I see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. I reach for his hand once again because he seems more at ease when there’s that physical connection between us. It’s been there from the start, and ever since I came around and let it progress, he always seems more at ease, more himself, when we’re touching.
“What is it, Bryan? Whatever it is, you can talk to me. I only ask because I want to know you better. But, for whatever reason, if you don’t want to share, I won’t push you.” I only hope he can hear the concern in my voice. I’m really not trying to pry; I just want him to open up.