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First and second dates from Jim´s POV. Title from The Decemberists "Of Angels and Angles."

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

On our first date we share a bottle of wine and order food we don’t eat. I tell you that I left Karen in New York because I didn’t know what to say to her and that she’s probably still wondering where I am. I can see you want to laugh a little but you don’t and I really appreciate that. 

 

I say, “I have no idea what I’m doing, I just felt like I needed to come back today.”

You say, “I’m really happy you did.”

 

I don’t tell you that I’m sort of afraid it was the wrong choice.

 

 I talk about how I’m confused and how I’m not exactly sure what I want and that I’m honestly scared to feel everything for you again because last time it nearly killed me. You listen to me go on and on about how I may never be that guy again and you don’t interrupt, not even when I say that I kind of hated that guy.

 

It is not until after I’ve talked for almost an hour that I realize you haven’t said anything.  I’m suddenly really scared that I got it all wrong again, that this isn’t what you meant when you said you called off your wedding because of me. I do that sometimes- try to see things where they aren’t- especially when it comes to you. I ask what it is you want, preparing for the worst.

 

 You just smile and say, “You.”

 

 I can feel all the pieces of my heart start to come back together like a building that’s collapsing in reverse.  I decide that if I had to do it over, I would still leave Karen in New York.

 

I don’t even feel that guilty when she calls in the middle of dinner to scream obscenities at me.  You tell me we should probably end our date early so I can go and deal with “the situation.” We decide to take it slowly until I have everything figured out with Karen. You wave goodbye to me through the windshield of your car as I listen to physical threats from my now ex-girlfriend. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

I don’t get to kiss you again until our second date, which is three weeks after our first date, which is a year and a half after our other first date. You wear a pink sweater and dangly earrings and your hair looks like it did on my second first day at Scranton. We meet at the restaurant because I forget to offer to pick you up because I still have no idea what I’m doing.

 

We order pizza and avoid talking about anything important. So many words are landmines and we dance around them like experts, like we’ve been doing it forever.  It’s really not so different than before- we’ve always been good at avoiding.  

 

You tell me about the weird people in your art class and we make up nicknames for all of them. We discuss possible reasons why the nude models are always unattractive and kind of old. I ask how much money it would take for you to do a nude portrait of Dwight and you say five thousand dollars which I laugh at because really, it’s not that much money. You say “I hate you” and everything is just like it always was.

 

I can’t decide if it´s a good thing- that this is all so much the same- but I want it to be.

 

We’re ten minutes late to the movie and sit near the back. I have no idea what it’s about because all I can think about is touching you. I’ve never been this close to you in the dark for so long, except on movie days at work, which don’t count because we are also really close to Meredith and Creed.  I debate whether it would be too juvenile or too awkward to try and hold your hand and I don’t even realize I’m shaking my leg nervously until you put your hand on my knee and say, “If you don’t stop doing that, I’m going to have to kill you.”  You smile with your tongue between your teeth and what I really want is to put my hand over yours and keep you connected to me, to make up for all the time that you weren’t. But I don’t. We watch the rest of the movie divided by the tiniest of spaces and everything is just like it always was.

 

It breaks my heart a little when I think maybe it’s impossible to go from whatever we were to whatever we’re trying to be.  That maybe we’re doomed to always be the same.  But then you throw a piece of popcorn at me and I think I don’t care.

 

The parking lot is empty and we walk slowly to your car like we’re scared of what awaits us when we get there.  I rescue a piece of popcorn that’s caught in your curls and you laugh when I eat it. The sky is clear and the moon is a tiny, bright sliver. You raise one eyebrow and say, “The moon is smiling at us.”  I love that.

When we get to your car, you fumble with your keys and then drop them on the ground.  I pick them up and you giggle and push your hair behind your ear twice.  I realize that you’re nervous- that I’m making you nervous and that makes me really nervous because this is nothing like it ever was.

 

 You take a deep breath and say, “I feel really…” but you don’t finish your sentence. You just shrug your shoulders and look up at me. I nod my head, “Me too.”

 

We’re both half giggling when I step closer. You whisper “ok” like you’re giving me permission to do something so I lean down and kiss you and it’s.  just.  everything.

 

 You pull back enough to rest your forehead on mine and I can feel your eyelashes on my face and your breath on my lips and my heart gets so full that I’m afraid it might explode.

 

I kiss you again and decide even if my heart does explode; it will totally be worth it.

 

I’m not sure how long we stay like this- a minute, an hour- it doesn’t matter because when you pull away it’s still too soon. You motion your hand towards your car and say, “I should probably…” and I try to hide my disappointment when I say, “Yeah.” But then something amazing happens and you kiss me again.

 

I drive home later with the windows down and the radio off.  I think about how this night was everything and nothing like it’s always been between us, which confuses me even though I don’t want it to. But I decide I don’t care. That none of the other stuff is important anymore because my lips are sore and the moon is smiling and finally, finally, you’re mine.



boredatwork is the author of 2 other stories.
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