Worth Saving(35)

Austin’s living room is furnished like he paid for an interior decorator. His couch and loveseat are dark brown, half suede, half leather and they look like they’ve never been sat on. He has a glass coffee table resting on top of a dark brown rug and centered in front of the couch and loveseat. The walls all have pictures of different monuments. On one wall, there’s a large picture of the St. Louis arch, in a dark wood frame. On another wall is the Eiffel Tower, and the Brooklyn Bridge is the feature on another wall. The entire room is masculine and very mature for a twenty-three year old.

“This is a really nice place,” I compliment.

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

“You stay here by yourself?”

“Yeah. My parents saved up quite a bit for me when I was growing up, so I kind of had a head start financially, and now the military is paying me pretty well. I do okay.”

A head start financially. Well, that must’ve been nice.

“So, can I get you something to drink?” Austin asks as he walks into the kitchen. He flips on the light and the gorgeous space is illuminated. Stainless steel appliances, dark brown wood cabinets, and a brown tile floor. It’s a beautiful kitchen.

For some reason, in the ten seconds it takes for me to admire Austin’s kitchen, I realize where I am. I mean, I knew I was in his house, obviously, and I knew we just had a great time at the paint studio, but something is different now. He asks me if I want a drink, and it just dons on me that I allowed myself to be brought to his house. I allowed myself to open up and do something I’ve never done before. Truth be told, I’ve never willingly gone over to a man’s house. I lost my virginity at sixteen years old in my dad’s house. Shortly thereafter, I ran away, and the rest is history, I guess. But, I’ve never done this before. So, what exactly is this? Is this dating? Are we becoming a couple? Is that what he’s expecting? Is that what I’m expecting? Am I allowing how amazing he’s been to give me amnesia about my life and the things I do? Just what the f*ck are we doing? What am I doing?

“Layla, you want a drink?” Austin asks again, still standing with his hand on the door of the refrigerator.

“What do you want from me, Austin?” I reply. The question catches him off guard, and he tilts his head.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you expect to come out of all this? What am I doing here?”

“Well, you’re here because you wanted to come here. As for what I expect, I don’t know. Are you asking me what I expect tonight or in the future?”

“What do you expect to happen with us? Because, I’m not sure I even know. I don’t know what I’m doing. I know I wanted to come here, and it was me who called you to go out tonight, but now that I’m here, and you’ve been so sweet to me, I just don’t know what’s supposed to happen. My life isn’t any easier now than it was the day we had breakfast together, and there’s still stuff you don’t know about me that I’m sure could ruin all of this talk of being my BFF. So, I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know, and I’m sorry if this is confusing. I don’t mean for it to be. It’s just that I’m confused.”

Austin takes his hand off the fridge and walks over to me. When he gets close, I can smell his cologne, and my stomach does flips.

“I don’t know anything either, Layla. I’m confused, too” he admits. “When you called, I didn’t know what to expect, so I didn’t come into this night thinking that any particular thing was gonna happen. I just knew I wanted to go out with you. Before I saw you in the bar that night, I always said that I was too busy to have anything serious with anyone. This isn’t how I do things, either. You asked me about the desert queens one day, and I laughed because I knew what you were talking about. Well, desert queens were all I ever really dealt with because I knew it’d never be anything serious. I was a helicopter pilot, flying all over the world, meeting all kinds of women. I was just trying to enjoy my life, and I’ve been the same kind of guy that you hate. But, things with me are different now. I don’t know if it has something to do with seeing my co-pilot die in the desert, or maybe I’m just maturing and starting to want different things. I don’t know. I just know how I feel, and there’s something about being around you that makes me feel better. I like talking to you. It’s like this weird challenge I have with myself to get you to smile whenever we hang out. I like having to break down your walls. I like that you’re guarded. We have some sort of connection that neither one of us can explain, but maybe it doesn’t need explaining. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. We’re getting to know each other, and the more I find out about you, the more I like.”

I let out a deep breath of air out of frustration.

“I don’t think you understand, Austin,” I try to explain. “I like you, and you make me feel good, too. I’ve never known anybody as goofy as you, and that’s great because you make me laugh and feel good every time we get together. You seem like a great guy, and I don’t want to hurt you. There are things in my life that are difficult . . .”

“So what? There’s things in my life that are difficult, too. I’m not saying I love you and I want you to marry me tomorrow at A Little White Chapel. All I’m saying is that if we make each other feel good, shouldn’t that be all that matters? Why does it have to be this big, earth-stopping deal? We like each other. We enjoy each other’s company. That’s it.”