Jack & Lucy

Jack

It turns out that loving Lucy was as easy as breathing. As I watched her stand in front of my closet, one hand in a fist on her hip, the other tucked under her chin, I realized how easy it has been to commit to her. I don't know why I didn't think I could do it before. I don't know why I waited so long to allow myself to feel something. I always thought that us crossing the line from friendship to romance would be a mistake. That we couldn't work as a couple because I would never be committed and that was all Lucy was looking for. Someone to commit to her, love her, raise her up and be her partner. I was an idiot to think I couldn't be that person. 

Last night making cookie cutters was the most fun I had ever had on a date. We had a natural flow and she finally had the ease I'd associated with her before she left. We just laughed and joked around and I noticed I always had a hand on her or she had a hand on me. We had taken so long with the printer that we decided to push our double date with Fischer and Stella to Friday. I think we also just wanted another day to ourselves. Without prying eyes or opinions. I have no idea how much Lucy has been filling Stella in on and I imagine Stella will know what goes down at the hotel tonight before I see her. I had only gotten a taste of Lucy and now I was determined to inhale the whole thing. 

She finally spins around with a serious expression taking over her face and a navy short-sleeve button-up hanging off a wire dry cleaning hanger in her hand. 

"Okay, this with the khaki pants should be fine. And your brown lace-up boot things." 

"I think they are just called boots." She frowns and tosses the hanger over to me. 

"You know which ones I mean. The nice ones. That sit right above your ankle."

"If you've spent this much time deciding on what I am wearing today, I worry how long you're going to take to get ready," I tell her and then she crosses the room to yank my arm up to her. She spins my wrist to peek at my watch and then says, "Shit. We need to leave in an less than hour." 

"I'll be ready," I confidently tell her and she nods while blowing a long breath of air out. Her eyes are glazed over and she's suddenly far away. "Lucy, go. I can dress myself. I promise." She snaps out of it and then strides out of my room without another word. I know going to her parents is causing her anxiety to go through the roof. She fidgeted next to me in bed last night and even though we had done another round with our fingers, she was still wide awake and restless. I felt her shift as she tried to fall asleep but all the repositioning she was doing wasn't helping. I finally felt the bed stop moving around two and she was wide awake to go on a run at six. 

Once I am dressed in my Lucy-approved outfit, I pack an overnight bag and grab a handful of condoms to stuff inside. Lucy dealing with her parents and sister for an evening might finally have her ready to have sex with me. She might need a way to release her frustration. That and I already have the candles, champagne, flowers, and robes I had delivered this morning in my trunk and am hoping Lucy won't see the bags I have it all hidden in. I just need to think of a way to get Lucy to leave the hotel for twenty minutes while I prep the space. I had planned to go all out tonight. I have never put this much effort into sex before and I hope it pays off.

I drape the strap of my duffle over my shoulder and wander into the living room. I glance at my wrist and see Lucy has three minutes before we have to leave. 

"Lucy is your bag packed? I can go load the car," I shout in the direction of her room. I hear her muffled voice and then see her striding down the hallway. She must catch my surprise at her outfit because she holds her palm out and says, "All my shit was stolen remember. I didn't have many options." I'm so used to seeing Lucy in bar clothes and workout attire that it's weird to her dressed so conservatively. She's wearing a hunter-green long-sleeve tucked into a brown corduroy skirt that stops just past her knees. Her hair is straightened to sit just above her shoulders and her makeup is subtle. I think I just got a glimpse of catholic school Lucy. She steps into brown flats and I am waiting for her to slide a plaid headband into her hair. 

"Should I go grab my old prep school blazer? Really make this a Gossip Girl thing?" I joke and she gives me the frown I've come to expect from her. 

"I couldn't wear one of Stella's dresses for an evening at home and I couldn't wear cut-off Levi's or Vuori's either." 

"I don't know those things, but I'll believe you," I say and she takes another deep breath in. "Where is your bag?" She holds up a finger before spinning around and darting back down the hallway. I go to meet her near the guest bathroom and I watch as she zips up the green backpack she has in her hands. 

"I also don't own any luggage or overnight bags, so this is going to have to do. It's not helping the schoolgirl look however," she admits and I grab the bag from her. 

"Blair would never rock a Jansport though," I joke back to her and she freezes. 

"I'm now concerned with how much you know about Gossip Girl."

"I am too and have been for years. Bre used to make us watch it when it came on every week. But now she's ashamed with how much she knows about WWE."

"I don't think Lauren even watches TV. We certainly weren't splitting screen time at home either." We move out of the hallway and she goes to grab her purse off the barstool as I ask, "What does your sister like? Will I have any common ground here?" She shakes her head, "No. She doesn't like anything except for herself. So if you think she's as amazing as she does, you'll get along." She slides on the sunglasses she slipped out of her purse and then looks at me. "Are you ready to go do a deep study into why I am the way that I am?" She gives me a sarcastic grin and I give her a confident nod back. 

"You're really hyping this up here."

"I'm just trying to prepare you for the fifth circle of hell here. My mother's wrath about me leaving New York not once, but twice will not go undiscussed." 

"She left New York," I say plainly. Wondering how a woman so in love with New York ever found happiness in Tuscon. 

"She didn't want to. My dad finally forced her. She was miserable with the weather changes and depressed that she had to quit playing the violin professionally. And surprisingly, Arizona has great programs for people with osteoarthritis." 

"Because of the high population of old people," I mutter and she laughs, "Oh my god do not make that joke in front of my mom. She still tries to pass for forty." 

"Noted. But really, is this whole evening going to be an ode to New York? Should I whip out the fun architecture facts that I know about the city? I can tell her all about the original marble court in the Metlife Building. Or that Tommy Hilfiger purchased it a decade ago to make it into a hotel."  

"I can't tell if you're being serious or are a fabulous bullshitter when it comes to architectural history." She asks me as I push the garage door open. "But she'll probably act as if Tommy Hilfiger told her that personally. That she was going to stay there opening weekend." I laugh as she wanders toward the passenger door and I am glad she didn't watch me pop open the trunk. 

"Of course I had to study New York architecture in school. I had to replicate the Flatiron Building in one of my design courses." I hit the trunk shut with the heel of my hand and she's already plugging her phone into the sound system when I slide into the driver's seat. She looks at me with her lips in a pout and I instantly ask, "Uh oh. What do you want?" She turns the pout into a sly grin and answers, "I'm going to need Taylor. She helps me in my anxious times." 

"It's a two-hour drive," I whine but she just claps her hands together. 

"I know, we can get through almost two albums!" I let her win this one because I don't want to see her have an anxiety attack. I hear that familiar plucking of guitar strings and know I am in for a long ride.