"Kidding. Right now I'm tackling a list of things I would like to try. Hence, jumping off a bridge," I answered vaguely, not delving into the title of my list.
"What else?" he asked conversationally.
"Mostly things I've never had a chance to do. Make a snow angel, a canoe ride at night, a picnic in the moonlight, a snowball fight, stuff like that. I want to do as many items on my list as I can."
"All of that sounds cool, but why the rush to do them all now? You've got your whole life ahead of you."
"Sometimes life has a way of preventing you from doing the things you want to do the most," I answered evasively.
Silence filled the car following my words. Not an uncomfortable silence, mind you. We both just sort of lapsed into our own thoughts. His presence was comforting and felt right, which sent a warning flag in my head. Our relationship was supposed to be based on sex. Even though the sexual tension continued to hum at a low frequency between us, the tentative friendship we were forming was making its presence known.
"Favorite band?" Nathan asked, breaking the silence.
"Impossible to answer. First of all, there are too many genres I listen to, not to mention it's like asking a parent to pick a favorite child," I stated.
"Come on. You still have to have a favorite," he cajoled. "How about we narrow it down by songs?"
"That's even worse. Every song has a place and time, and it just depends on the significance they have on your life at the time. What about you?" I asked, smiling when he threw out a boy band song.
"Hey, laugh all you want, but the Backstreet Boys were good."
"You just don't seem like the Backstreet Boys type," I laughed. "Besides, I think they're like Backstreet Men now."
The rest of the ride raced by as we named off songs and the significances they held for us.
Thirty minutes later, we were debating the pros and cons of songs from the nineties, and what was currently hot on the charts, when Nathan pulled into the dirt lot on the side of Smith's General Store. For the first time that morning, there was an uncomfortable silence between us. I wasn't sure if it was my place to mention our next hook-up attempt or if he would. "So, I guess I better go in," I said, reaching for the handle.
He reached over and snagged my wrist. "I'll be here at six to pick you up," he said, pulling my hand up to his lips.
"Uh, you don't have to. I can walk home," I said, not sure about the track our relationship was currently on. I didn't sign on to get to know him. It was supposed to be sex, plain and simple.
"Like hell you can," he retorted.
"I'm wondering if we should call it quits while we're ahead. I'm not sure our possible hook-up is in the cards. It's like fate is trying to give us a sign. I figured maybe we should listen. You'll only be in town for a few more days anyway," I answered, expressing my concerns.
"Are you trying to break up with me?"
"We'd have to be dating to break up," I answered.
"Fair enough. Are you trying to end our sexual exploits before they've had a chance to be explored? Are you telling me you no longer want to go bike riding with me?" he coaxed, trailing his hand over my knee.
"Of course not. I was just trying to give you an out," I said, watching his hand with bated breath as it crept higher up my leg.
"I'm not looking for an out," he said, all joking gone from his voice. "I'll be here at six to pick you up," he clarified.
"And there would be that bossy side again," I said. "You really don't have to. Maybe you should rest tonight and we can get together tomorrow," I reasoned, trying to re-establish boundaries.
"Let me get this straight. I ask you to dinner, proceed to be a total dumbass by eating something I'm allergic to, you rush me to the hospital, sit by my sorry ass until a room was ready and then proceed to drive forty-five minutes out of your way the next morning to pick me up, making yourself late for work and yet, you think I'd pay you back by making you walk home after stranding you at work. That's not bossy. That's owning up," he said, flipping my hand over to plant a kiss on my palm.
"Besides, I don't want to be away from you that long," he added, placing another kiss in the center of my palm.
My breath quickened at the touch of his lips. "Okay," I finally answered, forcing myself to withdraw my hand so I wouldn't be any later for work.
Shutting the car door behind me, I walked away even though I would have much rather stayed with him. I was surprised at my reluctance to leave him. Even with my pathetic experience at dating, I'd always been put off by the limited conversation skills the guys I dated seemed to have. More times than not, the conversations had been stilted and often one-sided. Usually a few hours into the date, I was ready to call it a night and anxious to escape their presence. Was this how a real relationship was supposed to be? Did people really crave the companionship of their significant other to the point of being obsessive over it?
"I'm glad to see you survived your jump," Fran greeted me as I entered the store.
"Piece of cake," I answered, donning an apron.