Work Text:
"Gina, please," Maddox pleads, dramatically draping herself on Gina. "It's just one date. You broke up with Jack months ago."
"You didn't even like Jack," Gina says in lieu of a response. Maddox has been asking—no, begging—Gina to go out with one of her brother's friends for a week now to no avail.
"I never said that," Maddox says in mock offense. "What I said was I don't like that he broke your heart, and he's a loser. That's not the same thing. He was okay before that." She pauses for a moment. "I hate seeing you mope around over some guy. You never want to leave our apartment, and you barely do anything you like anymore. You've lost your sparkle, Gi. I just miss my friend."
While it's true that she had been a little less happy—okay, a lot less—she hadn't realized how disconnected she'd been from her life and her friends in the last four months. There'd been a sort of dark cloud hanging over her that she hadn't realized had been raining on her friend.
So, she relents. "Okay," she sighs. "I'll go."
Maddox can barely contain the happy squeal that escapes her lips. "I'll tell Jet." Her roommate moves faster than Gina has ever seen her move, an excited buzz about her. She wonders if she was really that bad that three little words had acted like a shot of adrenaline for her friend.
"Wait," Gina says, watching as Maddox stops dead in her tracks. "Are you gonna tell me anything about this stranger I've just agreed to go out with or…" She trails off, waiting for her to say literally anything about this mystery guy.
"Well, I've only met him once," she pauses at the exasperated look on her roommate's face. "Don't give me that look. I trust my brother not to befriend sociopaths. Anyway, from what I got from that one time, he's nice, sort funny if you like corny jokes, he's a musician and he's cute."
She stares blankly at Maddox. "I'm gay, not blind."
"I didn't say anything." she defends.
"No, but you were thinking it," she says. "God, I said Bill Hader was cute once, and you hold it against me forever."
"Well, he's not," Gina says, a small smile on her face as she looks at the scowl on her friend's face.
"We're not doing this again. I'm texting Jet."
I.
Two days later, Gina walks into a coffee shop just a little after one. She'd only agree if he could meet her while the sun was still out and the streets were full of life. As much as she loves her roommate, she finds it hard to believe that someone who could befriend Jet isn't just a little offbeat.
She's a little nervous. She hasn't had to do the awkward small talk, get to know you with a guy in so long that she doesn't think she'll remember how to. She almost chickens out and goes home, but she promised Maddox that she'd at least give this guy a chance.
Maddox had instructed her to look for a guy wearing a denim jacket and pair of worn-in converse. She surveys the small cafe until her eyes land on a guy fitting that description. She takes a breath and walks over to him, an introduction on her lips, but then he turns toward her, and she forgets how to breathe.
Staring up at her from where she's glued to the floor is Ricky Bowen. Same soft brown curls, kind eyes and adorable grin. He hasn't changed since she last saw him almost three years ago. He's still the boy she remembers—the one that kept her up most nights.
"Gina Porter," he says, voice soft as he rises from his seat to hug her. "I can't believe this. I thought I'd never see you again after you moved away, but here you are."
He still smells the same, like a mix of sandalwood and the faint scent of fresh linens.
She still hasn't said anything, too shocked to do more than just stare. She almost felt like she was hallucinating because what were the odds that she'd actually been set up on a blind date with Ricky Bowen? Pretty high, she'd assume, since he's standing in front of her like a ghost from crushes past, just as cute as she remembers.
She clears her throat when she realizes she hasn't said a single thing. "Sorry," she finally says. "It's so good to see you."
He gestures toward the table for them to sit. "I haven't ordered yet. I figured I should wait until you got here."
"So, how do you know Jet," Gina says, ignoring what he's just said, needing to understand how they'd ended up here.
"Uh, we met at camp the summer before my senior year," he chuckles. "He didn't like me very much at first, but I helped him through some stuff, and we've been friends ever since. I'm staying with him while I record a couple of songs for an album."
"An album?" She perks up at the mention of him making music. His voice was one of her favorite things about him. She'd practically melted when he sang "When There Was Me and You" that day after rehearsal.
"Yeah," his voice takes on a nervous tone. "I decided to take more music seriously since it's the one thing I could always count on." There's something in his voice that sounds a little like fear.
"Well, I can't wait to hear whatever you release," she says, her voice so sincere that she can see him visibly relax. A silence falls between them. It's not unwelcome, but she should probably say something.
"I'm gonna go order," he says after a beat. "What do you want?" She tells him her order, and as he walks away, she pulls her phone out of her purse. Her fingers quickly typing out a message to her roommate.
gi: maddox, what the hell?
mads: what? what happened?
gi: my date… its ricky bowen
mads: is that name supposed to mean something?
gi: yes! he's the guy that i put myself out there for because i thought i was moving away but then i ended up staying until the end of the school year and it became incredibly awkward between us.
mads: well, is it awkward now?
gi: … no
mads: then what's the problem?
gi: besides the fact that i'm on a date with someone i embarrassed myself in front of? nothing. everything's great.
mads: you're such a drama queen. look, there's no need to bring that up. it's been years, i'm sure he doesn't remember
mads: now, stop texting me and talk to the boy
Just as she slips her phone back into her purse, Ricky returns to the table with their orders.
"Is everything okay," he asks, his brows furrowed in concern.
"Yeah, yeah," she says much too quickly as she takes a sip of her coffee. Silence settles between them as they drink their coffees and eat their pastries. She has no clue what to say to him, and as time passes, the silence starts to feel awkward. This is uncharted territory for them.
"So," he says. "What have you been up to since the last time we saw each other."
"I moved to Louisiana for a bit, then Maine for a few months. I lived in Washington during my senior year. And now, I'm studying dance at a performing arts college."
"Cool," he says, the corners of his mouth tilting up. He's quiet for a second, then his smile widens. "You know? Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd go on a date with Gina Porter where neither of us speaks." The tone of his voice is teasing as he attempts to make things less stilted.
"Never in my wildest dreams did I think the next time we saw each other, it would be a blind date," a smile taking over her own lips. "What exactly do you do in this situation? Forgive me if I don't exactly know what the protocol is."
"It's a date, Gi," he says, tilting his head and grinning at her. "You've been on one of those before, right?"
"No, this is my first one," her response comes out sarcastic and teasing.
"I can tell," Ricky says, laughing at the look on her face. She reaches over and swats his arm. When he finally calms down, he makes a suggestion. "I saw this list of questions in the New York Times once." He pulls his phone out, searching for the question before he turns the screen toward her.
"The 36 Questions That Lead to Love," she reads out loud, a little skeptical. "Is that a bit… I don't know… much for a first date between two people who haven't seen each other in years?"
"Are you afraid to fall in love with me?" There's a teasing glint in his eyes, and his tone is almost challenging.
"No," she doesn't tell him that she already did during her sophomore year. "It's just… do we really need a list of stupid questions to talk? I mean we were friends once upon a time, Ricky."
"I know, but it doesn't hurt to have something to go off of," he says. "It's not like we have to get through all of them. We can stop once the conversation starts flowing."
She thinks over what he's just said. They've been here for almost half an hour, and they've barely said much of anything, so maybe having something to go off of, even if it's a stupid list of questions that are supposed to manufacture feelings for a partner.
"What's the first question," she asks, and he's smiling triumphantly at her. She really missed his smile. She missed him.
"Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?" He reads aloud. She was right about the questions being cheesy, but she'll give it her best effort.
"Hmm," she says. "I think I'd have to go with Serena Williams. I feel like she'd have some solid advice but also just be fun to talk to you. What about you?"
"Oh, easy," he says, "Paul McCartney."
"Why?"
"Um…" He pauses for a moment before he leans over the table, waving her closer. "Okay… I lied… it's actually Taylor Swift." She giggles at his confession. "Don't laugh! I just wanna know how she writes so many songs with lyrical significance. Also, I heard she makes great cookies and who doesn't like cookies?"
She laughs as she reaches for his phone, reading the next question. "Would you like to be famous? In what way? Oh, we're getting deep now," she jokes. He rolls his eyes and smiles.
"I don't want to be famous in any way," he says, his voice serious. "It just doesn't seem appealing, you know? Having people pry into your life and having to worry about being likable all the time. It sounds exhausting. If I can just make music, then that's enough for me."
"Well, when I was younger, yes, but not so much now. Not for the same reasons as you, though," she says. Her dreams of making it big have all but fizzled out. "Now, if I could be Frank Ocean famous, then sure, because no one ever knows what he's up to. He puts out art, then vanishes. That would be ideal."
"Wouldn't have expected that from you," he says. "Of all the people I know, I think you definitely could make it in that world."
"It's not really a matter of making it, though," she says, taking a sip of her coffee. "I'm sure I could, but it's really a matter of stability. I feel like too many things would change and be out of my control. I want a life that has roots that span more than a few feet, and I can't have that if everything is always changing."
"No, I get that," he says. His expression is soft as he locks eyes with her. The butterflies in her stomach that used to flutter around for him are suddenly in full drive again.
She clears her throat and reads the next question. "Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?" She doesn't even have to think of a response. "Yes. I'm not really good at coming up with things on the spot, especially when it's something important. I don't obsess over it or anything, but I do make sure I know what I'm saying so I don't say the wrong thing."
Admitting that to him makes her think of the opening night of High School Musical. She'd rehearsed over and over what she should say because the plane was going down, and she couldn't leave without saying anything. That moment had felt so charged. It's probably the most real thing she's ever felt, but looking back, maybe she might have made it more than it was.
"I don't. I probably should, though," he says, trying to get her to smile. "I'm always saying the wrong thing."
"Not to me," Gina says in earnest. "You're the one person who told me what I needed to hear when I needed to hear. I never really thanked you for that. So… thanks."
Gina sees now that he never really grew out of his self-doubt. When they'd know each other, it always seemed like he was waiting for someone to tell him he was ruining things. She's sad to see it hasn't changed, even if he's joking about it now.
"Uh, thanks," he says quietly before asking the next question. "What would constitute a "perfect" day for you, Miss Porter?"
Gina mulls over the question for a minute. It shouldn't be a hard question, but it is. "A perfect day for me…" she trails off, still thinking. "Hmm... right now? a perfect day would mean getting to relax and not stressing over choreography. I love to dance, obviously, but sometimes I need a break. So, a perfect day for me would be spent with my friends doing the most mundane things you could do any other day of the week and end with a sleepover. Basically, a day where I don't always have to be on my toes, literally and figuratively."
"Well, maybe we can live out your perfect day." He grins at her, but she knows that he means it. "My perfect day would probably be one last day with my parents as a happy family. I know that they weren't meant to be, and change is good, but everything ended so soon, and I miss how things were sometimes."
She doesn't say anything as she reaches for his hand and gently squeezes it. "I'm not sad about how things turned out for them anymore, but there's always the what-ifs in life, right?"
"Yeah," she nods. "So, what's the next question?" She's changing the subject before she dwells too hard on the what-ifs that exist between them.
"When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?"
"This morning on both fronts," she smiles as she remembers Maddox's annoyed banging on the bathroom door. Yelling that it's too early to be that chipper. "Singing in the shower makes it more fun, and our walls are paper thin, so Maddox heard every note. I can't say that she enjoyed it as much as I did."
"Considering that I'm trying to write an album, singing is something I do every day," he says. "Last night, I played jet something I was working on, and he kinda hated it, so it's back to the songbook for me."
"It couldn't have been that bad," Gina says, eyeing him curiously.
"Oh, it was," he says, closing his eyes as if he was remembering something painful. "He's brutally honest, but I appreciate that, even though it stings a little." He laughs, and it startles her a bit. "If you heard some of the things he's said about some of my songs, you'd understand why I was laughing."
"What has he said?"
"He told me once that my songs are where words go to die because they're depressed, instead of saying something, I don't know, normal. He could've just told me it was too sad."
She just stares at him, squinting at him and nodding. "Well, okay. That's one way to give criticism. Anyway, what's the next question?
"If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?"
"Body," she doesn't hesitate to say. "I could dance for the rest of my life. Dancers' bodies get worn down so fast, and I think I'd like to dance in my old age."
"Same," he says before shaking his head. "About the body, not the dancing part. We both know I could never dance as well as you do." He flexes the fingers in the hand she still holds and laces their fingers together. "You need good joints for playing guitar, and I don't wanna give that up. I've always been better at singing the things I feel than saying them."
His eyes have an intensity to them as the words leave his lips. They just stare at each other for a moment, not saying anything. The words feel charged as they hang in the air between them. It feels like he's telling her something without really saying anything.
She looks away from his gaze and down at this phone before turning it toward her and reading the next question. "Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?"
"Um… yes, but also no," he says, clearing his throat, "I've thought countless times that I might die attempting a trick on my skateboard but nothing ever serious. I've never really seriously thought about my mortality."
"I don't think I've ever really thought about it outside of the fact that one day I will."
She slides his phone back across the table, so he can read the next question. "Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common," he reads, scrunching his brows together. "If they mean physically or from an outside perspective, I don't think there's much to say. Most things that we have in common are on the inside."
"There are some things," she says, ignoring the pang in her chest, "We both have curly hair," she reaches over and tugs on one of his curls, "and brown eyes," her hand slides down to rest on his cheek, "and… we're performers."
She's not sure why she did that. He looks like he's having trouble breathing as her hand drops to the table. The soft thud of her hand hitting the table snaps him back to reality, and he reads the next question.
"For what in your life do you feel most grateful?"
"Um…" Gina has to think for a second. "The fact that I have a friend that cares enough about me to set me up... even if with an idiot like you." He raises his hand to his chest in mock offense as he chuckles.
"I'm mostly grateful for the fact that my parents didn't kill me when I decided to drop out of college to pursue music. They've supported me, and they believe in me. I didn't think they would, especially not my mom. She always stressed to me the importance of getting an education. I get that, but school has never been for me, and music is something I'm good at."
"It takes a lot of courage to follow you're passions," she says sincerely. "Even if you're parents didn't support you. The people in you're life that matter would."
"Yeah, I know," he says. "Speaking of parents… If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?"
"Nothing, honestly," she says, thinking for a moment. "I hated being raised on the road and perpetually packing and unpacking boxes, sure, but that's a huge part of who I am. It taught me how to thrive anywhere and everywhere, even if I came off as a little abrasive and intimidating. I like the person I am now. It took me a while to feel that way, but I like me."
"I never thought you were intimidating," he pauses, mulling over something in his head. "You were just ambitious and self-assured, and that scares people, but you were never scary. Not to me." As if as an afterthought, he adds. "Ditto. I don't think I'd be me if I were raised any differently."
She doesn't have a chance to respond before he reads the next thing on the list. "Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible."
"Well, considering you already knew mine and I gave you the abridged catch up I think we're safe to skip this one."
"You're right," He says with a nod. "Oh, this one's interesting. If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?"
"Hm... I always wished I was better at making friends," she says. "I can thrive anywhere I go, yeah, but making friends is a whole other dance that I never quite mastered. I try so hard, but I think people still find me offputting."
"Nothing about you is offputting," she laughs at that. "I'm serious, Gi. You're smart, funny, and talented. There's nothing offputting about that. People just haven't been able to appreciate you're many great qualities." The words the way I do are left unsaid. "But if I could gain any ability, it would be… telling people how I feel before it's too late. I feel like I'm always missing chances with people."
For a moment, she wonders if he means her, but she doesn't ask, too afraid of what the answer will be.
II.
They leave the cafe with her question going unasked. They're silent for a bit as they walk. She wonders if she should actually ask if he meant her, but he clears his throat.
"Should we continue, or have you had enough of these questions?" He's looking at her, unsure, so she smiles, nodding her head. She doesn't want things to be awkward between them. She missed being around him more than she knew, so if these question would prolong their time together, she'd answer them all. "Okay, um, if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?"
"That's a big question," she says. "I'd wanna know when all is said and done, am I happy with all the choices I've made and will make? Was everything really worth it?"
"I get that." When she glances over at him, he's already looking at her. "If I'm honest, I'd prefer to live without knowing. I might be okay with change in the present tense, but I think knowing how much my life will change in the future would make my head explode."
The next question is much lighter, and for that, she's grateful. Even though Ricky was always the kind of guy she could tell things to, it feels infinitely different now that their lives have grown so far apart, and there has been some time since she's had to think about the feelings she tried to push down.
Looking at him now, she knows that she never succeeded. The feelings she had laid dormant in her heart, and in the last hour and a half, they'd shaken loose.
"Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?"
"I've always wanted to see a ballet in Paris. There's no real reason I couldn't except time and money," she says. "I could save up for it, but that would take time to plan. What about you, Ricky? What have you always dreamed of doing?"
"Well, I completed my bucket list of things I wanted to do before 18," he says, "and I never really thought much more past that. Right now, my dream is to make an album, and I'm going for it no matter how scary it is to me."
"Why is that scary if it's your dream?" She wonders out loud.
"Because putting my feelings out there, as easy as it is in song, is still scary to think about," Ricky says. "How many people are gonna hear it? Will they like it? Will they relate? Will they understand? There are so many questions I can't answer, but I still wanna make something great."
"I'm sure whatever you put out into the world will be received well," she says quietly. She reaches for his phone reading off the next question. "What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?"
She mulls over her answer and waits for him to give his answer, but he doesn't. She fills the silence with a response. "Getting into college all on my own is my greatest accomplishment," she says with certainty. "My mom said I should ask my brother if he has any connections in that world, but I didn't want connections. It felt like she didn't think I could make it there without help. I wanted to do it all on my own, and I did."
"Hard to believe that anyone could think that, let alone your mom. I don't think she thought that."
She'd spoken too soon. As soon as she thought she was getting closers to shore, a riptide pulls her back in. She's back to a space where she thinks that maybe he did love her back, or even just like her.
"I don't think she thought that either. It just felt that way at the time," she says, shaking her head. "What's your greatest accomplishment?"
"Greatest accomplishment…" there's a pause before he says. "Accepting change… I used to be so afraid of it, but it's a part of life, and good things can happen if you let change happen. It took me so long to learn that. That's a whole topic I'm not prepared to explore fully right now. Okay, so, what do you value most in a friendship?"
"Honesty," she says without thinking. She knows that's a hypocritical answer on her part. Though, she had told him once how she felt when it didn't go how she expected. She just pretended nothing happened. She supposes that he could've brought it up too, but why would he? He had a girlfriend at the time. He was happy. There was no more that needed to be said. "Lying makes things complicated."
"I'm gonna say understanding," he doesn't elaborate even though it seems like he wants to, but she knows what he means. It's one thing about their relationship that has always been present. Ricky understands her, and she understands him. "So, what's your most treasured memory?"
"That's easy," she says. Her lips turning upward. "My mom took me to Disneyland once when I was like seven. It was probably the best day of my life. It's the one day that I can remember she wasn't waiting by the phone for an emergency to happen. She was present all day. The pictures we took that day are my favorite of the two of us. We look happy, and we were."
"That sounds nice," he says, looking at her. There's a smile on his face that mirrors hers. "My favorite memory is when my dad took me fishing. It was just once, and I sucked at it." He chuckles at the memory. "We didn't catch a single fish, but I liked just spending time with him and bonding."
Silence washes over them again as they walk with those memories. Her phone buzzes just then.
mads: how's it going? you went radio silent.
gi: you told me to get off my phone. It's going fine.
gi: I'll tell you about it later.
gi: now leave me alone.
She must make a face at her phone because he's asking her if everything's alright. "Yeah, everything's fine. It's just Maddox asking me why I haven't updated her yet."
"Does she really think I'd harm you?"
"No," Gina says. "She's just nosey," He lets out a puff of air through his nose, trying not to laugh.
"Okay, next question," he says. "Well, this took a sharp privet. What is your most terrible memory?"
"My first dance recital. I threw up mid-performance," she says. "I still shudder when I think about it. I didn't go back for a month and that's only because my mom made me.
"Mine is when I found out my mom was leaving—or that she'd left," his tone sullen. "You know how that story goes, so I'll spare you the recap." He takes a breath before speaking again. "If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why? Oh, that's intense. We can skip it if you want."
"No, I'll answer," Gina says. "I'd spend more time with people I love. Why not enjoy their company while I'm here? It's sorta pointless to spend all my time stressing over school and dancing if I never get to use what I learned. And, besides, I can always dance. I don't need school to dance."
"I wouldn't change anything," he says. "I'm content with how things are going. I think I could die happy living this way."
Ricky hands her the phone as she reaches for it. "Okay, this one is a little bit lighter, definitely less morbid. What does friendship mean to you?"
"Not judging each other and being there when they need you," his answer is simple and to the point.
"Well, to me, friendship means being there for everything, even when things get hard," she says. "Anyone can be there for you in times of need, but not everyone can see you through you're worst and make it to the other side with you. Okay, that got kind of heavy. Next question. What roles do love and affection play in your life?"
"95 percent of my music is about love and affection, so it has a huge role in my life," he answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't know who I'd be without it."
"Well, I'm a dancer, so you need those things to make impactful art," she says in the same tone, "so I'd say a huge role."
She holds the phone up, and he reads the next thing on the list.
"Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items," he reads. "Oh, that's easy. I'll start. You're ambitious. When you want something, you don't hesitate to go after it. You make things happen."
She's never heard someone describe her ambitiousness that way. Everyone always makes it seem like she's a predator hunting for prey. They've never said it was a good thing.
"You don't judge," she says. "You give people chances, and don't let what people say about them get to you."
"You're bold," he says.
"You march to the best of your own drum."
"You've never really cared what people thought of you."
"You're kind."
"You're self-assured."
"You're understanding."
"You're kind," he says. "It may take a while for some people to see it, but you have a kind heart, Gi."
"You make people feel welcome," she says earnestly. When he quirks a brow at her, she continues. "You can be kind without being welcoming. Kindness is more about how you speak to people and singular actions, but you make people feel like they belong even when other people don't think they do."
"Oh," is all he says before clearing his throat and reading the next question. "How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people's?"
"My mom and I are close, but I rarely speak to my brother. So I'm half and half, I guess," she doesn't have to think hard about the second question. "I don't think my childhood was happier than most people considering I barely had one. I spent most of it moving. I wasn't unhappy, but I definitely don't think I was happier than other kids."
"Hm… not really close. We're not estranged, but we're not exactly calling each other up anytime divulging good things that happen," she nods. "I'd say my childhood was pretty good but not anything to be jealous of."
"How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?" She reads. Her answer fell from her lips as quickly as she'd asked the question. "We have a great relationship. she's still my valentine if that's any indication. I like our relationship."
"It hasn't been the same since my parents divorced. I wish it were better," he choked on the last word. "God, who wrote these questions? How are these supposed to make two people fall in love? Why are we even doing this?"
There's a sad edge to his voice still. She figures that he's probably thinking about how things were. She tries to lighten the mood. "It was your idea," her tone a little teasing. "But we don't have to finish if you don't want to."
"No, we can finish them. I just didn't expect there to be so many questions about family," he looks away from her then.
"Hey," she says, catching his attention. "We should get ice cream. It's hot out, and we're only a block away from my favorite ice cream place."
"Sure," a tinge of sadness still seeping into his voice. "I could go for a couple of scoops."
III.
They'd wandered over to the park across the street once they'd gotten their ice cream. Gina had gotten a double scoop of mint chip in a cup, and Ricky had gotten three scoops of triple chocolate chunk on a cone. She'd jokingly asked if he could eat all of it before it melted. He'd turned to her with the most serious look on his face and told her he would bite chunks out of it if he had to and laughed at the horrified look on her face at the prospect of chewing ice cream.
They're sitting on one of the benches watching passersby as they eat in silence.
"Okay, so," she turns to face him. "we've got a couple questions left, and now that you've practically inhaled half your ice cream—which is terrifying, by the way. How did you not get a brain freeze?" He shrugs as she continues. "I think we can finish the questions."
"Okay," he slides his phone out of his pocket, handing it to her. She doesn't understand how he can just freely hand his phone to her without worrying she'll try to snoop.
"Make three true 'we' statements each. For instance, 'We are both in this room feeling…'"
"Alright…" he says, taking another lick of his ice cream. "We are both on this bench feeling… nostalgic?"
"I guess I can agree with that," Gina nods slowly. "We've been talking a lot about the past. Okay, next one."
"We are both on this bench feeling understood." She doesn't say anything to that one. It's a given. "We are both on this bench feeling… feelings?" The last one isn't a statement. It's a question. She's felt so many feelings today, but she's not really sure what's safe to hold on to.
She lets his question hang in the air. Not sure how to even respond or why he'd even say that. Maybe he felt what she was feeling. She shakes that thought from her head. She thought he felt something for her when she'd confessed her feelings to him as tears streamed down her face, but she'd been wrong then, and she's probably wrong now. So, she skips to the next question.
"Complete this sentence: 'I wish I had someone with whom I could share…'" she reads, her voice quieter than it should be.
"Hey, wait, you didn't do three statements," he points out.
"There's no rule that says we have to both answer all of them," she shoots back. "Okay, you don't have to do this one. I'll do this one."
"I wish I had someone that I could share my thoughts with," she says, "I know that's a basic answer, but there's no one in my life that I can really trust with my thoughts. I feel like one look into my head, and they'd run for the hills."
"I don't think that's true," he says. "Nothing you could say would make someone run away… well, nothing you could say would make me run away."
God, why does he have to talk like that? If I didn't know that my feelings weren't gone, they definitely would've come roaring back to life after that. What the hell do I even say to that, she thinks to herself. She's gonna think herself into a panic attack if she continues thinking about what he's just said. So, she doesn't say anything. She just skips to the next question.
If he notices her inner turmoil, he doesn't comment.
"If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know?"
"It would be important for them to know that I'm not the best at communication, but I'm working on it," he says. "I've been most successful with talking through lyrics, so it might take me a second to do it with just words. They just get stuck on the tip of my tongue, no matter how badly I want to say them."
She wants to point out that there was a time when he told her everything with no problems. "I'd want them to know that I want someone to come around and be able to stay. I've had to leave so many people behind and gotten left by a few others that my life just seems like one big revolving door with new characters every few months. I want someone to stay."
He reaches for her hand then. His hand is a little cold from the cone that he'd just finished. His brown eyes are looking at her warmly. And it seems like he wants to say something, but he doesn't. He holds her hand.
After a long stretch of silence, he takes his phone from her and reads the next question.
"If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven't you told them yet?"
She doesn't get a chance to respond before he blurts something out. "I wish I had signed the card."
"What? What are you talking about?" she tilts her head, confusion written all over her face.
"I wish I'd signed the card when I dropped off the chocolates." It dawns on her then that he's talking about the chocolates she'd gotten from her mom.
"You were alone, and I knew you needed—deserved—something, so I called your mom and asked her to send them." There's a brief pause before he continues. "I didn't want to confuse you, so I didn't sign the card, and I wish I did. I liked you back then and I couldn't admit it to myself, and you were already gone when I finally did. I still feel that way. My feelings never changed. I know I should've said something earlier, but that just seemed like a lot to say to someone that I hadn't seen in a long time. I know you like to know where you stand with people, so… you don't have to say anything. I can shut up. In fact, I'll leave right now–"
She pulls him toward her, crashing her against his before he can give himself a stress-induced heart attack. At first, he doesn't move. The suddenness of the kiss leaving him frozen in his spot. After a moment, he kisses her back firmly. His hand resting on her jaw.
When she pulls back, she doesn't go far. Resting her forehead on his. His eyes are still closed, and his lips are still parted. His cheeks are tinted pink.
"Ricky," his eyes flutter open, and he watches her intently. "I liked you too… I still like you."
The smile that breaks out onto his face is almost blinding. He closes the space between them once more, and Gina doesn't think she's ever been this content before.