I’m starting this post where I left off. Start here if you think you’re ready for my drama.
“I think we should date,” he said finally.
“Say that again?” I said in between mouthfuls of a Sourdough Jack. Finishing my bite, I laughed and said, “Sure, sure, now you want to date.” He couldn’t be serious after almost a year of the “let’s-just-be-friends” bit.
Looking at me with an incredibly handsome face, he said, “I was talking to my friends and I can’t think of any reason why we shouldn’t be dating.” I let him continue as I repeated in my head kissed dating goodbye, kissed dating goodbye, oh man he’s gorgeous, kissed dating goodbye. ”We didn’t date to begin with because of Cowboy being your ex, but he’s not even a close friend of mine anymore and I…” He trailed off before grabbing my hand, “I want to be more than just your friend.”
Gulping I tried to remain strong as thoughts zoomed in and out. He’s your friend. You don’t need a boyfriend. He’s amazing. He’s everything you’ve every wanted in a boyfriend. Dating would complicate everything. Dating would give you someone to wear that blue gown for. Dating would be incredible. Stop, stop, he’s your friend. I heaved in a breath before responding. ”I think we should stay friends,” I exhaled.
Sighing he pushed the hair back from my eyes tucking it behind my ears. ”Alright, if that’s what you want. I think we could try a few more weeks as friends.”
So…do you really think I was stubborn enough to keep Haus at bay, all 6’5″ hunk-o-rific-freshly-tanned-hazel-eyed-man-o-my-dreams? Well most of you know that I’m now Mrs. Haus so I guess it’s not a big surprise. From the moment he brushed his fingers over the back of my ears, it was over. Sure, we went back to the dorm, joked with my roomie about this and that, said goodbye as if we were “just friends”. The next morning, however, did I hold his hand on the way to class? Yep. Let him sneak a kiss, peck if you will? Yep. Enjoy every single goodbye embrace? Double yep.
Kissed Dating Goodbye. Great book. Not for me. Anyhoo, enough of the mushy girl talk. Now you know that Haus is pretty darn persuasive and still to this day gets away with pretty much whatever he wants whenever he tucks my hair behind my ears.
So… where were we? About the time I went goo-goo for Haus, I also transitioned majors and couldn’t be happier in my English-Writing classes. I finished out my sophomore year with my pre-med days behind me and packed up a couple suitcases for my next conquest… summer in Phoenix.
It’s a little known fact that through the first two years of college I was part of an outrageously famous chic band, The Babes. Well, maybe not outrageously famous, but we may have had a little following. I can count my mom as a groupie, right? With my roomie, Ames, and another girlfriend, Libs, I spent most of my free time between classes practicing and weekends singing at coffee shops and pizza parlors. We were just three girls and a guitar and even produced an album, The Three A.M. Decision.
When Ames told us near that end of our sophomore year that she decided to transfer to the University of Texas in Austin, home of the Longhorns and her boyfriend, the three of us worked a deal with our parents. We would celebrate our last summer together at Ames’ parents house in Phoenix. I waitressed at Tony Romas, the Rib King, Ames temped, and Libs worked at a Phoenix resort. We wrote ridiculously sappy letters to our boyfriends (now husbands) and, when not recording hilarious home music videos, played gigs at a coffee shop in town.
I can’t tell you how amazing it was to have that time with them that summer. The best summer that I can remember. I returned to Whitworth that fall very tan, ready to start a new job as a Dorm Resident Assistant (RA), and even more ready to see my Haus. It would be a few weeks before I realized how much I missed Ames. Could I really get mad at my BFF for wanting to transition from a two-year long distance relationship to seeing her dude every day? The Babes broke up after two satisfying years and I faced my junior year.
Junior year ROTC. The hardest year of training. Constant evaluations. My first Army injury E.R. trip.
To be continued…