A Love Story: Part I

So, in order to celebrate our engagement anniversary (6 years!  Woot!), I decided to write out the beginning of my love story with Steve, romantic-historical-fiction style.  Here's the first part--enjoy!

A Perfect Beginning

A Love Story

Not-So-Loosely Based on True Events

 “So, Jewel, what do you think of Steve Busch?”

I was surprised at the question, coming as it was from my roommate, Heather.  I considered the question carefully as I shot a sideways glance at her, sitting cross-legged on her bed across the room she and I shared.

“Well, I know what you told me from when you liked him last semester, and he’s really fun to hang out with in acting class, but I haven’t really thought of him other than that,” I answered, not sure what she was getting at.

“I think you two would be good together,” she said casually, turning a page in her book.

“What?  Nah, I’m pretty sure he just talks to me in class because there’s no one else he knows.  Besides, he knows I’m going on a mission, so I’m as safe as can be.  He’s funny, and I like flirting with him, but…” I shrugged.

“So?  You should go for it.  I think he likes you,” she smiled knowingly.

“Wishful thinking!” I laughed.  “Honestly, since word’s gotten out that I’m putting my papers in, I’ve been asked on more dates in the past two weeks than I have in the past two years combined!  I’m safe to flirt with now.  Nothing more.”

“If he asked you on a date, would you go with him?” She was more serious now, genuinely wanting an answer from me.

“Sure.  If he asked me, I’d go with him.  But I really don’t see it going anywhere.” I reiterated.

“Okay.  That’s all I needed to know!” She then went back to her studying, still smiling secretively, as I followed her example and turned back to my biology book, shaking my head incredulously.

Seriously?  Why would my roommate want to set me up with someone (whom she had previously sort-of dumped, nonetheless) when she knew that I was specifically not focusing on boys?  In fact, I was more than done with boys for now—after some rough and very confusing experiences with guys in the previous semesters, I had set two goals for myself.  The first was not to kiss anyone until after my 21^st birthday—an easy enough accomplishment, seeing as how my birthday was just over a month away and I didn’t have any interesting prospects….or, at least, prospects interested in me. 

Either way, I knew it wasn’t going to be a temptation to break that goal.

The second was more permanent—I was for sure not going to marry anyone I had met at Eastern Arizona College.  It was a small school, and with this being my third year at a two-year college, I felt as though I had already scouted all of the available options and decided against them for one valid reason or another; the biggest reason, of course, being the fact that I was genuinely committed to the idea of going on a mission.  I had received some strong answers that this was what I needed to do come May, when the semester ended, and was in the midst of working on my papers as we spoke.

An image of Steve flashed through my mind as I considered the idea of dating him.  Tall (a couple of inches taller than my 5’11” frame, in fact), slender, spiked blonde hair, clear blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled—he was good-looking, I’d give him that, but not my type.  And I was pretty sure I wasn’t his type at all—he was smart, quick-witted, interesting, and creative.  Me, I was just a tall, klutzy Molly Mormon who liked to laugh at his jokes but who could never come up with something clever in response.  Definitely not his type.  He was fun to flirt with, nothing more.

I shook my head again, ridding my mind of his image, and tried to focus once again on my biology homework.

The next day as I walked into Acting 101, Steve was already there, smiling at me mischievously.  Trying not to feel awkward about the fact that I had been talking about him with my roommate the night before, I struggled to remain casual.

“Hey,” I shrugged as I sat down in my normal seat next to him.

“Hey,” he responded, his smile widening.

“What?” The look on his face made me suddenly feel awkward and unsure of myself—something I wasn’t used to experiencing around a guy I usually was so comfortable with (which in itself was nothing less than a miracle for me, the most consistently awkward female I knew).

“Nothing.”  He was positively grinning now.

“I don’t believe you.  What’s up?” I insisted.

“Okay--don’t be mad, but…”

“What?” I was starting to get curious.

“You have a wilted flower stuck in your hair.” He reached behind my ear and pulled out the remnants of an orange daisy.  One that I had stuck behind my ear earlier in the day and forgotten about until now.

My face flushed.  “Oh, that.  I saw it and thought it was pretty earlier and, well…”

He laughed—not a mocking laugh, just a genuine expression of humor.  “It’s okay.  No worries.”

I smiled at him in relief.  “Don’t think I’m dumb,” I warned.

He smiled in return.  “Of course not!  It’s refreshing.”

I flushed again, realizing that if he had known that I had turned a very enthusiastic cartwheel just before picking said flower, he might think otherwise.  I started to say something to try to change the subject away from my cartwheel-turning and flower-picking tendencies, but class started then, and aside from our typical whispered remarks about what we were learning, we didn’t get the chance for more conversation until class was over. 

As I stood up and picked up my books he came closer to me.  “So,” he began casually, “Young Ambassadors are coming this Friday.”

I grimaced.  “Don’t remind me.  I got asked to go on a date to it.”

“Oh.” Steve looked a little flustered.  “Who asked you?”

“Jarom Mason* (*Name has been changed to protect the innocent).  My old roommate has a major crush on him, and I know he knows it, so I’m not sure why he asked me in the first place, except to get to her.  I personally find him super creepy.” I made a face as Steve held the door open for me.

“So why’d you say yes?” He was genuinely curious, I could tell.

“Well, I didn’t want to be rude.  Besides, any time a guy talks to me, my brain pretty much shuts down all except for the most basic mental functions.”  I grinned up at him as we began walking to our next class together.

“What about me?” He acted affronted.

“Oh, you don’t count.  I’ve always been comfortable around you!” I nudged him with my shoulder.

“Gee, thanks a lot!”

“Oh, come on.  You know what I mean!” I laughed, but he stopped walking suddenly.

“No, really—you don’t think I count?  What if I took you on a date on Saturday night? Would you be uncomfortable then?”  He insisted.

I stopped, surprised.  “Oh!  Well, I’d love to go on a date with you….if you wanted….I mean…” I stammered.

“Okay, then.  Saturday night it is.  And don’t act like you’re not just going for the free dinner.” He winked at me.

Relieved that he wasn’t genuinely offended by my remarks, I laughed. As we continued on our way to our next class, I reflected on how unusual it was for me to feel so absolutely comfortable conversing with a guy like this; Steve would make witty remarks in his typical fashion, and although I always felt that my wit in response was usually lacking, he still brought out the best sides of my conversational skills.  It would definitely be interesting to see what our conversation was like on our date, that was for sure.