Wherever the Dandelion Falls (24 page)

I'd gone on a date with a girl, and it had been wonderful. So wonderful that I had asked her to go out again.

On Wednesday she took me to a delicious Mediterranean restaurant in the Castro and we shared a platter of hummus, olives, pomegranate chicken, and spanakopita. Later we had a glass of wine at a wine bar and shared a slice of tiramisu. By the end of the evening I was stuffed with all things delicious, including Faye's attention.

When she dropped me off at my door again, I suddenly didn't feel so full. Not in my chest at least. I was hungry for something, and as I saw her lips spread in a serene smile, I knew what it was. My stomach was suddenly empty enough to house butterflies.

I really wanted Faye to kiss me.

My heart sped up as she leaned toward me, extending her arm to my back.

But then her head moved past me as she wrapped both arms around me in a car hug.

I lifted my arms as best I could and held her there, hoping she would turn it into more than a hug. I inhaled her scent as I did: flowers and fresh cotton and hairspray and lipstick.

She pulled back and I let one last, strong hope beat through my chest. But she pulled all the way back into her seat.

"Can I take you out again this weekend?" she asked.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. A foolish, flickering thought passed through my mind, telling me I should kiss
her
. But I didn't have the guts.

Faye smiled. "Have a good night, Riley," she murmured.

I mustered a smile and got out of the car, fumbling less with my keys this time. I couldn't understand why Faye hadn't kissed me.

At the end of our third date, Faye pulled up in front of my apartment and kept the engine idling. She knew better than to invite me back to her place for a drink, yet there was something longing in her face that I wanted her to voice. I was pretty sure it was the same thing I was feeling.

I was so relieved when she looked at me with a confident yet somehow bashful smile as she asked, "May I kiss you goodnight?"

The way she asked, with such respect, hope, and gentleness, made me melt into my seat.

"Yeah," I said, feeling my body flush with excitement and the compliment that was her adoration and respect.

"Okay," she said, smile widening as she leaned halfway forward over the armrest, then paused to extend her hand up to my face.

She cupped my cheek, looking into my eyes, a look of reverence that made her smile fade but her eyes sparkle even more. Then she leaned forward more, closing her eyes as her lips met mine.

Relief and excitement rushed through me. As we pressed closer together, she hummed as though she'd been thinking of kissing me all night and now she could go home happy. That happiness flooded through me and I found my lips moving with hers. It had been years since I'd kissed a girl, and I had forgotten how soft their lips were, how delicate and coordinated their movements could be with mine.

Her nose nudged against my cheek and she threaded her hand over my ear into my hair, holding me there without force or expectation. She just held me, and I felt all the city lights dance along my skin, lighting up inside me. It was gentle and warm and just the right amount of wet. It was the best first kiss I'd ever had.

After a few moments, just as I was preparing to slip my tongue along her lower lip, she pulled away, but kept her hand in my hair. I opened my eyes and noticed hers seemed darker and more alive.

"Thank you," she breathed. "I really wanted to do that."

The city lights were still abuzz as I said, "Me too."

I suddenly found all the confidence I had been lacking before as I reached up into her hair and pulled her back to my mouth. She put up no resistance, closing her eyes again as our lips joined together. This time I slipped my tongue out quickly, and I felt a tiny flinch of surprise from her in response. The corner of her mouth twitched before she responded by slipping her tongue out to tease mine. It was so soft and slippery. I wanted to feel it against my lips and my tongue until I had learned her mouth like I knew her face.

Our kisses became more heated as I dared further into her mouth. I found myself letting out tiny hums of gratitude as we made out. She was an amazing kisser. I just wanted to keep kissing her the whole night.

But then her hand dropped down to my waist and curled around my body under my jacket. It reminded me of Vance and his subtle sense of entitlement to my body, his attitude that I was disposable.

Logically I knew Faye was nothing like Vance. I knew that if I gave the slightest signal of distress or discomfort, she would stop. But that didn't stop the anxiety that crept up at the tightening of her hand around my side. That flicker of fear made me pop my lips off hers and sigh, signaling I was done kissing for now.

She got the message and nuzzled my cheek before murmuring, "Have a good night, Riley."

I liked the way my name sounded in her breathless mouth.

"You too," I whispered, kissing her on the cheek in response. "Sweet dreams."

She hummed as she pulled away, sighing as she said, "How could I not, after kissing you?"

The lights went crazy in my belly and I blushed. I looked at her, seeing her own lipstick smeared on her face and giggled.

"You have some..." I said, making little circles in front of my mouth to tell her there was lipstick all over her face.

She giggled and flipped down her visor, doing her best to wipe the smudges off with a tissue from her center console. Then she took another tissue and leaned over to wipe a smudge off my face.

"Can I take you out again this week?" she asked when she was done.

I gave a happy bob of my head, and her smile widened.

And then I thought about how she had been so generous and patient with my previous uncertainty and felt the need to return all her adoration.

"Actually, no," I said, "I want to take
you
out."

She grew almost bashful at that. "I'd love that."

I darted across the arm rest one more time to peck her on the cheek. "Goodnight," I chirped, knowing if I stayed any longer I would never leave and we'd make out until she got a ticket for double parking or ran out of gas.

"Goodnight," she echoed.

I opened the passenger door and hopped down from my seat, throwing one last giddy smile over my shoulder as I walked up the steps to my apartment.

I waited for Faye outside the aquarium, just like we'd agreed. It was a beautiful day, and I was confident we'd find the Bush Man and try to get an interview. We didn't know if he'd talk to us, let alone make sense. After all, he hid behind a shrub and scared tourists for a living. Some might have called him an entrepreneur, but many people just thought he was crazy, if not entertaining. I liked to think he was all three.

Faye was ten minutes late, which I was realizing was just her style. She was always embarrassed and apologetic about it, but late nonetheless. She looked cute today in her a sundress and cardigan. She looked young. In fact, some days I had a hard time believing she was twenty-five. If she didn't have such nice tits, I would have wagered that she'd never gone to a bar in her life where she hadn't been carded.

The image of her in a bar to begin with was a bit funny. She'd be so nervous, no doubt clinging to her friends or boyfriend until she'd had enough alcohol to loosen up and ease away from them.

Faye gave me a nervous smile as she approached, not knowing how to greet me other than with an awkward wave of her hand. I would have gone in for a hug if I didn't think that would spook her. I complimented her dress and suggested we walk north toward all the tourists.

We had walked almost the whole length of the Piers without luck. She was starting to get discouraged, saying, "Maybe I'm not supposed to be focusing on this anyway..." I clucked my tongue and told her that she needed to build up her tolerance to disappointment, not to mention cultivate her sense of adventure, if she wanted to be a journalist. She took a nervous breath and nodded, walking another block without making eye contact.

I kept looking at her, wondering if I'd hurt her feelings by calling out her shyness. But I couldn't read her face at the moment. She was oddly blank. I kept looking though because she was easy to look at.

Suddenly a crazed homeless man darted out in front of me and yelled, rattling what I had seen out of the corner of my eye as a potted plant. It took me by such surprise, I shrieked and leapt back, holding my hands up to prevent an attack.

Then I realized people around me were laughing and Faye was doubled over laughing. "He got you so good!" she chortled, putting her hand on my shoulder.

I walked away a few yards, angry about being startled and wanted to slap everyone who had laughed. But I deserved it. I'd gone looking for something and hadn't noticed when it was right in front of me because I'd been staring at Faye. She had seen it coming, hadn't she?

Faye recovered from her laughing fit and her face fell, realizing I had been more scared than she thought. My shoulders were still hunched up and my heart was pounding. She looked appropriately sheepish and concerned as she lowered her voice and said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed."

I put my hand to my face, hoping that I wasn't going from white to red. I was stunned at how scared I'd been and how calm and concerned Faye was now.

"It's okay," I mumbled. "I need to watch where I'm going."

"Shall we ask for an interview?" she asked, pointing back to where the Bush Man was crouching a few yards away.

I nodded and followed her back to the Bush Man, who was positioned behind his shrub again.

"Excuse me," Faye said, her voice too quiet to be heard.

Without me telling her she needed to, she cleared her throat and tried again. "Excuse me!"

The man turned around, looking her up and down with a raised eyebrow. I realized he was looking to see if she was holding out money, since he was frequently tipped by tourists for his antics. Faye didn't have any money in her hands, so he turned forward, ignoring her.

"I was wondering if I could interview you?" Faye asked, voice braced with bravery.

"Seventy fie," the Bush Man said.

"What?"

"Seventy fie dollah," he said.

"Seventy-five dollars?"

“Thas how much it cost."

"Oh... Okay," Faye said, dejected. "Thanks anyway."

She was so ready to take no for an answer, I was disappointed.

I stepped in. "Seventy-five dollars is a bit steep for an interview," I said, frowning down at him.

"Thas how much it cost," he repeated, gruff as he held the drying branch in front of where he crouched on an upside down bucket.

I put my hand on Faye's arm, apologizing for his rudeness and our disappointment. She shrugged as we turned away.

She sighed. "Maybe I'm supposed to be focusing on other things."

"Like what?"

Faye shrugged, looking down at the pavement blotched black with gum. "I have Isaiah..."

“A boyfriend isn't a hobby."

"I know..." Faye said, sounding ashamed. "I mean... I play with my cat sometimes when I'm stressed," she shrugged, as though it was all she could think of.

"You have a cat?" I asked, adoring the image of Faye snuggling up to a cat when she was overwhelmed or lonely.

"Yeah," she said, smiling at the thought of her furry companion. "Schrodinger. He's three. Isaiah gave him to me as a kitten."

"That's sweet," I said. A cat seemed like a thoughtful gift for someone like Faye. "I love cats."

"You'll love Schro then," she said, smiling. "He's a sweetie. He snuggles up on
everyone
."

"How am I supposed to feel special if he snuggles up on
everyone
?" I asked.

At that Faye stopped on the sidewalk, looking at me with sparkling eyes. "How do people you date know they're special if customers see you naked all the time?"

If she had phrased it differently or put any hint of judgement into the question, I would have been offended. She was defending a
cat
, after all. But the way her head was tilted told me she was genuinely curious about my answer, though she knew she'd made a fair point.