Tragically beautiful, a paperback novel in her hands as she stared vaguely out the window. It was Friday morning and just as he knew she would be, she was sitting alone, an untouched chai with melted whipped cream before her.

Tragically beautiful was an understatement; there was something unearthly about this picture, something more than mere words could describe about the mixture of deep sadness and undeniable beauty that engulfed her. He was almost too nervous to approach her, but he’d come here purposefully to make sure that she was doing alright. After all, Michelle was his friend. Though neither of them were to blame---how was she to know that Alec was taken?---he somehow felt guilty by association that she’d been the “super slut” all along. And had he not felt so compelled by Greta despite being taken himself, which caused him to invite her to Long Island, she would have never found out the way she did in such a humiliating way. And if he were not two steps away from becoming just like Alec, he could have comforted her right then and there instead of feeling like he had something to hide.

He’d slept shitty that night. Immersed in a bad dream. Jess’ own face, contorted in painful teary-eyed disbelief, haunting him.

He cleared his throat and Greta turned, looking up. She looked at him as if she didn’t know him.

He was taken aback. “Um… hey.”

She looked down at her chai, a long moment passing between them where neither of them said anything. This was unlike her. But then, they hardly knew each other well enough for him to confidently be able to say what was like and unlike her. He’d simply become accustomed to her chattiness, and now that it wasn’t there to link them together, he missed it.

He thought hard about what the old Justin would do. “May I sit with you?” But he’d never known the old him to ask for anything. If he had wanted it, he would have taken it. Had the old J wanted to sit down he would have plopped into that seat and not have given a flying fuck whether it bothered or her not. If she had gotten mad and told him to go away, he would‘ve obeyed… whatever, no biggie… but he wouldn’t have beaten himself up the way he was beating himself up now, trying to figure out what was polite and what wasn’t. Spontaneity! That was the old Justin’s shtick. But now that he had asked he couldn’t possibly sit down without an answer.

He waited awkwardly, watched her close her book, place it gently beside her cup, then touch the condensation dripping down the plastic. How long had she been here? The ingredients of her blended chai were beginning to separate.

He was beginning to think she might never speak until finally her voice came, soft and slow, as if she were measuring the appropriateness of each word. “If the offer still stands… I’d like to meet you some time for lunch.”

If the offer still stood?! She must’ve been kidding! But then… Justin considered it. Did the offer still stand? He was more than delighted at the thought of sharing a meal with her, but this was one of those things where a person desperately wants something, and then once they have it they don’t know what to do with it.

She sensed his reluctance and added, “To make up for the other night. Not only was I late, I caused such a scene.”

“You didn’t,” he blurted as a way of reassurance.

“I did, and I’m so embarrassed.” She paused and took a deep breath. “She a friend of yours?”

“Michelle?”

“Is that her name?”

He nodded.

More silence as she let it sink in.

He spoke low, unsure if it was the right thing to say. “She honestly had no idea.”

And what looked like sympathy in Greta’s eyes, turned quickly into deep sadness. Did that make it better or worse, whether Michelle had known that Alec was taken? Either way, he had known that he was in a relationship and that’s what really mattered. She empathized with Michelle which made her feel pathetic. Between the two of them she was the true victim. She’d given him six years of her life!

She blinked rapidly to clear her tears, then looked at him expectantly. “Tomorrow afternoon work for you?”

Hoops with Trace in the morning. Brunch, then shopping with Jess which was usually an all day thing. Dinner with his family.

“Um…” Despite the tight schedule ‘yes’ was at the tip of his tongue.

“If not, I’m free Tuesday.”

But Tuesday was wedding planner day. “Um…”

His hesitance made her feel desperate. Is that why Alec cheated? Because she was so desperate and clingy?

“Oh God…” She pushed her chai to the other side of the table where he would have been sitting, had she invited him to take a seat. Her embarrassment mixed with the sight of the melted drink made her nauseous.

She sounded as though she felt absolutely awful, which made him feel awful. “Tomorrow’s perfect.”

She perked up. “Really?”

“Yeah. Just give me a call around noon and we’ll meet up somewhere.”

She smiled, relieved. “Okay.”

***

***

He told Jess he was sick, which meant lying to Trace and his family with the same lame excuse. Food poisoning, he’d said.

He planned on upholding the lie for a few days. By Wednesday he hoped to have it all figured out: this thing between he and Greta.

She’d called at noon like he told her to, and it was now two o’clock. Sushi at Chopsticks. He’d never tried anything more than a California roll, but she’d assured him that this place was awesome, a favorite amongst her and Izzy.

He felt silly, sitting in his car in the cramped parking lot checking himself in his rearview mirror. This was a new thing: checking himself before he went out… the old Justin was always confident that he looked good no matter what. It had been five minutes since he’d seen her run in, this was ridiculous making her wait because he was feeling insecure. Hadn’t he changed his shirt three times, and his shoes twice? You look fine!

He hurried in before he could contradict that thought, and found her sitting at the bar. Nice. This was one of those conveyor belt joints. He’d heard of them before but never been to one. Jess wasn’t a sushi person either.

“Hi.”

She smiled at his greeting. “Hey!”

He motioned to the bar where different sushi dishes circulated on the rotating belt. “This is cool.”

“And inexpensive,” she beamed proudly.

He took a seat next to her. “You look nice.”

She looked down at herself. The dress was new. Alec had seen every piece of clothing she owned; she thought it’d be inappropriate to go on a date wearing something she’d worn when she was with him. “Thanks. You too.” His blue shirt enhanced the color of his eyes.

They were quiet, other customers’ conversations enveloping them.

There was so much she wanted to say, she just couldn’t decide which topic she should go with. She’d never been good at dates. And he was feeling so guilty and nervous and relieved and happy that he was afraid that his jumbled emotions would make him say something stupid.

They reached for their glasses of water at the same time, noticed what the other had done, and laughed shyly.

This was going to be a long afternoon. But whether it was long and painfully awkward, or long and painfully delightful would be up to them.

He thought of that old William Blake poem he’d read in high school, ‘Eternity.’ A poem that encourages one to take joy as it is in the moment that you feel it, rather than dwell on past joys, or even the future. A poem that begs one to take joy for what it is: a fleeting emotion.

He held onto his cup and watched her drink instead, watched her lips tenderly hold the glass prisoner as the water rushed into her mouth.

There would be a reckoning. As there had been for Alec, there would most definitely be a reckoning. But he had to stop thinking about that. He had to let himself be happy, no matter the past, no matter the future, he had to take the present and the joy exactly as it was in this moment that he was experiencing it.

She set her glass down and noticed him still holding his. Slowly she reached over and took it from him, setting it down too. She pursed her lips, thought for a moment, then said, “Lets forget everything. Wednesday never happened. There is no Alec, there is no Michelle, it’s just you and me getting to know each other.” She smiled mischievously. “Are you down for 21 Questions?”

He laughed at the sudden change of pace. “Sure, why not?”

“Ask first, or answer first?”

He laughed again. It was as if she had asked him truth or dare. “Ask, I guess.”

“Cool. Shoot!”

He couldn‘t help but laugh some more. When was the last time he‘d done something this juvenile and actually thought it was cute, rather than immature? He went for the most generic question he could think of. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”

She answered quickly, easily. “Paint!” Then said reflectively, “But who really does what they like to do in their spare time? Everyone’s more concerned with their needs, no one ever focuses on what they want, what they desire. I think the question is more of… what do you do in your spare time?”

“Okay,” he leaned into her playfully, “What do you do in your spare time?”

She smiled. “I’m a nude model for a figure drawing class at a community college.” And added teasingly, “Among other things.”

He couldn’t help glancing at her bare shoulders, exposed beneath her dress’ thin spaghetti straps, imagining how the rest of her would look ‘exposed.’ And when he looked up she caught his eyes.

There was nothing more sexy than watching him, watching her.

Izzy had warned her not to be rash; she was on the rebound, but dammit if sex on the first date did not sound like an exciting, refreshing idea. She took a long drink of water hoping to cool the heat between her legs, but man oh man, did it burn so good.