It had been a long day, and I was ready to see my boyfriend. It was around 6:00 PM when I got to his house. I parked my car by the sidewalk and made my way up to his front door, my purse slung around my shoulder. Before stepping inside, I made sure my long, brown ombre hair was still nice and bouncy and the coat of lip gloss I had put on was still pretty. It never took a lot of work to impress him, but I wanted to look good anyway.
Without knocking, I went inside. I smiled as I heard cracking and sizzling coming from the kitchen. I had gotten there just in time; my boyfriend was cooking dinner.
My boyfriend, Billy, poked his head out of the kitchen. He was around my height, and he had short, brown hair. He was still wearing his work clothes—a white buttoned-down shirt with long sleeves, a red tie, and black slacks.
"Ali?" he said, surprise in his voice.
"Hey, babe," I said as I took my heels off by the door. Billy never liked it when people walked around his house in shoes. He thought it made his floors dirty.
"I... I didn't know you were coming," he said quietly, sounding like he was
ashamed.
"Oh, you didn't, Mr. Detective?" I said slyly. I put on a big smile on my face so he would know I was only teasing. "I thought you had
psychic powers.
"
"What?" he said, smiling back and returning to his cooking. "Detectives...don't have psychic powers. That'd be awesome, though."
I walked up behind him. My lips were exactly level with his ear. I whispered, "Can I hug you?"
"Sure," he said in a simple tone.
I rested my chin on Billy's shoulder and wrapped my arms around his stomach. He immediately tensed up, but a few seconds later, he was relaxed again. I gave him a kiss on his jaw bone, right below his ear. He smiled, but kept his eyes on his culinary art.
"Whatcha making?" I asked, even though I knew full-well the answer.
"Stir-fry," he said.
"Mmm. Sounds delicious," I said, my lips just barely touching his ear. "I hope you have enough for me..."
"Yeah, definitely," he said.
"Good." My chin went back to his shoulder as I watched him work. One of the biggest perks about dating Billy was his cooking. It was impossible for him to conjure up anything that tasted bad. His incredible sense of detail was in full effect whenever he was at his stove or his grill.
"So, how was your day?" I asked. "Catch any bad guys?"
"Nope," he said. "Getting a few leads, though. How about you? How was
your
day?"
"Good. I sold a lot of art today."
"That's awesome, Ali," he said, touching my head with his. "That's really good."
"Yeah..." I said. "Give me a kiss?"
He turned his head and gave him a quick peck on the lips. A fire spread through me, but it disappeared as quickly as it began. I tightened my hold around his waist. It was happening again.
I was beginning to
need
Billy.
"Do you work tomorrow?" I asked.
"Only if they call me in," he said.
"Good..." I said, my lips nearing his ear again. In a deep, breathy whisper, I said, "Neither do I."
I could tell that I had just triggered a wave of chills in his body. Goosebumps were popping up on his arms.
"If it's alright with you," I continued, "I thought I could stay the night, and we could have a little f—"
"Stir-fry's done!" Billy announced. "I'm gonna go set the table, okay?"
"I'll help," I said.
"No, no, that's okay." He turned off the stove then walked over to the cabinets and took out two plates. "Thank you, though."
He went into the dining room and put the plates on the table, then walked back into the kitchen. I watched as he grabbed two forks and put those on the table.
"What would you like to drink?" he asked.
"Just water is fine," I replied.
He filled two glasses and put those on the table. I didn't know where it came from, but a pang of sadness hit me.
When Billy was four, he was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, a type of higher-functioning autism. If he'd had been diagnosed with regular autism, then, chances, are, we wouldn't have even met. I was Billy's first—his first date, his first kiss, his first girlfriend... Hell, I was probably the first girl to even
touch
him.
I had no idea what drew me to him in the first place. Sure, he was incredibly respectful and cuter than any boy I had ever seen, but there was something else about him, too. I loved ow good of a listener he was. I'd never had a person that I could just vent to. Billy always listened to what I had to say, and the best part is, he
remembered
what I had to say.
I met him at the gallery one night. He asked me about each of the paintings. Most customers were bored out of their minds when I talked about the paintings, but Billy was different. He was
interested
by where the paintings came from, who painted them, and where. Before I knew it, I glanced at my phone and I realized I had been talking to him for three hours. Billy told me that he'd be back the next day to buy something
I was so surprised when he asked me out on a date. I hadn't known him that well, but he seemed nice, so I said yes and gave him my address. He took me to a fancy restaurant. I was really impressed by his choice of clothes. He wore a suit and tie. All I wore was a denim jacket and yoga pants. I was surprised to see him standing by my front door; any other guy I had gone a date with would've just waited in his car. I was embarrassed by how informal my clothes were compared to his, and I told him this, but he said I looked beautiful anyway.
I had practically poured my heart out to him at the gallery, so I wanted tonight to be about Billy. I asked him about his job, and he told me that he was a detective. I was immediately fascinated by it. I told him that I was a big fan of police dramas on TV but he told me that it was a lot different. He didn't give me any examples. He just said, "It's a lot different from what you see on TV."
He tried asking me more about my job, but I always managed to turn it around on him, so that
he
would answer
my
questions. Billy never gave me a full answer. He would elaborate as little as possible. Rarely would his sentences reach past fifteen words. I asked him if something was wrong and he said no and that he was really glad that we were "hanging out."
I was not one to be friendzoned. When I wanted something, I would never take no for an answer, and there, at that restaurant, I wanted Billy.
I "accidentally" dropped my spoon. Being the gentleman he was, Billy scrambled to pick it up for me. As he set it back on the table, I gave him my most charming smile and put my hand on his leg, then said, "Thank you, sweetie."
The expression on Billy's face told me I had crossed a line. I immediately retracted my hand off him and returned to eating my pasta.
"You're welcome, Ali," I heard him say.
I looked up at him. He had a small yet friendly smile on his face, making me question whether touching his leg was just a hallucination or not.
Billy paid for our meals and left a pretty good tip for our waiter. We were completely silent on the way back. We pulled up in front of the house. It looked as if our date was over. No "When can I see you again?" or "I had a great time," or anything like that. I sat there in the passenger seat for a few seconds, then opened the door.
"Well, see ya," I said.
"Wait," Billy said. His voice was far from demanding. It sounded like he just randomly said the word "wait" instead of...well, telling me to wait.
"Yeah?" I said.
"I... I want to tell you something, Ali."
"Uhhh... Okay. Shoot."
"Okay, uh... Don't... Don't be freaked out by this, but..."
"What?" I said, my interest rising.
"This... This is the first date I've ever been on," he said.
I looked at him, not saying anything. My first thought was that he was lying. He was too handsome and polite for this to be his first date, and he pulled that night off so well, I assumed he'd been on lots of dates before.
"Oh," I said.
"Yeah. So I just wanted to say...thank you. I was really scared, but in the end...it was fun."
My hands went all over the place. I opened up his glove compartment and found a pen. I looked around some more, looking for a napkin, or even a tissue.
"Do you have anything I can write on?" I asked.
"Well... No, not really," he said, a sorry tone in his voice. "Why?"
"Here. Give me your hand," I told him.
He hesitated, but only for a second. Then he moved his hand over to me. With my left hand, I grabbed his wrist, and I instantly felt him tense up. I scribbled my cell phone number on the back of his hand. I scribed each number carefully and deliberately, so that he could see it clearly.
"Call me," I said. I leaned over to him and gave his cheek a kiss, then whispered, "I think it was fun, too."
I stepped out of the car slowly, in case he wanted to get a good look at my round ass. He started driving away once I was halfway to my door.
"Everything's ready," Billy said, startling me out of my memory.
We sat down and began eating. I immediately realized I had picked the perfect night to come over and eat dinner with him. His stir-fry was
amazing.
"Mmm..." I moaned after my first bite. "Billy, this is
so good.
"
He blushed and looked away sheepishly. "Thanks," he said.
"No, I'm serious," I said, putting my hand on his knee. "This is
really
good."
Our eyes locked. With any other person, Billy could hold eye contact with them for barely three seconds, but with me, he never looked away.
"I love you," I said.
"I love you too," he said back.
I let out a cute giggle and gave his knee a squeeze before letting go. "By the way, I don't think you answered me... Is it okay if I spend the night?"
"Yeah, definitely," he said, excitement in his voice.
"Good," I said. I returned to the Holy Grail that was my meal. My eyes rolled back into my head as I took another bite. "
So
good..."
When we were finished, Billy took everything into the kitchen. He began to rinse everything off and put it in the dishwasher.
I went behind him and hugged him again, giving him a big, long kiss on the back of his head. I made a "mwah!" sound as my lips let go.