Love In The Elevator?

If I can’t handle guys my own age, then how can I possibly go toe to toe with a guy who’s almost a decade older than me? Some people say that age doesn’t matter blah blah blah…but—they’re wrong.  Dead wrong.

Stop lying you liar.

Age aint nothing but a number—chile please. Get that outta here! Right now. This second. This instant!

At the same time I like it, it’s……alluring? Does that make sense? I’m such a Green Girl when it comes to things like this that I kinda go off the deep end and drown until I mentally save myself. So before I can completely go into critical analyzer mode I mentally pinch myself and remind that brain that he’s just a guy and I’m a girl so there’s no reason why I can’t talk to him without drooling buckets.

Only this requires me to actually acknowledge him. Look him in the face I mean.

Fake it til ya make it.

I swivel to the right and give him something, a smile, half of a smile, I can’t remember, “I’m great how are you?”

“A lil tired actually, “ oh no…I feel a conversation coming on, “I got home late and---“

I don’t want to hear all of this, but I nod and smile sweetly. He’s talking to me, that’s good.

Right?

And just when I’m about to give a witty joke the elevator dings and the doors slide open. Three people walk out, all with their eyes on the floor.

This elevator is a bastard.

“Finally,” his voice….I see angels lifting him up.

I step into the elevator first and try to keep a respectable distance from him, what I actually do is cower into the right corner and pray that I don’t look like a psycho.

He steps in too and leans against the back wall a few inches away from me, his head turns to the right where I am, “You ready for this final at 2?”

I try to control my breathing, “Um not really” nervous laugher, “But I will be,” tuck piece of hair behind of ear that doesn’t exist.

“Cool, hey nice shirt by the way,” I blush and look down at it, there’s all these juvenile symbols on it like a iridescent peace sign, a white colored dove and the words Peace, Love, and Hope repeating itself in the background.

“Thanks. Nice….” Everything, “shoelaces.”

Doi! I resist the Homer face palm and bite my lip to hold back my nervous smile as he laughs, “That’s funny.”

It’s not really.

Oh my god why isn’t this elevator moving?

Did we even press the button?

“Looks like we forgot to do something,” how did the both of us forget to press a button? I walk over and jab at the circular four and then walk back.

“Yeah, I guess finals are making us forget stuff,” he laughs again, God I love his laugh.

“Definitely,” why is this handsome man still talking to me?

“any plans for the summer?”

Like a wedding? In Europe? With you?

“Summer school, you?”

“I’m staying here for the most part and working full time, but I plan on traveling to Florida for a week. My mom is bugging me about visiting her,” I’m looking at his face now and his lips spread into another smile, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen her.”

I take it that he’s good with his mother. Always cool.

“Sounds like a plan. Where do you work?”

“If I tell you I might have to shoot you.” Wink, smile.

Gah, I need to get out more.

And just when I’m about to get completely comfortable and say something witty like, ‘oh? How is Chippendales working for you?’, the elevator opens.

Are you kidding me?

And that chance I just had? Yeah it’s gone. Because he slides out and I do too and he walks backwards and gives me the warmest-coolest-most-laid- back-I’m-gonna-make-your-panties-wet kinda smile, “Alright, I’ll catch ya later Jessie.”

Jessie, is that my name?

I slurp some drool back and give him a dopey smile and  a half wave, “Later Mike.”

He disappears around the corner and I pay homage to his long legs and amazing calves that he’s chosen to reveal by way of basketball shorts.

“That man is fi-yah.” I say to no one in particular.

I’m a little crestfallen too, it’s like I’ve gotten nowhere but somewhere at the same time. I didn’t get his number, his social security digits; his face book….all I got was a two-three minute conversation about absolutely nothing.

And I’m walking on air.

I’m two things at once. But that’s ok; it just means that I’m in tune with my emotions and all that junk.

I roll my shoulders and straighten my back up because there’s nothing I should be sad about really. I remind myself that I’ve got it, even though I don’t know what ‘it’ is and I round the opposite corner headed to my destination.

It’s crazy though, I’ve made up in my mind that I’m not going to blatantly pursue this guy and yet I’m still thinking I wonder what he’s going to wear in our dream wedding.