Female Gaze

13 | is this okay?

RHETT

          I think I can safely say I've never had a girl cry on their first date with me, but I guess there's a first time for everything.

          I don't make a habit out of going on dates, in part because I don't have time to dedicate to such frivolous things—hockey keeps me busy enough as is, not just because of practice on and off the ice, and then there's my college work—and also because it involves a level of commitment and long term plans and dreams I'm not particularly interested in.

          It's different with Brie, of course, both thanks to the nature of our . . . arrangement, but also because of our history. Our first date happened years ago, back when we were young and naive and, in my case, didn't know what we had until we lost it, so I should know what to expect.

          I thought I was doing the right thing by bringing her to my home away from my house, a place where Andy and I eat often because the comfort food Mona's team serves us is both homely and nutritionally adequate to our meal plans. I figured it would be best to not take any chances, as I didn't want her to feel out of place in some place filled with rich snobs, but I didn't think about the possibility of this making her erupt into sobs instead.

          I never know what to do when people randomly start crying in front of me, which hasn't helped my reputation in the slightest. It makes me come off as insensitive, like I can't possibly care any less about other people's feelings, but in reality it's purely thanks to awkwardness.

          Most of the time, there's nothing to be done or said about what's making people upset, so all I can do is sit or stand there and let them do their thing instead of turning into yet another factor that intensifies their already heightened emotions. My tendency for inaction and passiveness can be valuable sometimes, especially during situations where I definitely shouldn't get involved (see: arguments that don't concern me, as rare as they are), but, for some reason, it's always the crying that finds a way of haunting me.

          I don't even know why Brie is crying, as she was fine just a minute ago, but I wrapped my arms around her like a protective cocoon purely out of instinct.

          I fear this will be another of those automatic gestures that don't have to mean anything but then end up being a much bigger deal that they need to be, like my keeping my hand on her thigh long after the guys from the team left, but it feels strangely right. Her body molds against mine like it's meant to fit there, just perfectly, her delicate curves pressing against the sharper edges of my torso and hips, and she's so warm.

          "I'm okay," Brie weakly states, convincing a grand total of zero people. Her fingers dig into my waist as she holds on to me for dear life, never hard enough to actually hurt me or even leave a bruise behind, but with just enough pressure to dent my soul. "I'm just strangely emotional today. It's been a long day and nice people make me feel a bit overwhelmed. I mean that in a good way! It's like . . . those people who are nice just because, not with ulterior motives, you know? You're very nice and welcoming. I'm not used to that."