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When I got back home, I pulled open social media to try to find the Boys & Girls Clubs’ page only to come face-to-face with my profile photos once again. I had avoided posting anything on social media since moving to Chicago besides the obligatory I’ve been traded photo. The sole reason for that being Sutton. Our photos were still on my page, even though she had erased any trace of us almost instantly after we had broken up. I had struggled to take them down, not wanting to part with the relationship I had thought we had.
As soon as everything hit the fan in San Diego, I realized that the relationship I thought we had was fake. She wasn’t any better than any of the other women that had dated me for my money. But as I stared at those photos, I still couldn’t bear to delete them. Not because I was still pining after a failed relationship with a girl that didn’t deserve me. I wanted to remind myself that I was worth finding someone that truly loved me for all that I was. Even for my stupid mistakes. I knew I was more than those actions, but I desperately wanted someone else to see that too. So instead of deleting them, I tapped into the Boys & Girls Clubs’ page and sent them a message asking to meet with their director.
I still had so much to work on when it came to bettering myself, and I wanted nothing more than to take steps toward being the man the younger version of myself would have dreamed of.
Maggie
Tommy pulled up outside my apartment at exactly six o’clock. His timeliness was yet another annoyingly perfect thing about him that blatantly juxtaposed with my inability to show up anywhere on time. Which was exactly the reason why I had planned to be ready thirty minutes early and was still barely on time.
The sun still shone high in the sky at this time of the summer as we drove through the city toward the South Side. Tommy’s car ate up the road as he slid in and out of traffic. Typically, any sort of aggressive driving made me uncomfortable, but Tommy’s driving wasn’t necessarily aggressive. It was another piece of who he was: confident. My mind was trying to ignore the fact that I hadn’t felt uncomfortable once in the passenger seat with him. Instead, I felt at peace.
Monica had asked if we would go out publicly tonight doing something casual, even though making a planned public appearance for show didn’t feel casual at all. She was thrilled to hear that we had already planned something. She agreed to our plan and told us that she’d make sure a couple of paparazzi were there to grab a few photos of us.
To say I was only a little disappointed that I would now be expected to play a role and it wasn’t going to be just me and Tommy again would be an understatement. The paparazzi part of this entire thing was what I was least looking forward to. It felt like I was walking into an ambush that I knew was going to be there but couldn’t avoid. My parents had been suspiciously silent about the photos of the two of us in his car after the club. I could only assume they hadn’t seen them yet, but once we were spotted together again, it was sure to be even bigger news than the first time.
Tommy pulled up across the street from the pizza parlor, and the two of us immediately noted the three guys with cameras hanging on the corner of the street, waiting for their big payday.
I sucked in a breath as I watched them, feeling like I was willingly walking into a lion’s den. A hand wrapped around mine, trying to reassure me with a squeeze. My breath started to come in quicker bursts as I imagined that group of men with cameras surrounding us, pressing in on us, a panic attack coming over me, and—
“What if we let them get their picture of us ordering the pizza and we just take it back to my place? Then we don’t have to go through the feeling of being in a fishbowl as they take pictures of us through the front glass of the store.”
Immediate relief flushed through my body at Tommy’s words, but part of me didn’t want him to realize how close to a panic attack I was. So I raised an eyebrow in surprise. I definitely didn’t think that Tommy would be concerned about me at all during this process. This whole thing was for him, and so far he’d shown nothing but distaste about the idea of us being forced to be together.
“I’d actually really like that,” I told him, feeling every bit of anxiety I previously had leave my body. Tommy’s hand slid into mine and gave it another squeeze to show his support. That hand squeeze was him telling me he had my back. It was enough to give me the courage to put my hand on the car door.
“Ready?” It was time. We couldn’t avoid this any longer.
The next few minutes were an out-of-body experience. Tommy ran around the car to open my door, but it was like I was watching in slow motion. As soon as he was outside the safety of the car, the paparazzi perked up, pulling their cameras up to their faces.
Flash.
I felt myself jump at the light, something I had never done before in my life. The door was pulled open and there was Tommy, holding his hand out for me. The look on my face was probably one of pure panic, but there was no way out.
Only forward.
To the pizza parlor.
Tommy gripped my hand tightly, keeping me close to him. His hand was like an anchor as I pulled myself out of the car and turned to cross the street with him. I kept my chin tucked down into my coat, trying my best to hide my face.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
My breath was coming in fast as we looked both ways before walking across the street. Every part of me wanted to run the rest of the way and into the safety of the pizza parlor, but Monica would probably string me up the flagpole at the stadium if I ruined this for the club. And then the shouts started.
“Tommy! Tommy! Who’s the girl?” The paparazzi closed in on us, their cameras like weapons.
“Tommy! How are you liking Chicago?”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
It was like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the air. I was a fish out of water, my mouth opening and closing as I tried to gulp air into my lungs. But nothing seemed to help as we shoved our way past the three men. Tommy’s arm wrapped even tighter around my waist, pulling me into his side. My body melded perfectly, giving me something to focus on besides the fact that three grown men were staring at me like I was a gazelle with a broken leg and they were the lions looking at their next meal.
The air didn’t change until we walked through the doors of that parlor. As soon as the bells rang overhead and the door closed behind us, I could breathe again. Tommy’s arm loosened around my waist, but I felt his hand stay firmly on the small of my back. I didn’t want to admit that I appreciated the presence of his hand. Even though I knew the paparazzi wouldn’t come inside with us, it still felt like we were in enemy territory and his hand was the only armor I had.
The pizza parlor was practically full, and every head turned toward us as we walked up to the counter to order. I could see a few people pull their phones out to take pictures, most of them probably not knowing who we were, but the fact that paparazzi chased us inside gave them the impression that we were someone important. The girl behind the counter took our orders, her eyes glancing between our faces, trying to figure out what celebrities were standing in front of her.
