Page 51 of Jacob Michaels is Not Crazy

“Just tell me.” He said.

“Before you come inside,” I grabbed his hands in mine and held them between us, “I just wanted to say that I want to be very clear about what this is and where it’s going.”

“Okay.”

“One, I don’t know what it is.” I shrugged, keeping my eyes on his. “Two, I just want you to know that it needs to slow down.”

“How is it going too fast?” He frowned pitifully.

“It’s going too fast because I’m working out who I am, Lucas,” I said. “How can I know what this is, what we are, if I don’t know who Robert Wagner is? I need you to give me space to figure that out before we dive into this head first. Is that okay?”

Lucas seemed to examine me for a few moments, his eyes on mine as we stood there, holding our hands between our bodies. Was he trying to see if there were any premonitions in that head of his?

“That’s okay.” He nodded.

I let a smile overtake my face.

“Good.” I leaned down to give him a quick kiss. “Because being boyfriends is okay. We don’t have to rush that, right?”

He grinned widely.

“Is that what this is?” He whispered, stepping up onto the porch in front of me. “We’re exclusive, babe?”

“Don’t push it.” I shook my head, amused.

“Well?”

I looked around.

“Who else am I trying to be with?” I relented.

“Ya’ know,” He laughed, “I’ll take it.”

“You’re so easy.”

“For you.”

“Lord.” I rolled my eyes. “Come in here and have dinner with us.”

Lucas chuckled as I drug him through the front door, both of us tangled up in each other’s arms. Once inside, Oma hollered that she was still working on dinner, so Lucas and I got a fire started and curled up on the couch together. And we just talked. Okay, maybe we kissed a bit, too, but we talked. Not about anything particularly important but we didn’t fill every moment with groping and kissing and lusting after each other. We acted like two adults trying to discover each other and decide if there was more between us than just how our bodies reacted to each other’s.

Dinner with Oma was a raucous affair, with Oma regaling us with stories about how proud she was when I was a teenager and acting in all the plays and doing solos in the choir. Lucas admitted how he always had eyes on me when we were in high school together, watching me, wondering if we could have ever been friends. I didn’t know any of those things about my Oma and my, I guess, now, boyfriend. I was an oblivious teenager, I guessed. Maybe I was a bit of a dick. Self-possessed and obsessed. My eyes had always been on the prize of leaving Point Worth.

And here I was sat, in Oma’s kitchen, not wanting to be anywhere else but with the two people I was with currently. I didn’t want to be in Hollywood. I didn’t want to be on set, shooting another movie, on another stage, performing another song. I just wanted peace and quiet and love. Becoming an adult and gaining experience changes priorities, gives credence to the simple things that youth takes for granted. When you get right down to it, being with people you actually like, or even love, and having a full belly, and a warm house, and not a care in the world beats fame and fortune hands down.

After dinner, Lucas and I spent a few minutes on the porch, kissing and acting as though we were the only two people in the world. Then I made him leave before I begged him to stay the night again. We didn’t have to have sex every day, sleep in each other’s beds every night. Space and time are what makes relationships grow stronger if they are meant to do so, after all. Proximity breeds familiarity, but longing to be with someone when they’re not near indicates how deep that love is. So, I sent Lucas on his way. And I was already missing him as I watched his truck drive away in the dark.

“Oma,” I announced as I entered the kitchen and leaned against the doorjamb.

A figure scurried away into the cabinet under the sink. Probably Lena. I looked over at the slightly ajar door and then back to Oma. She gave an innocent smile.

“I don’t want to go back to Hollywood.”

“Well,” Oma blinked a few times, “that’s something.”

“I want to stay here,” I said. “For now.”

Oma just stared at me.