Act II: The Waiting

The first time I saw Houston, I remember him looking… interested. He carefully chose his seat next to me and glanced over occasionally. On our first day of painting he “conveniently” set up his easel next to me. For the next week or two, during class, he asked me about myself and told a few awkward jokes. I remember thinking, “this boy is really cute, but looks too young—maybe I should set him up with my little sister”.

On a Wednesday afternoon I went into my bedroom and noticed that I had missed a call. Guilt struck me. There was a church committee meeting I missed two days prior. The phone call must have been from Abby, who headed up the meeting. I called back and waited for an answer. I was surprised to hear a man's voice on the other end. "Who is this," I said, in a far-from-courteous tone. "This is Houston... from painting class.” He explained how he got my number from Mike, a mutual friend and student in the class. There was some small talk and then he asked about my plans for the coming Saturday. He asked me if I would be interested in going rock climbing. I said yes, agreeing to a date that had come quite unexpectedly.

He looked good when he picked me up. We doubled with his roommate Christian and a date. When we got to the rock climbing gym, we went off on our own and did some climbing and a lot of talking. Afterwards we went to Nicolitalia’s and had some pizza. By the end of the night I knew I really liked him.

Then came the waiting.

We saw each other frequently. I was uncharacteristically persistent. The more we hung out, the more anxious I was for him to initiate the first move. I did embarrassing things like leave my hand open right next to his and sit really close, but to my dismay, no response. This went on for two months.  We had been on several dates and I began to worry. Maybe this guy would never make a move. A few times I noticed what I thought to be an attempt to put his arm around me, but none of these attempts were successful. I think his arm sort of touched my head once.

One night when he dropped me off, I was thinking I would be lucky to get a substantial hug. He gave me an awkward half-hug and told me he had had a good time. He wished me a good night and hesitated. He turned to leave, but only made it a couple steps before turning back around. He told me he really enjoyed spending time with me and he liked me a lot. He told me the reasons he liked me. I told him I felt the same way. It was then that he finally kissed me.

They say the best spice is hunger. 

I can remember thinking, “That was a really good kiss.” I can also remember thinking, “What took you so long!” But finally he did and it was wonderful.

Then, ironically, he got a terrible sore throat and we didn’t kiss again for another two weeks…