Page 29 of Aim for Love

Mollie and I freeze.

“This isn’t high school; you don’t have to update your social media status,” Sophie goes on. “We get it. You’re in a situationship. It’s fine. You’re allowed to touch.”

I sit back down beside Mollie, carefullynottouching her. I don’t know what she wants here. Am I supposed to deny it?

“We’re the ones who told you to have some fun this week!” Nora adds.

“Well, in that case,” Scott says, and switches sides on the bench to sit so close to Nora he’s practically in her lap. She laughs and shoves at him.

“Yeah, we’re…yeah.” Mollie bites her lip.

So I put my arm around her. After all, I want what I can have while it’s here.

She tucks in under my arm like she’s cold, and holds the hand that’s draped over her shoulder.

“Awww,” coos our group of friends. Then they turn back to their various distractions. Like it’s no big deal, what just happened. Like we didn’t declare ourselves in the middle of a fucking tragedy.

My body relaxes involuntarily with Mollie pressed up against me, despite the torrent of emotions ripping me up inside. This feels like where I’m supposed to be, even though I know our future. But I like the feel of her in my arms too much to protect myself from the pain.

I’ve decided Mollie needs a chance to enjoy riding the bike, so the next day I take her on a flat gravel trail without any features. I watch her as closely as I can while we go down the trail, single-file in some places, and catch her smiling more than gritting her teeth in concentration like she did when we were mountain biking the other day.

I like seeing her happy when we’re together.

Unfortunately, the weather doesn't cooperate. It’s sunny and warm in the morning when we set out, but rain clouds roll in around the time we stop for lunch. It doesn’t sound like a thunderstorm, so I find us a pair of large trees to shelter under.

How do I tell Mollie it’s OK for her to enjoy this kind of ride more than the other one without sounding patronizing? I try asking, “Was this ride more fun than the last one?”

She laughs. “Thanks for taking it easy on me.”

“Well, it’s less technical, but a long ride like this probably takes more endurance. You’re getting in a great workout for your heart.”

“You always have a positive spin.”

Shaking my head, I survey her, noting she’s not quite meeting my eyes. “You don’t have to be good at everything.”

“I’m in no danger of that!”

The way I see Mollie is, she’s brave. She doesn’t pick things up easily and she knows it, yet she’s willing to try anything—and keep trying when she doesn’t succeed. It’s not something I see much, working with men who have muscle memory for basically any athletic activity and mostly gave up on anything else. Tom has more or less stopped doing math—because he’s not good at it—something that alarms me every time I see his paperwork. He keeps track of income and expenses on two separate spreadsheets that rarely see each other. And won’t let me streamline the system. It’s how he avoids beating himself up for what’s not going well.

Unlike Tom, Mollie dives in whether she thinks it will go well or not.

“I think it’s great that you don’t mind being bad at some things.”

She makes a face at me. “Gee, thanks.”

“I mean…” I rub at the nap of my neck. “It’s hard. To admit you’re not good at something. And then to keep doing it.”

“The definition of insanity? Expecting a different outcome?”

“It’s also OK if you want to stop. You don’t have to do all the activities this week, you know. If you’re not enjoying it. We don’t even have to keep axe-throwing.”

“I like axe-throwing with you,” is all she says.

“You’re not just saying that because…” I pause, reluctant to inadvertently criticize her.

“Because?” She looks at me. She sniffs, her nose likely running as the sweat evaporates off our bodies.

“Well, because it’s what I want to do. I don’t want to be like your friends, getting you to do things you don’t really want to do all the time.”

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