On My Way To Mr. Right

Chapter 58

It was the day before Christmas Eve. The day of James’ performance. I felt giddy. It wasn’t my first time to witness one of his performances. But it was my first time to see it as his girlfriend.

Granted, it wasn’t a romantic scene or anything. It was Christmas-themed. Jolly good show. There’d be candy cane stripes and elf ears all around the venue, I’m sure of it. Children were already flocking the front of the stage. Parents followed ensuite peeling their children from the bright Christmas decorations.

Mom and dad were too busy preparing for the grand Christmas Eve meal to attend tonight. Most of my family from dad’s side which included a handful of aunts, uncles, and cousins were going to be in attendance tomorrow. I didn’t feel bad for their absence tonight though. James and his mom’s attendance tomorrow was well-requested. It was exciting.

I didn’t even had time to freak out that they were coming over. Mom personally invited Mrs. Tucker last night and I had barely a day to plan things ahead. It wasn’t easy to decide where to sit James, what with all the nosey aunts, flirty cousins, and annoying children. It was harder to place Mrs. Tucker, too, knowing my family had a knack for bringing up dramatic pasts. Grandma would instantly ask about James’ dad and that will just spoil the entire meal. Mom wasn’t too freaked about this. But I had a mission, and that was to save the Tucker family from my family’s craziness for as long as I can. Or at least try to.

James was coming as my boyfriend. Sure, I was complaining about being rushed into this relationship and being too suffocated. But wow, now, my parents were the ones practically prepping us for a wedding. He may as well ask for my hand tomorrow night.

Tomorrow’s meal was not to be taken lightly. I knew better than anyone that the Smiths are judgemental people who would much rather criticize you on your weight than ask how you are doing emotionally. We were a bit of savages. I try to unlearn those traits.

“Are you ready, Lottie?” B asks, clinging her hand into my arm. We faced the entrance of the local gym complex or community center. Or whatever the town chose to name it.

Charles had to skip tonight due to some ‘familial obligations’ which practically meant Christmas shopping for his mother who hated Christmas and their family. He did, however, try to get out of it by claiming a pass for James’ event. But it was a minor performance. His mother gave him a hard pass. James wasn’t even the main show. He was just an intermission number for the opening of the newly refurbished community center. James, along with some other youth dancers, were being paid to promote and dance in tonight’s event. He did prepare three dances though. One, he choreographed for a group of young kids. The second were his groups’ dance number. And the third, was the most requested review of his last championed dance routine. The one where he triggered my stage fright and asked me to be his girlfriend afterwards.

Even though it was winter break and we had no classes, James and I frequently texted. As frequent as the wind blows in the day. I suppose it was because we were fairly new to this. Dating, I mean. But for the most part, I was just so bored of having to sleep and clean the house all day. James was a funny conversationalist. That, I knew about him beforehand.

He visited me at least every other day, too. Always with a coffee in hand. No matter the time, coffee was always a good plan. Dad was easing up on him, and I think he might have even forgotten about the entire courting them thing.

But I was still praying on that. I can’t be too sure until we celebrate at least three months and dad still doesn’t say anything.

“Earth to Charlotte!” B snaps me out of my daze. “Hello? Where are you?”

“I’m sorry. Just a little preoccupied,” I answer sheepishly.

“That’s our seat,” she points out to two unoccupied seats in the middle of the front row.

My boyfriend was not kidding when he said he was going to reserve us VIP seats. We may as well be seated with the producer or judges of the show, if there ever was one.

Sitting in the front row gave me anxiety though. It heightened when I realize once more that it was my boyfriend who arranged this. The last time I sat in front, I was called on stage. There was no way I was putting myself through that horror again.

“Um, no,” I immediately shake my head, refusing to sit in the trap known as theater chair.

“What?”

“Nope, we’re not sitting there. Let’s find some other seats,” I exclaim, grabbing her arm off to go look.

But she refuses to walk with me and looked at me with a strange look.

“What are you doing?” She crosses her arms and looked at me confused.

“I don’t want to sit in front,” I tell her, trying to avoid the overdramatic subject all together. It’s not ideal to reject the seat your boyfriend so graciously reserved for you because you were feeling self-conscious. It’s considered rude.

“Why? James reserved those seats.”

“Yeah, exactly why,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes at her.

I wasn’t exactly mad at James. Those were harmless seats and for all I know, he just really wanted us to have a good time and a great view for the entire performance. But the last performance was traumatic.

Moreover, I just remembered he was reenacting his last performance. The chances of him calling me over on stage has just skyrocketed.

“Is this about your stage fright?” She looked at me with a side tilt, which usually tells me she was trying to be patient in dealing with my nonsense. I’ve encountered a lot of those looks since I started to date men. Adrian was definitely a lot of nonsense.

“Maybe,” I rubbed the back of my head nervously.

“Well, stop it. This is James we’re talking about. I’m sure he has learned from his past mistakes.”

I wasn’t too sure about that. He was a hardheaded fool. And that’s me saying it compassionately. James had a knack for perfection according to his standards, no matter the opinion of others. Which is why he went into dancing, because he was free to perfect his craft there. And also why he struggles in classes. There is hardly any freedom to answering standardized questions.

I sat down, nevertheless. I did not want to argue with Beatrice in the middle of the community center. The show was beginning, too.

It didn’t take long for the show to end. Surprisingly, there were no surprises from my boyfriend. I was relieved but also a little disappointed, if I may say so. He was a gestures man. He would have loved to surprise me.

B notices my disappointed look at the end of the show. We waited for most of the crowd to dissipate before standing up to leave. James and I had planned before hand to meet in the parking lot after the event itself.

“You didn’t say much all throughout,” she observes. I shrugged, not knowing what to respond to that. “I told you he wasn’t going to do the same mistake twice. You really just have to trust him sometimes.”

“I know,” I chided.

“Then what are you mad for?”

“I’m not mad. Who says I’m mad?”

I get why guys say girls are confusing.

Because, we are.

“You’re literally gritting your teeth right now.”

“Whatever, Beatrice. Let’s go over the parking lot now. The back door seems empty,” I say, yanking her off the seat and flying to the exit.

With good timing, James had just exited the other back door, too. He held a wide grin as he comes up to hug me. I smile back, and pat him on the back for such a ‘job well done’.

“You don’t seem ecstatic,” he observes after letting me go.

“What do you mean? You guys are being dramatic. I’m fine,” I dismissed.

“Yes, I told you, right? She’s mad. I don’t know why,” B quips, rolling her eyes at me.

Damn bench, throwing me under the stupid bus.

“Why is my girlfriend mad?” James brings me in front of me, forcing me to look into his eyes.

Those jaded eyes. Those attractive glittering balls of heaven. I couldn’t be mad at those.

A small grin exits my face. He was a weirdo who could make me smile with just his eyes.

“There goes my happy girlfriend,” he laughs.

I could feel Beatrice’s burning stare at the side of my face. Like I’d ever admit to it.

“Does anybody want to get ice cream?” She suggests, holding me for a glare.

I roll my eyes, ignoring her. She was my dramatic kind of girl.

“Yeah, sure. Let me just get my other stuff from the dressing room,” James replies.

“James, you wouldn’t mind if Charlotte rides with me, right?”

Before I could reject the offer, James had already nodded for me. Sometimes, I hated his responsive ass.

“Oh, no problem. I could meet you there, if you want. I drive faster than you, anyways,” he teases but B had other ideas for a fun afternoon in mind rather than a race.

“Sure, sure,” she looks at me with a deadly stare, telling me I was dead before I could even get inside the car. I dreaded a confrontation with Beatrice. She always knows what to say and she was always right. It was almost like looking at a direct reflection of myself in her. She was the subconsciousness that I have never asked for.

“Looks like you and me are about to have some girl time, Lottie,” she muses after James’s figure reenters the community center.

We weren’t even five minutes into driving before she starts glaring at me again. I tried to ignore it for the first few minutes, praying to the heavenly creatures to let this car ride be faster than usual. But Beatrice had other plans, what with her slow driving and all.

“Why were you mad earlier?” Finally, the confrontation I dreaded arrives.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You so were,” she retorts. That was probably her best argument to date. “You were mad he didn’t do any kind of surprise mid-performance, weren’t you?”

It was like looking in a mirror.

“Maybe.”

“Why? You hated being the center of attention. You have terrible stage fright. You said yourself you–“

“Okay, okay,” I had to stop her ringing inside my head telling me I was wrong and beginning to sound like those toxic girlfriends.

“Okay, what?”

“I’ll tell you already.”

Then, for the next three-minute ride to the ice cream shop, I confessed to having self-conscious doubts. How I felt inadequate for James, and how his surprising gestures somehow made me feel like I must deserve him somehow. He was willing to do all these for me. Why would he be doing that if I was a shirty girlfriend?

I know I was an extreme overthinker. It’s partly why I’ve avoided guys until now. It was like a new week comes and a new thought obsession begins.

I’d have thought things would be a little different now.

“Wow, we seriously need another girl’s night. You have a lot of pent-up feelings, girlfriend.”