“Oh, wow. If that doesn’t scream desperate spinster, I don’t know what does.” His face is so smug I want to throw Mrs. Butterworth at him, claws first. I tried to tell her in my mind to attack him, but instead she walks right up to him and purrs! How dare she! Shouldn’t she be able to sense my anger? Plus, this is her territory, and he’s a mean man.
He picks her up and strokes her face, not at all thrown off by the odd way she looks. “How many cats do you have, Amanda?”
I roll my eyes and walk back to where Bobby is silently gaping. His face is twisted with some sort of hostility, and I can’t tell if it’s directed at me or at Preston.
“We’re almost done here,” I call back to Preston, but he doesn’t seem the least bit fazed. He just shrugs and continues petting Mrs. Butterworth. He either doesn’t notice Bobby glaring at him, or he doesn’t care. In Preston’s defense, it wouldn’t be a fair fight anyway. He could destroy Bobby. He would be declared the winner based on his height alone..
My list had missed that part, Bobby is vertically challenged, and I know I have no room to talk. In reality, he made me feel better about my lack of height. I accepted myself, because he accepted himself and he isn’t that short. If I were to guess, I’d say he’s around five-nine. But in comparison to Preston’s six foot four inch stature, Bobby looks like a child.
Bobby shakes his head, obviously annoyed at the interruption and lets me finish. He takes off without saying thank you and slammed the door behind him.
“Geez, you’re welcome,” I mumble under my breath.
“Don’t worry about Bobby. He’s always like that,” Preston says as he began taking off his shirt.
“What are you doing?” I shriek in annoyance, not able to take my eyes off his chest.
“Um, don’t you have to fit us for the muscle T-shirts?” His face is mildly amused. I, however, am not. He totally throws me off with his confidence.
“Yes, you're right. Sorry I—“ Instead of finishing my sentence, I shake my head and begin measuring. It;s different having to see him this close up. His abs are real and he doesn’t need the spray tan to make them look better or more defined. They’re perfect. Upon closer inspection, I can see they too deserve their own fan page on Facebook. I want to touch them, to make sure I’m not seeing things.
It isn’t until I hear Preston clear his throat that I realize I’ve been holding the measuring tape across his abs without measuring. But I’m staring open mouthed at his six pack as if I expect it to speak to me. He chuckles to himself, and I let the measuring tape snap his bare skin, and then apologize when he yelps. He deserves much worse.
“Okay,” I say coldly. “You can put your shirt back on now. We’re almost done.” I try not to watch him put the shirt back on but fail. If your last boyfriend had been Derek, and you had no one but a cat to keep you company, you’d be staring as well. Especially, if the man in your house looks like he’s shooting a commercial for—Well, it wouldn’t matter because, as I look at him now, I realize I’m so buying.
I shake my head as I watch the shirt pull down over his tight chest and try to think about Grandma Ned, but it doesn’t work. Summoning my self-control, I think about Grandma Ned and how she got so mad that one time she caught me watching TV during Christmas break. Yes, that was a bad time. I believe her choice word was “heathen”. If Grandma Ned were here, she’d call me much worse.
“Are you done yet?” I plead, voice cracking.
“I’m not the one doing the measuring, seamstress lady.”
Oh, he did not just call me that. I feign a smile through clenched teeth, while I secretly hope the gym isn’t crowded so I can go running later this afternoon. If I don’t, I’ll spontaneously combust with all this tension.
Preston waits for me to finish with the last measurements. I escort him to the door in hopes he’ll leave quickly, before I either kill him or steal his virtue. Just as he crosses over the door frame, he turns to face me and says, “I think you’re afraid to go on a trip with me. You like me, admit it.”
I smile sweetly while leaning in. His eyes take on a smoldering look of anticipation. Then, as I close the distance, I slam the door in his face.
****
It's official. I’m going to Hawaii. Yes, I know Preston will be there. But I won’t back down from a challenge. Please, afraid of him?
There’s no fear, but there’s attraction, and it’s like gravity. And if I’m being honest, that does scare me. Because I deserve to be hurt by him. The whole situation is the perfect revenge. If I have any fear it’s that his sarcastic and arrogant presence will tempt me to end his life before we land in Hawaii.
As my chest heaves thinking about his smug grin, I start to feel my heart beat faster, and I begin to panic. Is this what it feels like to have a mental break down? What’s happening to me? Without thinking, I run to my computer and WebMD comes up as my homepage. Kristin would kill me if she knew I still checked my favorite website. Searching my symptoms, I start to hyperventilate. And so I call Kristin, forgetting she’ll be upset that I’m doing this, again.
“Hello?”
“Kristin!” I’m seriously loud at this point.
“Yes?” Poor dear is afraid of me.
“I’m going crazy.” There, I said it.
“No, you're not.”
“Yes, I am!” I argue. “I have all the symptoms. I—”
“Amanda,” she scolds. “Did you go on WebMD again? I thought we discussed this, no more WebMD. Remember last time you did this?”
“No,” I lie.
“Amanda.” Now she’s using her mom voice.
“Okay, fine, I remember.”
“Now, be a good girl, hang up the phone, and go for a run or something to expend all your energy. No coffee. What’s gotten in to you lately? How did it go with the measurements? Sorry for that, by the way. And you’re leaving in less than three days for vacation with your best friend. You need to calm down.”
She’s right, so I take a deep breath and hang up the phone. She isn’t just right about me needing to calm down and run, she’s also right about the whole WebMD thing. Last time I went online, I convinced myself that not only was I going to die from a paper cut, but also that I had some sort of flesh eating disorder that was going to shut down all of my internal organs. I spent a night in the hospital over the paper cut and freaked out not only my friends but my family that ended up driving three hours just to make sure I was going to survive.
It was bad, but it was four years ago. How dare she hold that against me. And it wasn’t even my fault. Even if I was watching a special on Dateline about germs and how if you’re too clean your body can’t fight off the germs anymore leaving you exposed to flesh eating viruses. So it’s Datelines fault for keeping America too informed. And how was I to know that paper cuts are sometimes more painful than normal cuts because they slice the skins surface; stupid nighttime television.
Sighing as I look at the clock, I see that it’s around eight pm so I still have time to make it to the gym. These next few days are going to be jam packed with work before we leave for the airport. As I think about Hawaii, I choose to buy an extra ticket for Mrs. Butterworth. I couldn’t bare the thought of her having to have some strange person cat sit. It sounds creepy to have someone come in and feed you, pet you, and leave again. Well, that’s what I get to look forward to when I die alone in a retirement home. Sigh.
This time I shall be prepared. Not for Preston, but in general. So I pack my cute work out clothes, yoga pants as well as my new hot pink racer back top. Just in case there’s some new gym member that looks interesting. Heading to my car, I hop in and speed off to the REC center.
Chapter Five
I notice that the place looks just as dead as before, and oddly enough the front door is wide open. I close it behind me and run toward the stairs to get to my treadmill, then I’m attacked.
“Ahhhhh!” I let out the loudest shriek known to mankind.
“Get it off!” Screaming, I twist in a hundred different directions at once. There’s some large black object flying around my head toward me in a menacing fashion. The movie The Birds flashes before my eyes before I crumple into a heap on the floor.
Someone runs down the stairs in the direction of my body, which is now in the fetal position, and chases away the crazed animal before coming to my aid. My knight in shining armor! My hero! My— “Oh.” I say rather loudly.
“What do you mean ‘oh’?” Preston retorts as he leans down to pick me up off the floor.
“What was that?” I try to keep my voice from shaking but can’t because I’m so terrified.
“A bird.” He holds back a smile.
“A bird! No way, I don’t believe you. It couldn’t have been a bird, it tried to kill me.” My eyes are huge as I try to show him with my hands just how big the bird was.
He tells me to follow him with his little finger and leads me back outside near the trees that line the Rec center. “Do you see that?” He asks. Nodding, my throat goes dry as I look at a tree full of black birds.
“Somewhere in there is your bird. They sit around here a lot. The building is warm this time of year, so it makes sense they would invite themselves inside. You scared me back there, I thought you were getting mugged, not mauled by a sparrow.” He scowls at me then turns to walk back in the gym.
“I could have been!” I yell after him as I follow him up the stairs.
He turns to look at me, not at all concerned.
“I’m scared of birds.” Admitting this requires the last shred of pride to die, so I follow him inside with my head hanging in shame.
“I’m sorry what?” He’s now walking toward me with an amused smirk on his face.
“I’m afraid of birds.” I say quieter this time not daring to look him in the eye.
“Birds,” he says plainly.
“Birds,” I confirm.
“All birds or just flying birds? If you were trapped at the zoo and an ostrich came running for you, would you scream? Or how about penguins, technically they’re birds.” He pauses for a minute waiting for my answer.
“You’re mocking me. I shouldn’t have said anything because everything is a giant joke to you.” I turn to walk away and trip over my own feet sending me sailing into the fake tree by the benches, knocking it over. “I meant to do that.” I huff as I stroll to my treadmill and begin running.
“It’s okay,” he says as he starts to run next to me. “I have things I’m afraid of, too.”
Slowing down, I turn so I can look at him. I ask, “Like what?”
“Hippos.” He shakes his head in disgust. “They terrify me.” He winks and continues running as I stand there with my mouth, yet again, hanging open for flies to stroll in to.
“They’re quite vicious, like polar bears,” I answer, getting my stride back. Is he trying to make me feel better? That’s surprising, and sweet. I feel myself start to smile.