I sat in the too clean bedroom on the too soft bed for one reason and one reason only—distraction. While pretending to watch whatever movie flickered on the screen, I calculated how long I could stay before I wouldn’t be too tired to drive home, but just tired enough to fall asleep as soon as I got there.
Another ten minutes.
“You aren’t even listening to me.”
I glanced over at Sadie, the lover of cleanliness and soft mattresses. I didn’t hear her utter a single sound. It didn’t matter though. I spent enough time not listening to Sadie; I could fix this with minimal effort.
“I was listening. I can’t believe he did that either, but you’re the one who agreed to marry him.” What I wanted to say was, “You’re the idiot who decided to get engaged to a twenty-three-year-old who clearly isn’t ready for marriage,” but I didn’t.
She sighed and admired the round rock on that ever-so-special left ring finger while I turned my face back to the screen and hoped she’d do the same. She didn’t.
“Ollie, you exude miserableness.”
I kept my eyes on the dustless screen. She was right, and I didn’t have the energy or resolve to prove otherwise.
“I’m just trying to watch the movie.” Still looking everywhere but at Sadie, I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the closet door. I looked normal—good, even. For that too, there was only one reason—him.
“I’ll give you fifty bucks if you can tell me what’s happening in this scene.”
My eyes flickered back to the screen to take in people running all around the streets of a large city at night. Some looked scared, some didn’t. I had no idea what was going on and I didn’t care. All this talking was going to wake me up too much when all I wanted to do was sleep.
“I’m tired and I’m going home. Keep your fifty bucks.” I swung my legs off the bed and began searching in the low light for my purse.
“I talk, you don’t listen. I put on the movie that you brought over, and you don’t watch it. I don’t know what to do with you when you get like this.”
I found my well-loved bag and shoved my heavily socked feet into my boots as quickly as I could. Having this conversation was absolutely last on my things to do list. I reached for the door, but Sadie got there first.
“I didn’t say it so you’d go. I said it so you’d wake up. This needs to be fixed. You need to be fixed.”
Years of experience taught me how to deal with this too. Every so often Sadie would get fed up with my behavior and try to “fix” me—which made me feel great, by the way. Luckily for me she wasn’t interested enough in me as a person to really, truly help.
“It’s just a bad day. Let’s go to lunch tomorrow. You’ll see, I’ll be fine by then.” Brightness played at the edges of my voice and I hoped it was enough.
She gave me a tight smile and nodded. “Okay, lunch. I get to pick where, though. And if I even sense a foul mood I’m sticking you with the check.”
“Fine.” I reached for the door again. “I can agree to that.”
When I stepped outside onto the quaint porch and pulled the heavy wooden door shut, no light escaped from the house. There were no street lights to help me either. As a lifelong night owl the lack of light shouldn’t have bothered me, but lately I was finding the night daunting instead of calming.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the edge of the woods that surrounded the neighborhood. Not because I feared what might be lurking, but because I welcomed it. Constantly, I felt as if I was on the cusp of greatness—like any minute I’d find the secret passageway or a vampire would tell me I smelled delicious. The problem with being on the cusp, though, is you can go either way.
When I didn’t immediately see my Accord, I paused, thinking it’d been stolen, then remembered I’d had to park around the block. I’d ignored the street-sweeping signs before and had to pay for that mistake.
The only sound around came from my boot heels clicking against the shiny black pavement. There was a crystalline quality to the night. The sky was on the verge of releasing snow—I could smell it. The frost of the evening hit me then. It made me wish I was wearing a real coat instead of the overpriced, yet utterly trendy blazer failing to keep me warm.
I blew out a breath, pretending to be smoking, half wishing I really was, and watched it float away. In the middle of my second pretend puff I heard someone else’s feet on the road. It was the unmistakably human sound of fast-paced walking and it immediately made the back of my neck tingle.
In an instant, I decided I was close enough to the car not to bother with turning around and seeing who it was. I pressed the unlock button on the key fob, only for nothing to happen. I vigorously shook it and tried again. No dice. Then I smacked the damn thing against my palm and tried again, only for nothing to happen—again.
“You know that thing in your hand that looks like a key? It’ll unlock your door for you, no battery required.”
At the sound of the definitely male voice, I jumped out of my skin like I was watching a horror movie I claimed to love, but actually gave me nightmares and dropped my keys.
“Yeah, I know that,” I snapped as I bent down to retrieve them. While I was contemplating my ability to poke a key through an eye socket, I noticed the newest, dorkiest pair of shoes I’d ever seen. He looked like he stepped out of an old movie, standing next to four yellow fuzzy paws.
Can a guy with a dog be that bad?
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, shifting weight from one nerdy shoe to the other, “but you dropped this.”
He was holding a piece of paper, my piece of paper, in his grubby hand. I quickly snatched it like a child, then had to look up, and then up even higher, to meet his gaze. The crazy clear blue of his eyes, even in the low light, caught me off guard.
“Thanks,” I mumbled as I hastily shoved the paper in the pocket of my too tight jeans.
“Welcome,” he mumbled back in the same tone. Was he mocking me?
Without any further attempt at conversation, I unlocked my door—using the now-working fob, not the key, thank you very much—and opened it. Mister Clean Shoes was still standing there, partially in my way. I could’ve opened my door and got in, but that would’ve meant bumping the yellow Lab. Smashing into him, okay, the dog, no.
“What?” I asked, more than slightly perturbed.
“Nothing. I mean, what’re you doing?”
I purposefully dragged my eyes from his to my car. Was he being serious? “Going home.”
“Were you at Sadie’s?”
“That didn’t sound like a real question. Stalk much?”
As soon as the words came out I regretted them. The awkward yet horribly sad expression on his face hurt me in a surprising way. He turned, tugged once on the dog’s leash, and started walking away from me.
Whatever, I told myself and opened the car door. But I just couldn’t get in.
I mulled it over for a couple seconds. “Hey,” I yelled but he didn’t turn. “I’m sorry!” As he kept walking he gave me a thumbs-up over his head. I stood there with my door open, wishing he’d turn around. I got in the car just as it started to snow.
“I’m an asshole.”