He hoped she didn’t notice the slight swerve of the car which occurred right after her touch. “Perhaps,” he had announced, “since you seem to trust me. We are going on an illegal picnic.”
“What’s an illegal picnic?”
But that was all he’d say until they arrived at their destination. He parked in the woods near the chain link fence. The hole was still there just as it had been when he was a kid. He exited his car and helped Abbie over and under tree parts before telling her to climb in. “Shh,” he had cautioned when she tried to ask what was happening.
He held onto her upper arm, her bare skin cold against his warm hands. He leaned in and whispered, “Trust me,” into her ear. He hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking to suggest the goose bumps spreading down her arm underneath his hand and the slight shudder he felt her make weren’t caused by the chill in the air.
She stared up into his eyes, and as she turned to climb through the fence, he was pretty sure he saw her lips form the word always. But, he admonished himself, that really could have been wishful thinking.
They climbed in and made their way to the outskirts of a field. There, they saw cars lined up in front of several screens.
“A drive in?” she questioned.
“Yep. I didn’t want to do just dinner and a movie, so I had to make it a little more exciting. When I was a kid, my friends and I would sneak in here all the time to watch the movies our parents wouldn’t allow us to see or the ones we couldn’t get into on our own. Right at this spot, I had some of the best times of my life. And it was always a little more fun with that added thrill of ‘would we get caught?’ On our first date,” he told her, “we went back to your childhood with the tree house, on this one I’ll share some of mine.”
He held up the basket and spread the blanket before taking out a small radio.
“So we can hear the movies too. You can pick the first movie, but I get to pick the second. It’s only fair.”
Opening the basket, she took out tubs of fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, biscuits, green beans, and chocolate chip cookies.
“Healthy choices, here,” she teased, and he grinned.
“Picnic food,” he retorted, “is never healthy.” Then he pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses.
They watched a stupid comedy, and both of them had fun making fun of all of the stupid things wrong with the film and they ate and they talked as the actor’s voices hummed from the radio. When they had put all the leftovers back into the basket, Abbie laid down on the blanket, his jacket, which he had given her to wear, was instead balled up under her head.
“You know,” she told him, “this has been a lot of fun, but did you know that paying to get into one of these things is like $5? It would have been a lot safer to just make this a legal picnic.”
He looked down at her laughing face, and placed an arm on either side of her.
“More legal? Yes. More fun?” He leaned a little closer to her. “More exciting?” A little closer and he noticed the shakiness of her breath, the way her breast rose and fell at a rate that could only mean one thing. “More lurid?” He brushed his lips against hers before finishing his thought. “No.”
He deepened the kiss and she didn’t stop him. He settled himself on top of her, careful to hold his weight on his arm. His other hand went to her waist as his tongue met hers for the first time. His hand went lower to the hem of her shirt, and then up again underneath this time. His fingers scaled up her skin and left a trail of goose bumps. No, he thought, it definitely wasn’t wishful thinking. He moved to her neck and gently sucked on the delicate skin he found there. The sound she made, half moan, half sigh, sent lightning down his stomach and into his hardening groin. He pushed himself into her, letting her feel how she affected him. Her shirt was being pulled higher and then it was on the blanket beside them. Her hands were tugging at his hair, and he wouldn’t have wanted her to stop except there were so many more important places for those hands to be.
He shifted to a more comfortable spot, and she must’ve thought he was moving off of her.
“Don’t stop,” she groaned, and he was going to tell her he had no intention of stopping, when a light passed over them from above.
“Yes, stop,” a voice spoke, and Parker turned to see who was talking. A young attendant held a flashlight in their face, and while he looked at them as if they were despicable, Parker couldn’t help but notice with disgust that the young man did not have any problem taking advantage of the lack of clothing covering Abbie’s body. Her perfect, runner’s body. Parker’s anger simmered. He wanted to tell the kid to leave and get back to what he was doing, but instead he covered Abbie from the interloper and gave her time to put her shirt back on.
“Do you have tickets?” the kid asked now that his free show was over. Parker sighed and reached for his wallet, the proof of what they had been doing embarrassingly present to the kid’s eyes. He smirked, and Parker had to remind himself that it was not a good idea to punch a boy – it just wasn’t a fair fight. So instead, he took a $20 out of his wallet and handed it to the worker; after all, he reasoned, he was just doing his job.
“Does that cover us?” The kid took the bill and put it in his back pocket.
“Enjoy the show,” he said, “but please remember this is a family place. No more of that,” he smirked, pointing to the space between the two of them as they sat there like two chastised children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. The kid left after that remark, but he could have left without saying it. Parker had cooled down enough to realize the problems with what he had just done. As hard as it was going to be, in all of that statement’s possible meanings, he had to leave Abbie alone for the foreseeable future. At least like that. He owed it to both Abbie and Toby to wait to deepen the physical relationship until everything was out in the open.
He looked over at the flushed woman beside him. She looked up at him mischievously and joked, “Less embarrassing?” She drew out the word, “Absolutely.”
“Shut up,” he teased her and playfully pushed her over onto the blanket where she giggled up at him. Parker wanted to kiss her everywhere. This waiting thing, he told himself, wasn’t going to be easy.
My Life as a Normal: Part 2
Anonymous | April 25, 2015
Hello again, friends. I‘m sure you have all been waiting with bated breath for the juicy conclusion to the world’s most intriguing vacuum battle. However, I’m sorry, but you will have to wait just a little bit longer for the end of that ditty.
First, let me update you on everything else going on in my neck of the woods. Let’s see. Well, first, there is work. I’m happy to report that not only do I still have the privilege of being gainfully employed, but I’m on speaking terms with everyone in the office. Everyone. I cannot emphasize that everyone enough. Please see those italics and read between the lines because while I cannot tell you anything else, I can tell you that being able to talk to everyone I work with now lets me get through the day in a much happier manner. So be happy for me, please. Because I’m happy for myself.
Speaking of being happy, Wesley and I are still a thing, and I plan on keeping him around for the foreseeable future, all amicable work relationships aside. Do you want to know more? Too bad! That’s all you’re getting from here on out.
Let’s see. What else? Well, I had my annual physical and everything was in tip top shape. I’m a healthy girl. So, there’s that. I guess I have covered everything accept the vacuum debacle, so here’s what happened after I was so rudely ordered to buy replacement bags:
When I woke back up a few hours later, I had a happy minute or two when I thought the whole thing had been a bad dream. Maybe Jo (uh, I mean, not Jo) hadn’t just told me it was my job to supply vacuum bags from now until the end of eternity? This thought didn’t last long, however, because the second I answered my phone, there was living proof I hadn’t imagined it: I had a text from my other, saner roomie.
‘J just told me to tell you t
hat she couldn’t wait for you to become a responsible adult any longer and she was forced to buy bags herself. They cost $7, she told me to have you place the money on the counter before she gets home from the gym. She said you’d know what she meant. ?’
I threw my head back against the pillow and plotted ruination plans. What was with that girl? And why didn’t she just text me instead of dragging poor Magpie into the problem?
I rolled out of bed, and headed to the bank. Seven dollars’ worth of pennies is worth just as much as $7 in bills, right? At any rate, I felt that payback was at least partially accomplished later that day when I was getting ready to go running and I heard the scream:
“Abigail L*** Baker!” it shrieked through the house and into my skin. It announced its hatred by using my middle name, which I have kept anonymous here for the simple reason that I hate it, and don’t want you to know it, and sent me skittering towards my window.
“THIS IS NOT FUNNY!” it screeched coming closer and closer with every word. I heard her footsteps pounding on the floor, making her way towards my room with murder clear as the final outcome. I jumped out the window, glad for once that I was the one stuck on the bottom floor, and made my way to the park.
I got some scrapes and scratches on the bushes outside my window, but I can assure you that it was worth it. Finally, after all this time, I finally got Jo to react like a normal human being. Hearing her violent reaction to my joke, while scary, made having her hate me worth it.
There is more to come, kids, because I can assure you of one thing: neither of us is going to back down. This means war.
See you soon,
Anon
17
The War of the Roommates was getting old fast, and so were Abbie’s fond feelings for her flailing blog. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t like writing about Jo, because she did and that was a big win in her column of the battle list since Jo hated it so much, but more that she felt censored. If there was one thing she hated more than anything, it was censorship. If she wanted a happy life, though, she was just going to have to suck it up and get used to it. No more blabbing about boys online, she told herself daily. Instead, she drove poor Maggie crazy by going into every detail with her.
If she could write about whatever and whoever she wanted in her blog, her posts would currently be novel length, because she had a lot to say about the two men that were both suddenly very much in her life.
First, there was Parker. And wow. Maybe she couldn’t fill novels about him because she wouldn’t know where to start. She couldn’t find anything bad to say about him. From the magical night at the theater to his insistence on making it a point to call her every night, even on the nights when he worked at the hospital. All he wanted was to hear about her day, as mundane as it was in comparison to his and to everyone else he came into contact with, and for her to tell him something funny in order to lighten his load. Because, as he told her, “There’s nothing quite like an Abbie story to make the day a little bit better.”
If someone else said those words, she’d assume it was a line. Yet when Parker did, it felt sincere. He felt sincere, genuine, though possibly too good to be true. Shouldn’t he have some faults?
Then again, maybe he did. She thought back to last Friday night and the end of their date, when he walked her to her door.
“Goodnight,” he said, as he kissed her chastely on the cheek. After the kiss at the drive-in, she expected more. She wanted more.
“Do you want to come in?” she asked him, and he frowned just the slightest little bit. It was enough, though, for her to notice it.
“I, just. I don’t think that’s the best idea. Why don’t we go a little bit slow? Get to know each other?”
“Yeah. That’s a great idea,” she told him brightly.
“Thanks,” he whispered and gave her a quick hug before heading off to his car.
What had happened? He clearly had no intention of going slowly earlier that night. So it had to have been something during or after. She thought back to everything she could remember, but it all seemed perfect to her. Was it something she had done? Something about her? Maybe when he had kissed her he had been repulsed. Then she remembered his erection pressed against her leg. He hadn’t felt repulsed; he had, in fact, very much felt like he had enjoyed it, but then what was with the goodbye?
Clearly he liked her. He wouldn’t spend as much time with her as he did if he didn’t, since there was certainly no other gain to it. So did he only feel friendship towards her? Did he have a girlfriend? A wife? She wasn’t sure, but she did feel confident there was something wrong with the whole thing. When she tried to share her concerns, Maggie told her to get over it. He was probably just doing the gentlemanly thing because he wanted to have a real relationship. Still Abbie wasn’t buying it. He had to have a flaw. She was going to figure out his secret if it killed her.
Once she finished writing about Parker, she would move on to Toby, and on this subject, she could talk for hours. If she thought she had problems with comprehending Parker’s actions, then she didn’t know what to call the befuddlement she experienced when she was around Toby.
From last Monday, when he had talked to her for the first time, albeit shortly, since the confrontation in the conference room, on, they had talked more and more each day. She felt fairly confident he was close to forgiving her, if he hadn’t already.
On Tuesday, they had even shared a joke about Mr. Rolan’s plaid suit, which he wore on the third Tuesday of every month like clockwork.
“Is April almost over already?” he chuckled across the divide between their desks. “It seems way too early to have to look at that outfit again.”
“It’s always too early to have to see that,” Abbie giggled back. They both turned their attention back to work, but it felt as if a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. Later, he had held the door open for her as she went out to lunch.
“What do you think it means?” she asked Tyler as they ran side by side at the gym.
“That he has finally graduated from petty school and forgiven you?” her friend guessed. While he was the first one to tell her to be suspicious when Toby wasn’t mad at all, he was also the first one to say he should start acting like a grownup and get over it already. “He doesn’t have to love you,” he had told Abbie one day not too long after the debacle had occurred, “but he does have to treat you with civility. This is a workplace, after all, not a nursery.”
“You think? Why? I mean, not that I’m complaining, but one day he hated me, and then the next he was asking about my weekend as if nothing had happened.” Tyler snorted. “Okay,” Abbie continued, “he wasn’t acting like nothing had happened, but it wasn’t as if we ever had closure on what did happen, and now here we are making small talk.”
“Don’t read too much into it, Abs.” Tyler told her. “He realized he was acting like a child. He realized his behavior was affecting everyone in the office. He realized what you did was a mistake, and one you were sorry about. So he stopped acting like a jackass. It’s not rocket science.”
“Ugh, I hate that you are probably right,” she whined.
“What’s it to you?”
“I don’t want him to just talk to me because it’s the professional, adult thing to do. I want him to talk to me because he likes me and cares about what I have to say.”
“Why? You have Parker, remember? And Parker sounds like a keeper. It’s hard to meet funny, hot, considerate, single doctors in this world, let alone this town. I’m living the dream through you, Abigail, so don’t mess that up for me.”
“What? I’m not trying to mess it up. I just want everyone to like me. Who wants to be only tolerated?”
“Don’t buy it,” Tyler said as he picked up his pace. “You don’t care about what anyone else in the office thinks of you, barring the obvious exception of me.”
“That’s not true! I care about what everybody thinks of me!”
“So you care that Ms. Rachel wa
nts you to fail so she can shake her head knowingly at all your irresponsible flaws? You want her to really like you? What about Nathan? You want him asking you for advice on what anti-itch medication to get for his athlete’s feet every time he sees you at the water fountain? Because if he thinks you’re friends, he will ask you about your anti-itch preferences. And then there is Joyce. Do you want to spend your day thinking of excuses for getting out of her constant Tupperware parties? Or is it that you want to spend your weekends actually attending her Tupperware parties. And why haven’t you interrupted me yet to admit that you’re lying about caring for these idiots’ opinions?”
Abbie sighed. “Alright, alright,” she conceded, “I want Toby to like me because I like Toby, not because I want the whole office to like me. But what’s your point? I’m not going to do anything about it. He has just recently managed to get to where he can stand talking to me. Let alone date me. Parker is safe from that treachery, I can promise you that.”
“He better be.”
And when she had said it, she was confident that it was the truth. The rest of the week had passed in similar small talk, with the talk gradually getting bigger. By Friday, they were having full-length conversations. And when Saturday finally came along, she was not surprised to see Toby back at the park where she made her runs.
“Hey,” he came running up beside her, “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“You have?”
“Yep,” he said, picking up the pace. “I’ve been thinking about running some 5ks, maybe build up to a half- or even full marathon one day, and I thought I would go running with you today to start.” He paused to let his words fully take hold. “If,” he continued, “that’s alright with you?”
“Yes, yep, definitely,” she had somehow squeaked out, and then took it one step farther, “I run in some races, you know. Maybe I can get you some information?”
He grinned over at her.
The Abbie Diaries: The Complete Series Page 9