Catching Whitney

by Amy Hale

  “Oh no. I can’t take that. You won it. Give it to Caleb.”

  He pushes the duck in my direction again. “Nah, Caleb doesn’t like ducks. Besides, I won them with your darts, so it’s your prize. I just helped.”

  “Oh, well, thank you then.” I accept the cute furry squeak toy and look it over. I don’t know what I’ll do with it, but it’s adorable. Maybe it’ll look cute on my desk. Sure, Whitney. Put it on your desk, so you can look at it often and think about Aidan when you need to be concentrating. Brilliant idea. Okay, so maybe not on my desk.

  It’s small enough that it fits in the front pocket of my jeans, so I slip it in and look expectantly at Aidan. “Now what?”

  He looks around. “Did I see a ball throwing game somewhere?”

  I nod and point down the midway. “I believe it’s over there.”

  He grabs my hand and pulls me alongside him while we maneuver through the crowd of people between us and the game he’s searching for. I notice a few familiar faces as we pass and they take a noted interest in our joined hands. I smile weakly as I’m being propelled forward, praying they don’t read anything into the relationship that isn’t there. We stop in front of a black and white striped booth that was made to resemble and old baseball uniform. There are pictures of baseball legends in various places inside the walls and in the middle there are targets similar to those of a dunk tank. In this game, the player is expected to hit the target a minimum of three times to win a small prize. Hitting the target all five times results in a large prize.

  Aidan smiles at me. “This almost isn’t fair. I probably shouldn’t play.”

  “You’re probably right. You’d be too good at it, and they’d accuse you of cheating.” I manage to keep a straight face while I drown my words in sarcasm.

  “Oh, you don’t think I can do it, huh?”

  “I’m sure you can hit it all three times, but all five? I don’t know.”

  His growing smirk is full of mischief. “Let’s bet on it. If I win, you have to go through the fun house with me. If you win, I owe you dinner.” He hands the game operator some money.

  Without thinking, I blurt out, “You’re on.” This is when my brain reminds me that he used to be a semi-pro ball player. This is a bad idea.

  As he’s preparing to throw the first ball, I place my hand on his arm. “Wait. What position did you play in the minors?”

  He shrugs. “Oh, I was just the pitcher.”

  “Great. I should probably have insisted on a blindfold then. I think you are taking advantage of me here.”

  He laughs. “Hey, you agreed. No take backs. But, if it makes you feel any better, my injury was to my rotator cuff, so I can’t throw like I used to.”

  I start to say “good”, but I stop myself before it escapes my lips. That would be horribly insensitive. His injury cost him his career; I can’t even pretend to be happy about that.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear it. That must be difficult for you. Should you even try this? Will it injure you further?” My question and concern are genuine, but that’s not how he interprets it.

  “Ha! Good one, but you aren’t getting out of the bet that easy.”

  He pulls back and throws the first ball. It strikes the target dead on. He gives me a satisfied smile, and I roll my eyes. He throws the second ball and again hits the target. I look at my shoes, pretending not to care. His third throw makes a loud clang as it meets with the metal circle.

  He turns to me. “Impressed yet?”

  I smile sweetly. “You haven’t won. You still have to hit it two more times.”

  “I will.”

  The impact of the fourth ball creates another loud clang. I groan—I hate fun houses.

  When he nails it the fifth time, I raise my hands in surrender. “Okay, you win. Fun house it is.”

  He chooses a baseball glove from the prizes available and asks if they can keep it for later. The operator kindly agrees and then Aidan wastes no time dragging me to the fun house.

  The entrance is dark, and he senses my hesitation to pass through the doorway. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I just don’t like being scared. I don’t do horror movies, either. I hate it when stuff or people jump out at me.”

  He squeezes my hand. “I promise to keep you safe.”

  I nod. “Okay, but I can’t promise I won’t throat punch a clown if one of them surprises me.”

  Aidan laughs and urges me through the door. “If you get jumped by a clown I promise to hold him down while you go for the jugular.”

  I try to smile. “Glad we have a plan in place.”

  He pulls me close to his side, and we start our way through the first section that is a maze of mirrors. I temporarily forget my discomfort as we look at ourselves in the odd distortion of each mirror. Some are horrifyingly funny. One, in particular, makes me look like I am all legs and have a stump for a torso.

  “Can you imagine the personal hell it would be to find pants if I were really built like this?” I laugh as I ponder the idea.

  Aidan laughs with me. “I guess you could always go without pants.”

  “True. But then where would I keep my cell phone?”

  “You could do like so many other women do and keep it in your bra.”

  Without thinking, I remark. “My boobs are small enough that I’ve already got a bra full of personal items. It would take me forever to find it in there.”

  He stops laughing. “I think your boobs are perfect.”

  I look at him and realize he’s being completely serious. He takes a step closer.

  “Never doubt that you have a beautiful body, Whitney. I may have only spent a few hours with you, but it’s something that I’ll never forget. You’re amazing and perfect, and I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself that way.”

  I try to fight off the heat in my cheeks and slow burn in my belly. His words instantly conjure memories that make me want to fling myself into his arms.

  “Well, thank you. Oddly, that may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  He frowns. “Your boyfriends have never told you how beautiful you are?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve not had the best luck with relationships. Most of them never lasted long enough to get that far. The few that did were a mess.”

  He pulls me close to him, and I don’t resist. “They’re all idiots. All of them.” He looks around for a moment while I struggle with a response. Then he pulls me farther into the fun house, keeping me close.

  We don’t speak again until we are most of the way through. There is one clown, but Aidan intercepts before I attempt a Mortal Kombat move. He talks to the horribly painted up person while I stand back and glare. Did I mention I hate clowns? I hate them. The next thing I know, we are being ushered down a dark hallway and end up in a small room. It appears to be a side room - maybe where the clowns hide. I can’t tell, and I’m not sure I want to know.

  “What are we doing here?” I decide to ask.

  Aidan puts a finger on my lips as a small group of teen girls pass by us. We are completely undetected in our little alcove. Once they pass he pulls me close and runs his hand down my jawline and neck. I shiver in response to his light touch.

  He whispers to me, “I’m sorry. I just have to know if I imagined how good we were together.” His lips hover over mine. “I need to kiss you, Whitney. I need to feel your touch again.” Then he presses his lips to mine. I know if I push back or say no, he’ll step away and let me leave, but I can’t manage anything but to kiss him back. My lips part, and he pushes his tongue past my teeth. One of us moans, or both of us. Time seems to stand still for several minutes as he kisses me passionately, his hands roaming my body. He pushes me up against the nearest wall and leans into me. I can feel his arousal against me, and it only ignites my need further. And then it happens. A loud squeaky duck begins to scream from my front pocket in protest to Aidan’s body pressing against it. It startles us both, and we fly apart
.

  I’m horrified that I was partaking in a make-out session in the middle of clown hell. But that inappropriate side of me, the side that doesn’t know when to shut up, that part is starting to take over. It starts with a small giggle and quickly escalates into full-blown laughter. I have tears running down my cheeks, and I can barely breathe. That’s when I realize I may also be having a panic attack of some sort. I need air. Now.

  I push past Aidan and hastily find my way to the exit. Once outside, I sit on a nearby hay bale and try to calm my breathing. Aidan is at my side in moments, but it’s obvious he doesn’t know how to help me. I wave him back, holding up one finger to signal that I just need a minute. He patiently stands back as I work to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. When I feel steady enough to talk again, I stand up.

  “Are you okay? What happened in there?” Concern is etched on his features, and while it’s very sweet, I also find it a touch annoying; I don’t want him to be sweet.

  “I think I panicked a little bit. I’ll be okay.”

  “Are you sure? Anything I can get you?”

  “No, I’m fine. I just need to rest a bit. I think I’ll go home before my shift at the school booth tonight.”

  He frowns. “Probably a good idea. I’ll drive you home.”

  “No!” I shout it louder than I intend to. I’m not trying to be horrible to him. I just need to get away and clear my head. I can’t think when he’s around. It took me way too long to adjust to the idea of being alone and with one afternoon he was undoing all of that. My well-laid plans of independent, feminine bad-assery were swirling down the drain thanks to a couple of intoxicating kisses.

  “I appreciate it, Aidan, but I’m really okay. I can drive myself home.”

  He looks unhappy, and I know it’s my fault. I hate that, but I can’t change it at the moment. He clears his throat. “We need to talk. How about over dinner tonight?”

  I shake my head and try to smile. “No need, silly. Dinner was if I won, remember?”

  He continues to frown. “You don’t get it. I win either way. But I can see you don’t want to discuss it, so I’ll save it for another time.” As he turns to walk away, he says, “Please, call me if you need me, Whitney. No matter what.” Then he leaves me sitting on the hay bale wondering if I’m as stupid as I feel.

  My evening in the booth was busy, and before I knew it, my shift was up. Lindsey worked the shift before mine, and she informed me she was coming over later in the evening. She could tell I was distracted, and I learned a long time ago that I can never hide anything from her.

  My doorbell rings around 9 PM, and I open it to find Lindsey holding a small pizza and a six pack. I move aside to allow her entrance, then busy myself getting plates and glasses. Once we settle ourselves at the table, she starts her interrogation. I give her the short version of what happened that afternoon.

  “Seriously? He kissed you in the fun house? That’s pretty hot!”

  I frown at her. “No, it’s not. Well, yes it is, but I don’t need hot, Lindsey. I need to hate it.”

  “Why are you so dead-set against having fun with Aidan? You guys had a fantastic time in Illinois. It sounds like you were having fun today too, so what’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is that I don’t need complications or entanglements. I have my plans laid out, and the last thing I want is Aidan making me rethink them.”

  “Is that what’s happening here, Whit? Are you rethinking what you want out of life?”

  I sigh. It’s a deep, heavy sound full of disappointment, regret, and failure. “I don’t know. I’m confused, and I dislike that immensely.”

  Lindsey moves closer to me and pulls me in for a hug. “You know, life isn’t supposed to be fully scripted and perfectly executed. It’s okay not to know where you’re going or who will take you there. Mystery can all be part of the fun if you just relax and go with the flow now and then.”

  I groan. “You know I’m not good with surprises. I want a plan. I want order. And I don’t want to rely on anyone else for my happiness - especially a man. That brand of happiness has only ended in more misery. I’d rather do without.”

  Lindsey smiles. “Fine. But do you plan to be celibate the rest of your life?”

  I think about that a moment. “I hadn’t thought about it that much.”

  She hands me another beer. “Do you think about sex at all?”

  I’m taking as sip and almost choke. “I’m single, not dead. Of course I do.”

  “Well, unless you plan to keep a battery operated boyfriend around, you need to rethink this plan of yours.”

  Thankfully my drink is on the table this time because it takes a moment for her statement to sink in. “Ugh. I hate this.”

  “If you want my advice, just enjoy spending time with him. Have fun, flirt, and remember that it’s okay not to know where it’s leading.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that without becoming emotionally invested.”

  She leans back in her chair. “You were able to in Illinois, why not now?”

  That’s a good question. When I knew it was a one-time thing, I didn’t let worries over the future bother me. It’s not like Aidan is asking me to marry him. It’s just having fun - no strings. I can do that, right? But the more I think about it, the more I’m sure that spending time with him is flirting with disaster. Especially since I’m afraid I may already have feelings for him.

  It’s Sunday - just over a week since the moment with Aidan in the fun house. He’s called almost every day so far, but I haven’t answered my phone. I’ll fully admit I’m hiding—I’m terrified of the way I feel around him. Even listening to his voice mail messages sends an unwanted thrill through me. This will never do. I can’t be the person Lindsey suggested I become. My emotions are too vulnerable - floating just on the surface and waiting to be pushed back under. It’s not that I think Aidan is a bad guy, or that he’d hurt me on purpose. Love just isn’t in the cards for me, or stars, or whatever cliché idiom is popular these days. It’s simply a truth of my life that I’ve learned to accept and why I’m determined to avoid relationships.

  If I could learn to avoid physical attraction, maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. But I think I was sold on being with Aidan the moment he smiled at me. Or maybe it was the pancake slaying. It could be the way he treated Mabel at the diner. Hell, who am I kidding; it was all of the above, and then some. He’s undeniably sex-on-a-stick, and any woman with eyeballs and a functioning libido would be lying if they said otherwise. For some reason, he has set his sights on me, at least for now. I wish I could relax and enjoy the attention, but he’s not the kind of guy you just walk away from when it’s all over. This is the sort of thing that will leave me devastated and broken. If I give in to Aidan Walsh, it’s inevitable that I’ll eventually end up in a pile of smoldering ashes. When the smoke clears, I’ll be an even bigger mess than ever before. I can’t take that chance. It’s too big a risk to my emotional health and sanity.

  My phone rings, and I look down to see a number I don’t recognize.

  “Hello?”

  “Whitney, it’s Aidan.”

  Wondering if he’s got two cell phones, I sigh. “Hi, Aidan.”

  His tone is rigid, and I get the impression he’s fighting to stay calm. “Listen, I know you don’t want to talk to me, although it beats the hell out of me as to why. But right now I need your help with Caleb.”

  I feel a ripple of fear race through me. “Is he okay?”

  “I’m not sure. He’s locked himself in his room and has refused to come out all day. I could strong-arm my way in, but I don’t think that’s the appropriate response. Rebecca is gone for the weekend, and I don’t know how to deal with this. I’m just...” His voice breaks a little, and it emphasizes just how worried he is. “I’m not good with this kind of thing. This is something his mother was suited for. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

  It’s the first time I’ve heard Aida
n mention Caleb’s mother. His voice is quiet and despondent.

  I clear my throat. “Sure, I’m happy to help if I can. What do you need me to do?”

  “Can you come over? Maybe coax him out of his room so we can talk to him?”

  “I can try.” I jot down his address and promise to be right there.

  I spare a quick thought over my appearance, then realize what I’m doing. I chide myself for caring what Aidan thinks. We will never be an item, and this visit is about helping Caleb, not impressing his father. My hair is almost dry from my recent shower, so I run a brush through it and leave it hanging down my back. I quickly slip on my boots and grab my jacket. Once inside Sir B, I start him up and drive the twenty minutes it takes to get to Aidan’s house.

  I pull into the drive and turn off the ignition. As I get out of the car I whistle to myself; the house is impressive. The large ranch-style home is fairly new and one of the nicest in town. The walkway is flanked by neatly-trimmed rose bushes. I can only imagine the aroma and beauty they add to the landscape when in full bloom. I approach the large wooden door and ring the bell. Aidan opens the door almost immediately after and just the sight of him sends my blood racing. I try to paste on a convincing smile - something comforting and friendly - but I’m not sure how well I’m pulling that look off. I probably resemble something more akin to a chicken aware it’s walking into the fox’s den. That’s certainly how it feels. Focus on Caleb, Whitney. He needs you.

  Aidan gives me a weary smile in return and motions for me to enter. As I pass him, he reaches behind me to shut the door. For a brief moment, I can feel him behind me, and it’s unsettling. I have to fight every urge to turn and run.

  I move farther into the foyer instead. “So, tell me what happened. How did this all start?”

  He runs a hand through his hair, and I can’t help but notice that it’s longer than it used to be. When he removes his fingers from his brown locks, it leaves them sticking up in a haphazard fashion. Worry is etched on his face, and when I look into his eyes, I see the extent of his misery.