by Sarah Cole
chapter 9
LESSON #9: ALWAYS MAKE SURE YOU’RE FULLY CLOTHED BEFORE ANSWERING YOUR DOOR.
VERITY:
Friday rolls around, and I’ve spent the past several days going out of my mind. It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date that wasn’t a group date set up by Tally or another one of my friends. I’ve been chatting with Hunter off and on via texts and a phone call, but I don’t know what the heck I’m doing, what I should wear, if I should shave and wax my lady bits and legs, or just bury my head and cry. Scratch that, I am indeed going to bury my head and cry because I am one hundred percent down with the sickness. Yes, that was a Disturbed reference. I bet you pegged me as more of a Britney or Beyoncé type of girl, and I am, one hundred percent. I just know that reference because they play that song in my spin class, also referred to as the spinning pits of hell.
“Verity, you look like absolute shit. Go home.” The Feminazi says from behind me as I rub my face around on my sleek white desk, trying to find another cool spot on it to lay my head.
“But I have to finish editing the Budget Beauty piece.” I halfheartedly try and suck up the puddle of drool that has started to form beneath me.
“No, you need to go home before you infect this entire office. We go to press in six days with this holiday issue, and I can’t have the entire office coming down with the flu or whatever it is you are incubating here at your work station.” She waves her hand around, as if she swatting the germs out of midair. I blame Tally, she’s been gone since after her date night, and I only get one word answers when I text her. All she says is that she’s dying or she’s dead. Then, she texted me the word, penis, which I’ll dismiss as part of a fever dream.
“It’s just allergies.” I lie, trying to focus on Ashley’s face, but there’s two of her.
“Bullshit. Talitha has been gone for the past three days, and you guys are stuck together like bad hair extensions on a reality star. Go home, and don’t come back until you are fever free. Just make sure I have those edits in my inbox before Tuesday.” I nod at hear and I feel the tears well in my eyes. I have no idea why I’m crying. I just feel that awful, and I want my mommy, but she’s at a conference at a college in Chicago speaking about gender roles and wage disparity in the workplace.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Ashley looks at me with disapproval. “Don’t you cry here. Bridgette has been crying enough for all of you with her breakup and whatnot. Jesus, I’m going to have to put a sign up or send out a memo or something. No crying in common areas.” She gives me another look before prowling back to her office.
***
I drag myself through my front door, setting my things down on the table and stumble out of my heels. Luckily, I didn’t wear any makeup today since every part of my face seems to be leaking or sneezing. I slip out of my dress pants, thankful that I’ve got on a soft sweater and face plant into my covers. My face hurts, my skin hurts, my throat hurts, and I’m just going to make friends with my pillow for a bit before I call Hunter. I know he had to work the day shift today.
I hear an incessant knocking and I stumble out of bed, shivering and aching as I shuffle through my dark apartment to the door. I switch on the lamp, squinting into the blinding light of the sixty watt bulb, and open the door to find Hunter standing there with an arm full of flowers. He’s dressed in a nice pair of charcoal dress slacks and a blue button up. He looks amazing, but his eyes widen as he looks at me, and his eyes drop and his mouth hangs open before he turns his back to me abruptly.
It takes me probably a lot longer than it should to realize he’s here for our date, and I never woke up and called him. It takes me just another moment to realize that I answered the door in only a cashmere sweater and underwear.
“First, let me say that I feel overdressed. Second, I would be offended that you’re ditching our date if I didn’t notice that you look incredibly ill.” Hunter jokes.
“I’m so sorry, Hunter.” I rasp out before I begin coughing. He turns around to face me and he doesn’t even bother to sneak another peek below the waist. I find it unbelievably sweet, but also just a smidge disappointing because I know I’m wearing my good underwear. Yep, all the elastic is intact on these puppies.
“You are going to take a bath and get into some pajamas, then get back into bed. Where are your vases?” Hunter asks as he ushers me back through the open door and into my apartment.
“Under the sink.” I sniffle, and I shuffle back to my bed. I have zero energy. My inner drumming bunny has taken the day off. He moves around in the kitchen for a few minutes before entering my bedroom. He spots me on the bed and then heads into my bathroom, flipping on the light and turning on the tub. I realize how insanely lucky I am I have a tub in this building. I may pay four hundred more a month for it, but in my mind, it is so worth it.
I feel Hunter’s muscular arms pull me from my bed and carry me to my bathroom. “You’re burning up, Verity.” He says as he sets me gently on my feet, and pulls the shower curtain back. “I’m going to leave you alone and let you relax. I’ve got to go do something really quick, but I’ll be right back. Don’t fall asleep in the tub.” He says, placing an unexpected kiss on my forehead.
“Wait, you’re coming back? Why?” I ask.
“You didn’t think you were going to get out of our first date that easily did you?”
“First date? As in you plan on having more than one?”
“If I have any say, then yeah.” He smiles and taps his hand on the sink before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. I crack open the bathroom door and watch him move towards the front door before I retreat back into my steamy little bathroom. I smile at the bubbly bath that he ran for me. Too bad I just want to drown myself in it so I can put myself out of misery.
I yank off my sweater and finish getting undressed before I slide into the warm water. It feels good, but unfortunately does little to soothe my aching body. It was a sweet gesture that gives me butterflies in my tummy… wait no. That’s nausea. I launch myself over the side of the tub and stick my head in the toilet – because yes, my bathroom is that small. Once I finish reliving the scene from The Exorcist, I decide that this bath would be a whole lot nicer if my teeth weren’t chattering together like a cartoon character in a haunted house. I quickly wash myself and rinse off, brush my teeth, and get back to my room. I wonder if he was serious about coming back. Just in case I better wear my good yoga pants. You know, the ones without the holes in the crotch… but on second thought, maybe the holes in the crotch aren’t such a bad thing… no! Good yoga pants it is! I grab them out of my drawer, find a clean t-shirt and a soft wrap cardigan, throw everything on and twist my damp hair up.
Instead of laying back down in bed like I really want to do, I decide to occupy my favorite spot on the couch, wrapping myself in an oversized fuzzy blanket. After staring at the blank television for far too long, I hear the lock click on the front door and it swings open as Hunter walks in. He tosses my keys into the basket I keep on the table by the door and he sets the bags he’s holding on the countertop.
“You came back.”
He looks over at me and a warm smile pulls at his lips. Grabbing something from the counter, he walks over, now dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. “I told you I would. I’m a man of my word.” He sits down beside me and hands me an open bottle of water and a couple gel caps. “Take those, they should help with the fever and alleviate some of the congestion.”
“Thank you.” I smile.
“Sure thing, pretty girl.” He replies, just studying me.
“What?”
“I just can’t believe how pretty you are. Even sick and not all made up, you’re still just beautiful.” He says.
“That’s sweet, but it won’t get you laid.”
“Not trying to get laid, sweetheart. At least not tonight.” He waggles his eyebrows at me. Then, I watch as he shifts his ass around on my couch with an odd expression on his face. I know what’
s coming next. It always does.
“This couch. Wow. Just wow. Now I know what Tanner was talking about…” he marvels, bouncing slightly while rubbing his hands along the cream-colored linen. It’s probably wrong that I find him bouncing on my couch so attractive, but if you had Hunter Williams bouncing on your couch looking like a Hemsworth and Channing Tatum had a man baby, your mind would go dirty places too. Just saying.
“Sorry.” he coughs a manly cough, stopping his bounce-a-thon.
“Quite alright. Happens more often than not.” I try to conceal my smile.
“You hungry? You should probably eat something since you took that medicine.”
“I got sick to my stomach while you were gone, so maybe something light?”
He reaches out to feel my forehead, his face awash with concern. “You still feel like you’ve got a fever. Just sit tight, and find something you want to watch and I’ll fix us something.”
“You’re going to cook?” I raise my eyebrow. I’m skeptical of any man that offers to cook. Why, you ask? Because the last two times, I’ve had to choke down crunchy noodles and some form of canned or processed protein while the guy just looks at me like he expects me to just drop my panties and let him come at me like a Central Park squirrel in springtime.
“Sure am, and stop looking at me like that. I’m not an asshole. I don’t expect anything from you. I legitimately just want to spend some time getting to know you.” he says, and I scoff. If I had a nickel for every time I heard that, I’d have a nickel. This guy is good.
I turn back around snuggling further into the blanket and grab the remote. I switch it to Netflix and scroll through the categories, and ultimately decide on a comedy. I would typically go for a romance, but he doesn’t need to see me cry. I can’t show him all the crazy at once; he’s already seen enough.
“Verity’s must haves: a guide to finding forever.” Hunter says, and I think I might throw up again as I find some sort of superhero strength from deep within, and launch myself from the couch and race to the kitchen. It’s only like ten feet, but in my mind, I ran a marathon. He must be silenced. “Number one. Find a man who is in touch with his emotions – reads poetry, writes music, cries at the ASPCA commercials and won’t just change the channel. Number two. Find a man who embraces a woman’s right to be independent and isn’t intimidated by intelligence and the drive for equality in the relationship. Number three. Find a man who likes you more than sex and spor-” I snatch the paper out of his hands, and his eyes flash with humor.
“What is that?” He asks.
“My list.”
“You’re going to base who you decide to marry on a list you made at...The Vine wine bar?” he questions, peering over to read the name.
“Maybe.” I reply defensively, tucking the paper to my chest protectively. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with knowing what you want.”
“That’s true, but some of those are kind of superficial. Hell, my parents are complete opposites and have been happily married and in love for nearly forty years. I’m a firm believer that you don’t really get to choose who you fall in love with. It just happens.” He shrugs, still smiling.
Damn it. He’s got me there, but I know my reasons behind that list, and I stand behind them. “Let me show you.” he says.
“Huh?” I ask, showing off my super awesome vocabulary.
“Let me show you that list you made isn’t everything.” He explains.
“We barely know each other. I don’t even know if I like you yet.” I say, but who am I kidding. I could see myself falling for this guy, and that is bad news bears. This is what gets me into trouble every time.
“You like me.” He says cockily. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be in here making you dinner and snuggling up on that sweet ass couch of yours.” It’s always about that damn couch, but he’s right. I would have told him to go already.
“Alright.” I agree.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Just don’t break my heart, Hunter Williams.” I say into his warm chest as he pulls me into a hug.
“Same goes for you, Verity Peterson. Because I think you could break me.” he says softly, hugging me closer.
***
Holy hot bananas, Batman! I don’t know if I’m hot from the fever, or if my insides are literally melting. That man. I have nothing. No words. Ok, that’s a complete and total lie. I have lots of words- all the time, but none of them want to form into a coherent thought. So, I’m left with gibberish and utterances of single words like, hot, sweet, funny, and man. Also, short phrases like, smells so good, strong arms and abs, cooks edible food, and likes to snuggle. I grab my phone from the ottoman and lock my door. Ignoring the fact that it is past midnight I slide into bed and dial Tally’s number.
The phone rings for several rings before it picks up and I hear rustling on the other end of the line and a groan. No doubt from the Rick Astley ring tone I set my ringer to on her phone. Nothing says I love my best friend like getting Rick Rolled at half past midnight.
“I don’t know if I should worship at your feet for that ringtone, or strangle you with your curling iron cord.” She mumbles into the phone.
“I’ll take option one please.” I honk, because I sound like a goose with a stuffed-up nose.
“Well at least I can take comfort in the fact you probably feel as shitty as you sound.” She retorts. “What’s going on?”
“Hunter Williams.”
“Oh, did you go on your date?” she asks.
“Kind of.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I am sick with your germs. Thank you by the way, and Ashley sent me home from work early. I fell asleep and forgot to cancel the date, so, Hunter shows up with flowers and looking snappy in some nice dress clothes and I answer the door in underwear and a sweater with dried snot and spit stuck to my face.”
I hear a muffled laugh from her end, “Oh Verity. You’re a mess.”
“Don’t I know it…but, then he ran me a bath and left and came back with comfortable clothes on. He brought medicine and stuff to make dinner, and we just talked and watched a couple movies.” I say, replaying the night in my mind.
“Well, shit. Did he ask you for sex?”
“Um, no…” I reply.
“Did he put off a gay vibe?”
“Tally…” I warn. “No.”
“Then my darling, you might have just found yourself a keeper. You already know what he does for a living, so he can’t lie about that. Tanner knows him, so he can’t really hide any other scary secrets. So, why are you worried?” She knows me too well. She’s like a shark; she can smell my fear. Wait. Is that a shark or…? Never mind.
I let out an overly dramatic sigh, “He’s perfect. He’s everything I’d typically be attracted to, but that’s what worries me. You and I both know how that turned out every other time.”
“Listen to me. You are a beautiful, intelligent, successful woman and you deserve to find someone that treats you well. Woman, you know I know a tosser when I see one, but there aren’t any red flags here. Just give him a chance… get to know him, talk to him. Then if you like him – keep him.”
“Oh, why do you always have to make so much sense? It really isn’t fair. You get the brains, beauty and the accent.”
She rolls her eyes at me for like the thousandth time. Ok, so I can’t actually see her rolling her eyes at me right now, but I know Tally. And I know that right now she’s rolling her eyes at me. I swear that if she keeps doing it, what my mom says will come true, and her eyes will get stuck that way. She’ll be stuck looking at the ceiling for eternity…mwahahahaha.
“Why are you laughing like that?” She interrupts.
“Hmmm?”
“All mwahahaha… like a cartoon villain? You really are a strange little woman, Verity. But even with your flaws, I think you’re alright.”
“Oh, gee wiz, thanks!”
“I think you need to get some rest… goodnight, Ver.�
�
“Nighty night, Tals.”
“Just text him in the morning, and see where it goes. Okay?”
“Alright, you win.”
“I always do. Bye, love.”
We end the call, and I snuggle into bed. Everything in my body hurts, but my heart feels surprisingly light for once. Maybe Tally is right this time. Ok, maybe she’s right all the time, but maybe this time I’ll actually listen to her the first time. Hunter does seem like a great guy. Here’s to hoping that he’s the right guy, list or no list.
HUNTER:
When Verity answered her door, I was shocked, but it only took me a second to realize she was not feeling well at all, and she looked genuinely panicked. I had to try like hell not to stare at her long, gloriously bare legs. I didn’t want to give off the creep vibe, because it only took one look at her tonight for something inside me to flip, and the need to make this woman mine spread like wildfire in my veins. I can’t explain it, and I wish I could, but I had this urge to take care of and protect her. Some serious cave man shit reared its ugly head, and something tells me based on that stupid list, this girl isn’t down for that.
That list. If she didn’t look like she was about to pass out or puke, I would’ve tossed her over my shoulder and carried her to her bedroom to prove how stupid that is. You can’t base chemistry on a list she probably wrote while drunk at a wine bar. So, I’m going to do this the only other way. I’m going to force her beautifully stubborn ass into admitting that while I probably don’t fit ninety seven percent of the qualities on that list – because let’s be honest, I can’t watch that ASPCA commercial – damn you Sarah McLachlan, we’re still perfect for each other.
I know you’re thinking, “How does he know? They just met.” The honest answer is, I don’t know, but I have a feeling. A good feeling. We met a bit unconventionally, but she had this wit and sass that I loved – didn’t hurt that she’s beautiful. Then I just couldn’t get her out of my head, and the next couple times I saw her, that attraction compounded. She’s my girl; no other way around it.