by Sloan Storm
But this time it was directed at me and not my friends.
Hypnotized by his motion, I felt my pulse quicken as his finger moved away. I leaned in close to the bar, tucked my elbows into my sides and reached for my day planner. After I’d closed myself off from him, I shook my head and muttered a reply as I tried to focus on my to-do list.
“No. It doesn’t signify anything. It’s just a piece of jewelry.”
“Hmm,” he grumbled after a few seconds of silence. “Well, that’s a lie.”
With my hands hooked around the sides of my planner, I turned my head towards him. I felt a sudden swell of indignation at his insinuation.
“Excuse me?” I said in a rising tone.
He gulped his beer for a leisurely moment or two before placing the mug back down the bar. Rivulets of water trickled down the sides of it as condensation formed on the surface of the glass.
“What?” he said as he looked back at me. “What did I say?”
“You called me a liar. That’s what.”
“No, I said you told me a lie,” he said, with that annoying smirk again. “Everyone lies. It doesn’t mean you’re a liar. Why are you so uptight anyway? Pretty girl like you…”
As soon as he said those words, I felt my neck flush. Shit. I hated when that happened. There was nothing I could do about it. Just another one of the reasons I chose to keep myself covered up most of the time. My emotions betrayed me often, so I’d learned to hide them. I turned away from him and reached for my soda.
“Nothing to say, huh?” he chided, as I snatched my beverage.
I swallowed a sip of the ice cold liquid. As the lemony-sweet sparkle tickled its way down my throat, I glanced back at him. I didn’t reply but instead looked straight ahead and placed my drink down on the bar. As I did, I noticed him shake his head in my peripheral vision before he picked up his mug.
“Not very good at taking compliments, I see.”
“I’m sorry,” I replied, as I continued to avoid his gaze. “I’m just waiting for my friends. I’d like to be left alone, please.”
He scoffed just before he took a sip. “Another lie.”
Not wishing to be toyed with any longer, I thinned my lips and snapped my head in his direction. “There’s plenty of other women here for you to charm. Now, I’ve asked you politely. Please don’t disturb me.”
“Oh,” he replied. “So you find me charming?”
“What?” I said, with a shake of my head. Still looking in his direction, I continued, “No. That’s not what I said.”
“Sure it is. It’s okay, I…”
“No,” I said, correcting him. I felt a frown crease my brow. “I don’t find you charming at all. If you must know, I find you… annoying.”
The man turned his upper body towards me. A smile spread tight across his face, barely restraining his teeth while forming two perfect dimples on either side of his mouth.
“Well, now we’re getting somewhere,” he said with a chuckle. “Pleasure to meet you. My name’s Gabe. And you are…”
I grimaced at his persistence. Short of getting up and walking off, it looked as if this conversation wasn’t ending anytime soon. And until my friends arrived to meet me for dinner, I really had no choice but to hold him at bay.
“Fiona,” I muttered.
“Fiona,” he parroted. His tone had a lyrical pitch to it, almost as if he sung it. When he finished, he slid his hand across the bar in a gesture of greeting until it drew within a few inches of my sweater-covered fingers.
After a subtle nod of his chin, more charm sputtered from his lips.
“Can I see your whole hand, or is that moving too fast?”
I fought like mad against a smile which threatened to betray me. Instead, I bit the inside of my lip and moved my palm toward his. As Gabe took my fingers in his hand he squeezed them a bit for emphasis, causing me to look in his direction. His digits were warm, soothing and masculine. He held me there for a moment until at last, he released his grip. I swallowed and looked away as his gaze lingered on me.
God, where the hell are my friends?
After another second or two he spoke and gestured towards my planner.
“So whatcha got there, Fiona? Looks really… official.”
Official was hardly the word I’d use to describe my planner. My entire life revolved around it and had for at least the last five years of my existence, especially now. Not that someone like him would understand. Everything about Gabe seemed casual, carefree. Just by the look of him, he was the type who glided through life without a worry in the world. Well, not all of us were so lucky. Or free from worry. Anyway, Gabe was about as opposite from me as he could possibly be.
“It’s nothing,” I said with a dismissive tone. “I just use it to stay organized.”
“I see,” he said with a nod. “Impressive. Well done, looks like a lot of organization.”
I shook my head.
Nearly finished with his beer now, Gabe took another pull of the golden fluid. Putting his glass down, he continued, “So what brings you here tonight? Pretty lady like yourself…?”
That’s the second time he’d called me pretty.
I didn’t answer. Rather, I pretended to be looking around the restaurant for my hopelessly late, so-called friends.
“You’re not used to much attention from men are you, Fiona?” he said, leaning in towards me. “All covered up, nose in your planner… a little hostile.”
“I am not hostile!” I snapped. As before, a number of people seated nearby took notice of my outburst. I closed my eyes in a blink of frustration before opening them towards him once more.
“Hey,” Gabe said as he leaned away a bit. “Take it easy. What’s with the attitude?”
“I’m sorry.” I moaned as I crossed my hands together over the top of my planner. “Listen, I’m just here to have dinner with my friends. That’s all. I don’t understand why you won’t leave me alone.”
Gabe ignored me. I might as well have said nothing.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked.
“Um, well I’ve just landed a big interview. They wanted to take me out and celebrate. It’s not something I would normally do, but they insisted.”
“What do you mean? Not something you would normally do?”
“Oh,” I said with a hard swallow. “What I meant to say is I don’t like being the center of attention.”
“Why?”
Why?
Well, let’s see… Um, it’s because I’m the mom of the group? The one everyone comes to for help with their problems. They talk to me about everything that’s wrong, with men most of all. It’s not that I minded so much. I liked helping my friends. But sometimes it would be nice if someone did the same for me.
Just once.
Of course I could say all of those things to him. But what would be the point? It’s not as if I would ever see him again, or if I did, he would remember my name, or hell, even talking to me.
So instead, I did the sensible thing.
I lied.
“Well, when I was a child, I won a lot of beauty pageants,” I began. “The attention I received in those early years scarred me for life. So nowadays, I much prefer to keep to myself. I’ll leave the attention-getting to the other girls.”
I raised my arms, clutching my sweater-clad fingers for emphasis. For an instant, Gabe tented his eyebrows at me in confusion before a smile came to his face.
“Good one, Fiona,” he said, with a wink and a bit of a chuckle. “That was clever. Well, in any case, congratulations on beauty contest victories and the interview.”
“Thank you.”
I nodded and prepared to speak, but before I could, Gabe gestured across the room to a group of men as they entered the bar.
“My buddies are here,” he said, just before he polished off the last of his beer.
With that, he stood from his barstool and after reaching in his pocket, he tossed some money on the bar for his drink. He walke
d by me and pressed his palm into the small of my back. He leaned in towards me, stopping only six inches or so short of my ear. He lingered there for a moment and his scent caught my attention—and my breath.
“Good luck at your interview, Fiona. Congratulations again.”
2
Friction (Gabe)
As I walked away from her, I dragged my fingertips across Fiona’s lower back for a fraction of a second. My gesture didn’t go unnoticed. I felt her twitch into an upright position but true to the shy behavior she’d shown me so far, she didn’t turn to look at me.
Fiona wasn’t ordinarily the type of woman I found myself attracted to, of course. I was all but sure the guys wouldn’t let my interaction with her go unnoticed. I wouldn’t have, if the situation was reversed.
But in this case, I didn’t care.
She had an angelic face, with absolutely perfect lips, the most spectacular ones I’d ever seen on a woman. And believe me, I’d seen my share. Beyond that, she had flawless, creamy skin, bright powder blue eyes and silky blond hair.
I’d never seen anything like her, in spite of her covered up appearance. If I was a betting man, I’d say maybe she’d lost some weight and hadn’t quite adjusted to her new look. And anyway, she was young. I guessed early twenties at the most, so that would explain her awkwardness to a degree.
But all that was okay by me. I liked her feisty attitude. It was so much different than the other women in my life. Yet, that’s the advantage of meeting someone like her in a place like this, anonymity. No pretense. I get to just be myself and not the person everyone imagines me to be.
So yeah, it was pretty obvious she didn’t get hit on much. But I didn’t see things staying that way for long. Once you got past her gruffness, it was pretty obvious there was someone worth getting to know beneath all that clothing and standoffishness.
I made my way across the restaurant, dodging waiters and waitresses as I went.
“What’s up?” I nodded as I approached my friends.
“Man, I should be asking you the same question,” my friend Brad replied, as I stepped towards him.
“What are you talking about?”
He nodded, lifting his chin in Fiona’s direction. “Not really your type.”
“Mmm, yeah,” I began as I glanced towards her. Without turning back to face Brad, I continued, “You’re right, she doesn’t look anything like your mom does she?”
“Fuck off, Gabe.”
I chuckled when Brad gave me a small shove to go along with his insult. As I did, the rest of the fellas laughed right along. A few seconds later, the hostess approached and led us towards our table. Walking across the room, I glanced at Fiona and caught her doing the same at me. Her eyes widened as my gaze locked on hers and almost as soon, she turned her attention back towards that ridiculous planner.
I bet she slept with the damn thing.
We’d been seated for about ten minutes or so when I noticed Fiona headed in my direction, surrounded by what I guessed were her friends. I glanced up over the top of my menu and got my first good look at her body. She was a bit bigger than her friends, who were more like the type of woman I typically preferred.
Even so, I was familiar with women like Fiona.
Ten times out of ten, she was usually the woman I had to get close to so I’d have a chance to seduce her attractive friends without having to worry about her cockblocking me at two o’clock in the morning. In my experience, it was always worth the time investment to get women like Fiona on your side.
Yet, as I watched her draw near, I realized that wasn’t the case with her. She glanced at me once more as she passed by the table and held my gaze with the first show of confidence I’d seen from her. It sent a charge through my body, straight to my crotch. My head swiveled as she continued by and I watched her ass snap while her hips swayed back and forth.
“What are you getting, Gabe?” Brad asked. “Didn’t you say the steak tartare was good here?”
Barely listening, I kept my eyes glued on her as she slid into the booth, surrounded on all sides by her friends. One by one, they each looked at me, only to turn back to Fiona a moment or so later. Teasing her, from the looks of it.
“Gabe…” Brad said, as he spoke up.
“Hmm?” I replied. I turned back towards him. “Yeah?”
Brad scowled in my direction and looked past me towards the booth where Fiona sat.
“You’re way out of her league, man,” he said as he shook his head. Turning his attention back towards his menu, he continued, “What’s gotten into you?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.
Without lifting his head, Brad arched an eyebrow in my direction. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I said, as I crossed my arms at my chest. Leaning back in my chair, I nodded in Fiona’s direction. “Tell me what’s wrong with her.”
Brad closed his menu and after a hard swallow, decided to take me up on my challenge.
“Well, I mean, look at her. Yeah, she’s pretty enough but she’s…” his voice trailed off.
I tented my eyebrows at him, daring him to continue. All the other guys at the table watched as tension between us grew with each second that passed.
“She’s what, man?”
“Gabe look, just forget it. If you want to hook up with a big girl, be my guest.”
I thinned my lips and glared at him. “Take it back, shithead.”
Exasperated, Brad looked back at me. “Man, I don’t care. Go talk to her.”
“Take it back or we take it outside.”
“What?” he scoffed. “Come on man, chill. I’m not trying to start anything with you.”
A couple of ‘take it easy’s’ and ‘calm down’s’ filled the silence between us as the rest of the guys tried to soothe my burgeoning anger.
“Take it back!” I said, pointing at him across the table.
“Dude, fuck. Fine!” Brad said as he leaned away from me. “Forget I said anything.”
After I glared at him for a moment, I reached for a glass of ice water. Tilting it up to my lips, I hammered it back until the cubes collected around my mouth. After a final hard swallow, I placed it back down on the bright white of the tablecloth.
“We good?” he asked.
“Don’t talk to me right now, man.” I muttered as I waved him off.
An uneasy peace returned to the table as everyone raised their menus back to eye level. Instead of looking at mine, I glanced back towards her, and once again I caught Fiona looking. Her gaze fell away from me with an unhurried pace as she rejoined the conversation with her friends.
I shook my head for a moment, wondering what had come over me. Even though I might have disagreed with him, Brad did have a point. But, so what? It’s not like I was going to see her again.
And the way she behaved, Brad had her pegged. She wasn’t comfortable with herself. She probably had her hands tucked inside of her sleeves this instant. I chewed my lip as I considered the challenge a woman like her would present. That’s not something I wanted any part of anyway. I wasn’t in the people-fixing business.
But she did have some pretty friends.
3
Pressure Is On (Fiona)
“Quit looking over there you guys,” I groaned.
“Why?” my friend Christine replied. “You keep doing it.”
I slunk down into the booth a bit, horrified I’d been caught looking at Gabe and now having to explain myself.
“He’s cuuuute,” hummed my other friend Ellie. “What’s his name?”
Clutching my sweater sleeves inside my palms, I felt moisture come to my skin as my friends interrogated me about him. Besides Ellie and Christine, there were my two other friends, Kelly and Cheri. They were all beauties, who unlike me fought men off on a daily basis. In fact, the only time men usually talked to me was when we were all out together and they wanted to get close to one of them. Now that the situation reversed itself, I was literally like the
proverbial fish out of water.
“Fiona…” Ellie said with a leading tone in her voice. “I’m not gonna ask you a third time. What. Is. His. Name?”
I chewed the inside of my lip for a moment before reaching up and tugging a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Gabe,” I muttered.
“Wooo…” Cheri cooed. “Angelic.”
“You’re going to have to get used to this kind of thing, Fiona.” Ellie added.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You’re gorgeous.” Ellie said. “You know, finally coming out of your shell. Men are going to notice.” She glanced back over and sucked her lower lip in as a flash of lust came to her eyes. “I wish he’d notice me. If you don’t want him, I’d gladly take him off your hands.”
“You guys are being ridiculous, okay?” I groaned, as I shrugged off their comments. “Our conversation was really awkward. And anyway, it doesn’t matter. There’s no way he’d be interested in me.”
Just then, the waitress appeared, providing me with a much needed respite from their relentless grilling. As the girls asked questions about the menu, I peeked over Ellie’s shoulder back in Gabe’s direction only to find him staring straight at me.
What the hell am I doing to myself? This is ridiculous, Fiona. Stop it. Now.
Sinking down into the cool leather of the booth a bit further, I tugged my sweater down over my curves before reaching up to grab my menu. I was being stupid. Now was not the time to lose focus. Not after all the years I’d put in to get to where I was. Tomorrow was too important and this discussion was nothing more than pure silliness.
Wasting time fantasizing about it wouldn’t help me one bit when I interviewed at Hawkins Biotech. It literally was my dream job. Something I’d lusted after ever since I decided what I wanted to do for a career ten years earlier. I’ve heard that’s what tragedy does to a person. It focuses their priorities in life. I’d never really given the notion too much credence though. It was natural for me to plan, think ahead. You know… budget, calculate, count, save and control.