Exposed: Book One of The Love Seekers Series

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Exposed: Book One of The Love Seekers Series Page 16

by Vickers, Maria


  Well, Mel would tell him. She was the type of person who forced me to go to karaoke “kicking and screaming,” and somehow convinced me it was for my own good. Yeah right. Own good? Nope. I was convinced everything centered around Mel, and what she thought benefited her. I was 98% certain.

  Did I have to go? Technically, I reached what the U.S. considered an adult over a decade ago, which meant I could make my own decisions. But thinking about Bryan and everything he had done for me, I thought it might be best if I made a small appearance. This didn’t mean he was right—even though he was—however, if I wanted to find someone to spend the rest of my life with, I had to actually put myself out there.

  Facing one’s inner demons, though, was never easy. For every time I encountered rejection due to my illness, I closed myself off a little more. My walls got a little higher, a little thicker, and more impenetrable. I had gotten to the point where I hated meeting new people. And while rejection hurt, in many ways, I had come to expect it each and every time. Maybe that was the problem: expecting it. But if I anticipated it, it meant I never felt disappointed. Hurt, but not disappointed.

  Bryan told me men found confident women sexy. I lost my confidence a long time ago. I could fake it with the best Oscar winning actresses, but I didn’t believe in myself any longer. Even when I had self-esteem issues prior to everything, I still carried myself well, letting most things roll off my back. My self-esteem issues were of my own making back then.

  As a Navy brat, I tended to move from place to place every couple of years. For introverts, one of two things were bound to happen: they forced themselves to act like or become an extrovert, or they become a loner without friends, who didn’t talk to anyone. I chose option one because moving from place to place, even I knew I would be moving soon, I wanted at least one friend. One person I confided in since I knew from an early age my sister would not be that person for me. I chose people over loneliness.

  To this day, my family swears up and down I was an extrovert since at least first grade. The stress and anxiety I experienced putting on my act, the times I cried in the bathroom or quietly in my room…they witnessed none of it. If I wanted, I could talk to a room full of strangers, strike up a conversation, but I only did it because I learned to adapt and cope with my surroundings. It was the Navy way, and what all military brats did. We found ways to adapt and deal with our new surroundings. Sometimes we pretended, putting on an entire stage production, and sometimes we hid.

  When my dad retired and moved us to Texas, I saw a couple of girls playing on a sand pile, but one stood out more than the other. We exchanged glares, sizing each other up. Neither broke the connection because neither of us wanted to lose our staring match, and in the end, neither of us won. I thought I might see that rude ass girl again in school, but much to my surprise, she came over to greet the new family on the street with her family. We became instant friends.

  Fifteen years later, Gia and I were still best friends. From day one, she got around my walls and reached me. I never held anything back from her. It never happened to me before, and I could honestly say, it hadn’t happened since. Maybe I needed that connection, or maybe I believed that since my dad retired, I could finally make a lasting friend. I couldn’t say for sure, but it didn’t matter to me. She was the one I shared all of my deepest, darkest secrets with. She knew all of my hopes and dreams, my disappointments and hurts, and my triumphs and little successes. I knew the same about her since we told each other everything.

  My walls had been my comforter and protection for most of my life. They wrapped around me and refused to allow anyone entrance.

  Until now.

  Bryan had been chipping away at my walls, forcing me to expose myself. It scared me. What if the world couldn’t stand the woman within? Don’t get me wrong, at some point my fortress would need a drawbridge to allow that one special someone in, but I hadn’t met him yet…and I really didn’t believe I would. Unlike some people in my life, the very ones who constantly told me I had yet to meet the right one, I wasn’t sure a man existed that could accept all of my idiosyncrasies.

  I would try though. I had promised, and I never took my promises lightly.

  Forcing myself out of bed, I trudged into my bathroom and started the shower. Hopefully the hot water would rejuvenate me and make me feel less like a zombie and more like a human. And if that didn’t work, coffee existed for a reason. I probably had a small addiction to the hot liquid. With a little cream and sugar, it became pure manna.

  The feeling of normalcy started to return after I’d downed two cups, and was sipping my third. My conversation with Bryan melted away into the steaming sweet cup of heaven, which allowed me to push everything deep inside me once again, burying it, where I could ignore it completely.

  I had come a long way since the initial onset of my disease. It took me a long time to find a way to cope, but I had finally managed. Sometimes I buried some of the negative so that I didn’t feel like life was trying to drag me under.

  In the beginning, I tried to pretend MG did not exist in my life. Myasthenia gravis were ugly words that when spoken, were worse than swearing. I eventually got to the point I couldn’t pretend any longer. A trip to the hospital being unable to move could be a real eye opening experience. I was horrified by my body and scared shitless that I wouldn’t make it, or that I would be intubated for the respirator. I made it, and was never on the respirator. After two days in the hospital, they released me after giving me the name of a good counselor.

  After I started seeing her, I tried to face everything head on. Depression overwhelmed me, filling every cell in my body. I cried all the time and felt like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe because my chest felt so heavy, the weight of my world unbearable. My chains held me down, choking me, threatening to drown me. It was the only time I considered ending it all, but I hadn’t been able to go through with it, and my counselor talked me down off the ledge.

  Sometimes ignoring the darkness became the only way to cope. And sometimes, I had to face it head on in order to fulfill a promise.

  I had a choice to make: go to the party or stay home. If I chose the latter, it would require complete and utter radio silence. No computer, no phone, no tablet—absolutely nothing. Easier said than done, but if I stayed home, I needed to avoid detection. If I chose the former, the likelihood of me remaining a wallflower all night plummeted. I didn’t know how, why, or who, but I knew Bryan would make certain I didn’t remain antisocial during my stay at the party, and his accomplice probably had the name Mel.

  Really, how bad could it be?

  An hour at some stranger’s house meant I arrived, talked, socialized, and then I could leave. A solid plan, however, with Mel in the mix, I knew it would be difficult to stick to my guns. She was tenacious when she wanted something, and her deviousness knew no bounds. I had seen her convince a Marine to accept he was indeed part of the Navy. Not an easy feat considering there wasn’t a Marine alive who wanted to admit something like that. An impossible task made possible courtesy of Mel.

  My anxiety rose, making me consider staying home, but once again, I thought of Bryan. Since I had started talking to him, he never seemed very far away. If I chose to stay home or leave early, he would be disappointed, but that disappointment would be tempered with understanding. He understood me a little more than most and wanted to help me in spite of it all. I appreciated him and his concern more than he probably knew. That said, I doubted he would be too happy if I left early to go home, eat ice cream, and feel sorry for myself.

  And honestly, I hated disappointing him. He wanted to help me move on and find love, and I was trying to sabotage his grand master plan. Correction. I was trying to sabotage my own life. Sitting here all day, crying about my life and about how no guy would love me, didn’t change anything, and I sure as hell wouldn’t find someone hidden somewhere in my apartment waiting for me.

  I only had to go for an hour, and if I didn’t feel comfortable, or if some
one gave me that funny look when I walked in with my walker, I’d leave early without any regrets. If the opposite happened, I’d allow myself to relax a little, but the likelihood of staying longer than an hour was slim to none.

  Thinking about everything, overthinking it all, my nerves were dancing a rumba in my stomach and setting me on edge. I needed something to calm me down. Alcohol wouldn’t work because I had to drive.

  I unlocked my phone’s screen and clicked on Bryan’s name in FaceSpace. I felt like throwing up, and only he held the power to talk me through this.

  Me: Not sure if I can do this. What if I throw up on someone?

  Bryan: You won’t. You’ll be fine.

  Me: I put on extra deodorant and am still sweating like a pig. I swear I’ve changed my shirt 3 times.

  I slightly exaggerated my condition. I had only changed once, and that was because Curley stepped in a mud puddle right before he jumped on me. Brown paw prints on a white shirt…no one would notice, right?

  Bryan: LOL. I’m sure it’s not that bad. Just go and have fun. I told my friend to expect you.

  Me: Did u tell him everything?

  Bryan: Yes, so don’t worry. He knows you might need extra help getting into the house and around.

  Me: Into the house?

  Bryan: There’s a few steps leading to the front door. 4-5.

  Me: Can I stay home?

  His responses had been coming through quickly, but this time he delayed responding. He waited a full minute before he said anything.

  Bryan: You can, but if you really want to find love, you won’t.

  Me: U saying love is waiting for me at the BBQ?

  Bryan: No…maybe. But if you don’t take this step, it’ll be harder to take another one in the future.

  Me: I guess.

  Bryan: You know I’m right. ;)

  Me: Maybe.

  Bryan: And I’ll be waiting for a report when you get home.

  That struck me as strange considering Saturday night tended to be prime date night for many people. I figured he would find some girl to take out tonight, and wait until tomorrow to hear what happened at the party.

  Me: Not going out?

  Bryan: Date bailed on me and don’t feel like going to a bar to pick up someone. Sinuses have been shit lately anyway. With my luck, I’d sneeze on her and she’d freak.

  Me: LMAO.

  Bryan: Not that funny. Grrr.

  Me: Yes, it is. If u could see the image in my head, u’d laugh too.

  Bryan: Whatever.

  Me: Too bad u don’t live here. We could go to party together.

  Or I could bring u some soup.

  Bryan: That would be nice.

  Would it or was he just saying that to placate me? Why did I even care? I had an inkling of why I did, but I didn’t want to explore those feelings yet.

  Bryan: Go, have fun, and report in later. Much later.

  Me: I’m only staying an hour.

  Bryan: Give it an hour and if you are not having fun, lave, but if you are, stay.

  Me: Yes, sir! LOL.

  Bryan: Don’t get cocky.

  Me: I can’t. Ur the one with a cock.

  I thought we already had that talk. :P

  Bryan: I’ve created a fucking monster.

  Me: Hehe. U know u love me.

  Fuck! I hit enter before I could stop myself. I didn’t mean to send that, but I meant it as a joke. I wasn’t serious.

  Bryan: Whatever. Have fun, Em.

  Me: Will do. Sigh. I guess I have no choice.

  TTYL.

  Deep inside me, I felt the pull to stay and talk to him. I longed to give into that temptation, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t his type, he lived in San Diego, and I desperately needed to get over my crush. The sooner that happened, the better for me, but he wasn’t making it easy.

  Bryan: TTYL, Emma. :*

  Wait! Hold the presses! A kiss emoji? Had he used one before without me noticing, or was this the first time? What did it mean?

  I willed myself to calm down. To him, he probably meant the emoji as a friend giving another friend a peck on the cheek. Reading any more into it, I predicted ended in disaster. But my heart didn’t listen. It raced faster than NASCAR at Daytona. No. I forbade myself from overanalyzing it and getting my hopes up. If I allowed myself to think about it too much, I would somehow convince myself he returned my affections. I’ve had this talk with myself too many times already. It was time to move on and get over him, and this barbecue would be the perfect place to start.

  Chapter 20

  Emma

  My car rolled to a stop in front of the address Bryan had supplied. In one word, the house could be described as quaint. Painted the color of redwood with white trim, it reminded me of some of the older homes located in the smaller towns of Texas. Four steps led up to a screened in porch that had a wooden white porch swing. That swing would make the perfect setting for an evening of relaxation as I watched the sun set and sipped on a cool glass of sweet iced tea, swinging back and forth without a care in the world.

  And I felt nervous as hell about the fact I had to walk in there alone.

  Knowing Mel the way I did, I brought my own car so that if I wanted to leave early, I could. That had been my initial intent, however, as I was about to pull out of my parking spot in my apartment complex, Mel texted me and informed me she and Luke would be an hour or two late. An hour…or two? FUCK ME!

  I knew no one here, and Bryan’s great idea for a buffer just abandoned me to fend for myself. I considered going back inside my apartment to wait out the two hours because I did not want to go alone to a place I knew no one; but I also knew myself. If I didn’t leave right then and there, and the party would happen without me.

  Before I could change my mind, I peeled out of my parking space—in my nervous excitement, I accidentally threw my car into reverse, slammed on the accelerator, and almost hit the cars parked behind me. My tires screeched when I moved my foot to the break and stomped it into the floorboards. Good news: my seatbelts worked perfectly, and I had a bruise on my shoulder for proof.

  When I left the apartment, I was full of determination and gumption, but now that I had arrived and sat staring at a stranger’s house, my bravery left me, leaving me feeling unsure and hesitant. I wanted to throw up, but I hadn’t eaten anything this morning because my anxiety had made me too wired. Maybe a coffee run, or some sort of break would give me a small reprieve before I attempted to face my fears. Great plan.

  Great plans have flaws. I reinserted my keys into the ignition, and then heard a tap tap tap. My head whipped around to see who dared interrupt my perfect escape plan, and standing there wearing a dreaded Chicago Windstorm’s baseball cap, stood a man. I didn’t know who he was at all, therefore, instead of opening my door—anyone who wore a Windstorm’s cap could not be trusted—I turned on the engine and opened my window a crack. Sometimes I wished I still had a crank handle in my car so I didn’t have to bother going through the motions of starting it first.

  “Yes?” I asked with my guard up. The words stranger danger kept flashing like a Las Vegas billboard in my head.

  “Are you Emma?” His grin grew by the second, and I got the distinct impression he might be laughing at me.

  This man’s smile had the ability to lure in hapless females, and his slight British accent could make them melt. He was definitely not a Bryan, but I could feel the tiny jump in my heart. I was a sucker for foreign accents. That said, I wouldn’t drop my guard. “Yeah, I am.” Who the hell was this man?

  I guessed he finally noticed I had yet to open the door or roll down the window more than an inch. “I’m Bryan’s friend, Chad.”

  “Oh.”

  “I, uh, I saw you pull up. Do you need help getting out of the car?” He stammered. Suddenly, he seemed a little unsure of himself.

  My defenses skyrocketed. This man knew about me from Bryan, he knew I was disabled, but the last thing I wanted was for him to think me completely helpless.
I wasn’t helpless. I wasn’t an invalid. “No,” I answered with as much attitude as I could muster.

  Taking a small step backwards, he held his hands up in surrender, the smile never leaving his face. “I just thought I’d offer. Bryan said you might need some assistance getting into the house, and I wasn’t sure if you needed any getting out of the car too.”

  I breathed in and out in an effort to calm down. Chad had done nothing wrong and didn’t deserve my disdain. He wanted to help, and the only crime he committed was the hockey team he chose to support. Personally, I loved the LA Surf, and we tended to hate the Windstorms with a passion. Again, not his fault he possessed poor taste in team selection. “Sorry.”

  “It’s all good.” He moved to the side and leaned against the back of my car, giving me space to get out, however, when I made no move to roll up my window or exit, he asked, “You coming in, or do you need my help with anything? Not a lot of people here yet. Mel telephoned to say she and Luke are going to be late, but last time she said that, they never showed up.”

  He sounded as if he had all the time in the world and his ramblings began to put me at ease until he got to the part about Mel not showing. “Excuse me?”

  Realizing his mistake, he tried to correct himself. “Sorry. I’m sure they’ll come because you’re here. And if they don’t, we’ll tell Bryan and he’ll kick their asses. Or I can. Either way, they’ll get what’s coming to them.”

  I snorted and covered my mouth in an attempt to hold in my laughter.

  “Nah, you can’t cover that, I heard it. Come on. We’ll get you in the house and something cold in your hand to drink. You really don’t want to sit out here in the afternoon sun, do you?”

  Shaking my head, I rolled up the window, and shut off the engine. Time to meet my maker, or go to a party, whichever worked. “Thanks,” I muttered, shifting my legs to the street and pulling myself out. “Where are you from?” My curiosity got the better of me, and as I slowly made my way to the trunk where my walker lay on its side, I thought I’d ask.

 

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