Ninja At First Sight

by Penny Reid

  “I didn’t know you were planning to visit,” I said, hoping I sounded benignly interested rather than irritated.

  “Yes, if we’d known, we would have ordered the sky to cease snowing.” My eyes cut to Greg and I found him giving my mother a smile I’d never seen from him before. It was not a pleasant smile.

  To my surprise, she chuckled, “I bet.” She gave Greg an amused head shake and sighed. “Well, as soon as the new car arrives, I’m leaving. Your father has a conference in Chicago, that’s the only reason I’m here. I waited two hours for you, Fiona. And now our opportunity to spend time together is gone.”

  I was spared having to respond because her cell phone rang; she answered it and held a finger up in the air, silencing me.

  “What’s that?” she yelled at the phone. “Oh… you’re outside?”

  My mother turned away from both of us, continuing her loud conversation in my room. Greg reached forward and pulled the door shut, immediately turning to me with a grimace.

  “She’s horrible,” he whispered accusingly. “I thought you said your childhood was fine? That woman isn’t fine. She’s Satan.”

  I heard Fern half snort from behind me as I gave him a wane look. “Can we not discuss this now?”

  “If not now, when?!” he demanded dramatically, clearly joking.

  I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t laugh. If she came out here and saw me laughing she would assume the worst (she’d be correct) and I’d be on the receiving end of her temper tantrum.

  I turned away from Greg—because the longer we stared at each other, the more likely I was going to burst out laughing—and covered my mouth with my hand. I didn’t even have a minute to pull myself together before she reappeared.

  “Take me downstairs, Fiona. The new rental car is here.”

  I nodded dutifully, unwilling to meet Greg’s eyes for fear he’d have me in a fit of giggles.

  “Your rental car? What about the tow truck?” he asked, walking ahead of us and holding the door.

  “Not here yet. I gave him Fiona’s number, he’ll call when he arrives and she can meet him to get the other car. Here are the keys.” She held them out to me, I accepted them, glancing at Greg as we walked by.

  He was scowling. Actually, he was scowling with intensity. His eyes shot sparks of irritation and fury at my mother’s back. I watched with horror as he set his jaw, drawing himself up to his full height, his eyes half-lidded with brazen contempt. I knew him well enough to recognize he was about to throw down a gauntlet, or toss out a stinging insult, or both.

  I caught his eyes, mine widened to their maximum diameter. I vehemently shook my head, mouthing no, no, no!

  He opened his mouth, saying nothing, but giving me a pleading look.

  Please, the look said. Please let me set down your mother. Please let me harass her and make her cry. Please allow me to make her feel terrible about herself.

  I shook my head slowly, giving him a mournful smile.

  He looked like he was ready to explode.

  My smile grew less mournful.

  “Fiona?”

  I hadn’t been paying attention to my mother, so I didn’t realize she’d stopped walking and was glancing between me and Greg.

  “Coming, mother.”

  “It was fascinating to meet you, Mrs. Shepard,” Greg called after us.

  “You too, Gregory. Thank you for your thoughts on that troublesome property issue.”

  Greg hesitated, biting his lip—which meant he was trying to hold his tongue—but in the end he blurted, just before we walked into the elevator, “Thank you for Fiona. Your troublesome property issue notwithstanding, I’m glad she didn’t die.”

  I glanced at my mother; she was watching Greg like he was strange. Eventually, she nodded faintly, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for the lobby. I followed her, breathing a silent sigh of relief when the doors closed. We stood in silence as the car descended, and I began to hope no additional conversation would be forthcoming.

  But just as the doors opened, my mother said, “You should hold on to that one. Don’t let him get away.”

  I stiffened, frowning, uncertain if she’d spoken or if I’d imagined the words.

  “Earth to Fiona, did you hear what I said?”

  I quickly nodded, following her out of the lift. “Yes. I did.”

  “He’s worth securing,” she tossed over her shoulder. “You’re lucky you met him before someone else snatched him up.”

  Part 7: What do you get when you cross a ninja?

  I never did discover what Greg had planned as a surprise for our first date.

  After my mother left, I went back upstairs and waited for the tow truck driver. Just as the man called, Greg showed up in my suite, looking scrumptious in pajamas and boots. He told me to hand over the rental car key. I changed while Greg went downstairs to deal with the man.

  Greg didn’t come back to my room. I waited for an hour and a half and was just about to walk to his room when he called me on the phone.

  “Sorry I didn’t come back up straightaway. I stopped by the boxes to check my mail.” He sounded distracted.

  “No problem. Do you want me to head over to your room?”

  “No, don’t do that. Sasquatch is here with a bird and, uh…” He hesitated and cleared his throat before continuing, “This week will be completely mad. I’m going to call it a night.”

  “Okay. For the record, I had a great time on our date.”

  “Even though I abscond with your food?”

  “Yes. Even though you’re a dirty food absconder.” I paused, then added, “Sorry about my mother.”

  I heard him chuckle. “We shall discuss her Royal Horribleness at length tomorrow. I’m miffed you didn’t tell me the truth about her. Is your father an ogre too?”

  “No.” I glanced at the clock, saw it was past midnight, and all of the sudden I was tremendously tired.

  “Would you tell me if he were an ogre?”

  “Probably not.” I yawned and turned down my covers.

  Greg was silent for a beat; I could tell he was thinking, considering his words. At length, he asked, “Seriously, why did you say your childhood was fine?”

  I was glad he wasn’t here, in my room, for this conversation. “Because it was fine. Like I said, I had a roof over my head, food, safety-”

  “Yes, but a child requires more than the minimum, Fe. You deserved more than merely shelter, food, and safety. You deserve more than that now.”

  Inexplicably, my bottom lip trembled, so I bit it and closed my eyes.

  “Fiona? Are you there?”

  When I was quite certain I could keep the tears from my voice, I said. “Yes. I’m here. I’m just tired. How about we discuss her Royal Terribleness-”

  “You mean her Royal Horribleness.”

  “Yes. Her Royal Horribleness, we’ll discuss her tomorrow.”

  He hesitated again, but in the end he agreed.

  However, I didn’t see Greg the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that. It was the week of finals and I reasoned, as a junior, his schedule was likely crazy. Whenever I’d stop by his room he was gone—at the gym, library, computer lab. And several times I’d returned from class to learn he’d stopped by while I was out.

  He left me short notes on my bed, just a few words scrawled on a post-it note,

  Are you hiding from me? –Greg

  I’ll be at the computer lab in engineering all day, come find me if you have time. –Greg

  Have you once again succumbed to the call of the hermit lifestyle? –Greg

  I miss you. –Greg

  I missed him, too. I missed our debates. I missed kissing him and touching him. I missed the cuddling. In truth, I pined for him and was verging on pathetic by day three.

  And yet, the absence from each other was a good reminder I needed more people in my life.

  Therefore, on day four, I looked up the martial arts club on campus and fill
ed out the paperwork to join. On my way out of the student union I spied a flyer for a knitting group meet up over the summer; I grabbed one of the tear off numbers and resolved to go.

  Perhaps invigorated by the idea of the knitting group and kung fu, I asked a girl in my differential equations class if she wanted to grab coffee after the final to celebrate. She agreed. So we grabbed coffee and she told me about her childhood, how she’d been raised in New Mexico but moved to Iowa when she was fifteen.

  When the time came for us to part, we made plans to go out again when summer classes started in three weeks. She mentioned the possibility of a movie and I readily agreed.

  I missed Greg. We’d spent nearly every day together since Valentine’s Day; the time without him had been a shock to my system, but also a much-needed wakeup call. I needed friendships beyond Greg. Life happened, he was busy, and placing him firmly in the center of my universe was unfair to us both.

  However, on day five, I came home to find three rocks on my desk and a card with a penguin on the front. Seeing it was from Greg, I did a little happy dance as I bounced into my room, reading his inscription.

  Dearest Fiona,

  I’m missing you dreadfully. It’s been an age, I don’t think you’ll recognize me when next we meet. I’ve put on ten stone and lost all my hair. And an eye. I hope you fancy a fat bald man with an eye patch.

  Come out with me on Friday. Finals will finally be over and it’ll be time to celebrate. I’ll pick you up at four. We’ll do a first date do-over, eat at Manganiello’s again, plus a new, improved surprise.

  Also, FYI: Gentoo penguins mate for life. Whereas Adélie penguins prostitute themselves for rocks.

  I’d like to be your Gentoo penguin.

  -Greg

  P.S. Unless you’re open to a rock arrangement. If so, please find my first down payment enclosed.

  ***

  I bought a new dress.

  In a fit of restlessness, Fern and I decided to go shopping. It was her last week at the University. She’d decided to drop out after exams were over, move to Clearwater, Florida, and pursue her career as a Scientologist minister. I did my best not to dwell on her impending departure.

  So we went to the mall.

  The dress was black, and the flared skirt was much shorter than any I’d worn before. But the weather had turned almost nice, and Fern was adamant that the quality of my legs required showing off. I didn’t disagree, as I’d often considered my legs to be my best physical attribute.

  Fern informed me that she considered my eyes to be my best physical attribute. “They’re soulful and sad, intelligent and welcoming. They make me want to give you a hug, and anticipate the hug I’ll receive in return.”

  This earned her a delighted smile.

  But then she quickly smacked my bottom and added, “And your ass is your second best physical attribute. Work it, girl!”

  “You are a goofball.” I twisted away from her slap-happy hand and claimed a seat in the food court.

  “What? Doesn’t Greg ever compliment your bottom?” She took the chair across from mine.

  I didn’t answer, instead opting to roll my eyes. She wasn’t deterred by my non-answer.

  “He doesn’t?” She sounded shocked. “What about when you two are having sex? Or is he not a talker?”

  I held very still, hoping… hoping something, like the ground would open up or a dinosaur on a spaceship would magically appear. Unsurprisingly, the dinosaur let me down.

  Disappointing dinosaur is… disappointing.

  Eventually, I met Fern’s eyes. She was staring at me with plain disbelief. “You two haven’t…?”

  I shook my head.

  “But you’ve had oral sex?”

  I shook my head.

  “But he’s used his fingers?"

  I shook my head.

  “Good God, what are you two waiting for?”

  I laughed, my face falling into hands. “I don’t know!” I wailed.

  But I kinda did know, or at least I suspected… “I think he’s trying to take things slow. We do a lot of… kissing.”

  “Necking. Making out.”

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  “He’s worried about scaring you off? You think?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe.” Then I nodded. “Probably.”

  “Would he? Scare you off, I mean.”

  “At this point, no. I mean, I trust him. And I… I’ve never been in love before.”

  Fern rested her chin in her hands, giving me a dreamy smile. “First love…” then she sat up straight and snapped at me. “I know! You should suck on his finger!”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Suck on his finger. The middle one. If that doesn’t work, try rubbing your bottom against his groin. And don’t be subtle about it either. There’s no way he hasn’t had fantasies about your ass. Hell, I’ve had fantasies about your ass.”

  Fern cackled at her own joke and I reluctantly joined in. This conversation was both mortifying and liberating, and I wondered how I was going to make it through the next year without her.

  ***

  Upon seeing me in my new dress, Greg’s gaze lingered on my legs. It was hard to miss the appreciative gleam in his eyes. I took this as a sign of success.

  But then he asked, “So… are you going to put on some pants?”

  I glanced at my legs, then back at him. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m assuming that’s a shirt with a belt and, my poor darling, you’ve forgotten your pants.” He ruined the effect by laughing at his own joke. He was a teasing teaser. I’d missed his teasing.

  We’d been separated for the last week, and yet it felt like no time had passed. Everything was just as easy and comfortable as it had been before. Though we were perhaps a tad anxious to learn what the other had been up to over the last seven days.

  Manganiello’s was once again excellent. And this time I’d allowed Greg to pay for the meal without objection. He’d done so with flourish, leveling me with a self-satisfied smirk when he handed over his credit card. I didn’t care. I was just happy to see him smile. After a week without his company, my heart felt generous where he was concerned. Generous and greedy.

  At present, I was gazing out the window, not really absorbing any true details of the passing scenery or the song playing over the stereo, thinking instead on my earlier conversation with Fern. Specifically, I was thinking about the logistics of sucking on Greg’s middle finger. Should I do it now? Or should I wait until we were back at the dorms? And what could I expect as a result? Was sucking on a man’s finger the universal green light for sexy times?

  Because I was gazing out the window, I noticed a green highway sign telling me we were an hour from Chicago.

  It took me several seconds to process what I’d read. When I did, I started, stiffening, and slid my eyes to the side. If Greg knew we were driving in the wrong direction, he made no outward sign.

  I shifted in my seat. “I think we’re going the wrong way.”

  “No,” he said simply, not looking at me.

  “That sign back there said we’re going east.”

  “That’s right.”

  I studied his profile, waited for him to comprehend that east was the opposite direction from the University. Again, he made no outward sign.

  “Greg, that sign was for Chicago.”

  “I know,” he said evenly.

  I opened my mouth, closed it, feeling like I was missing something. We were quiet for several minutes while I tried to figure out what was going on.

  When I couldn’t, I asked, “What’s going on?”

  He paused, like his instinct was to respond one way, and he was trying to subdue this instinct. “We’re not going back to the dorms tonight.”

  Every muscle in my body tensed, my ability to breathe hijacked by the implications of this statement. In truth, I was blindsided.

  I wasn’t opposed to the implications. Obviously I wasn’t since, just moments ago, I’d been sitti
ng here, plotting how and when to suck his finger into my mouth. But I was surprised.

  I moved so that my back was against the door and I was facing him, attempting to sound casual. “Oh.”

  His gaze flickered to mine. He grinned, it was quickly suppressed. “Fern packed you a bag.”

  “Fern packed me a bag,” I parroted, nodding. “Well, that was nice of her.”

  “She’s very helpful.”

  “Yes. Helpful.” I was glad that the interior of his truck was dark because I was most assuredly scarlet from the top of my head to my toes.

  Greg was biting his bottom lip; I could tell he was trying not to smile. He also appeared to be battling with himself. I could almost see a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other.

  We drove in silence for several long minutes, my mind racing. I clasped and unclasped my hands in my lap, twisting my fingers, my heart jumping around wildly. I was excited. I was also nervous.

  But—surprisingly—I wasn’t worried and I wasn’t irritated he hadn’t discussed this step with me ahead of time. Maybe I should have been, but I wasn’t.

  “You’re very quiet.” His tone was desert dry, which was how I knew he was trying to keep the smile out of it.

  “So are you.” I was pleased with how even, unaffected I sounded.

  “I was just thinking, I wonder what Fern packed for you. I can’t wait to see.”

  A new bloom of warmth spread from my chest to my fingertips. This was possibly the most sexually flirtatious he’d been with me in over a month, and it was about damn time. It occurred to me that perhaps he’d been suppressing the witty sexual innuendos since early March because he thought they made me uncomfortable.

  I decided to test this theory… by trying to make him uncomfortable. I may have been an awkward seductress, but I was determined to be a seductress nevertheless.

  I crossed my legs and shrugged, picking a piece of lint from my black dress. “Hopefully nothing.”

  I sensed him stiffen, watched his eyebrows pull low as though he were confused. “Pardon me?”