by Ellie Hall
Footsteps approached, their sound muffled by the light powdery dirt covering the ground. I fought the intense urge to abandon my plan, to pretend I had never dreamed up such an absurd scheme.
I locked my knees. It would be fine. I was simply going to jog toward the fork in the trail, so carefree that when I accidentally tripped and crashed into my future boyfriend—I mean, him—it would appear completely unintentional.
As an honorable man, he was bound to stop and help an innocent woman in need. At least, I assumed he was honorable. He had the air of someone who was. Regardless, whatever romantic future that developed from there would be in the hands of fate.
The footsteps got closer.
For some reason, they sounded off, almost like a horse thudding along the dirt.
Thud-thud, thud-thud.
I peeked my head through the trees, pushing aside a branch and subsequently getting smacked in the back of the head with a pinecone. "I hate nature," I muttered under my breath, finally getting a clear view of a few feet of trail. A second later, a flash of black and purple flew past my spy hole. Purple?
There was a murmur of voices—yes, voic-es—followed by a high-pitch laugh. A feminine laugh.
Crap.
I watched as my gorgeous male target jogged by my hiding spot, a long-legged goddess in a purple tank top and shorts smaller than some of my bathing suit bottoms matching him stride for stride.
With a gasp, I stutter-stepped backward, right into a rotted log that sent me flying head over heels right into the dirt.
Great.
There went my future husband with some female model while I lay crumpled in a tangle of scraped elbows and knees. Talk about bad luck.
"Heavens, are you all right, miss?"
I looked up to see an elderly couple with matching sun hats and walking sticks hovering over me. They must've been on the trail behind me.
"Oh dear, it looks like you scratched yourself up," the woman said, unzipping a neon-orange fanny pack around her waist. "Good thing I always keep a first aid kit with me. We'll fix you right up."
At least I knew my tripping scheme worked. Pity I caught the wrong knights in shining armor.
Ten minutes, two antiseptic wipes, and five antibacterial Band-Aids later, the couple deemed me safe enough to be back on my own.
Tucking my head down, I shuffled my way toward the main trail again. Looked like my perfect Hallmark-style meet-cute with true love wasn't happening today.
I heard footsteps and voices coming up behind me and subconsciously stepped to the right.
It was fine. That guy was probably someone I wouldn't be interested in anyway. He likely spent all his free time playing video games and always left the cap off the toothpaste. He was the guy that forgot to put the toilet seat down and—
"Grandma invited everyone to the barbecue," a female voice said just as a woman in a purple tank top and a man in a remarkably fitted black T-shirt ran past me.
My head jerked up.
It was him. And had that woman just said...grandma?
"Why does Grandma..."
The deep male voice that answered definitely belonged to my meet-cute target. Why did it have to be such an attractive voice? It was one you knew would be in the bass section of the choir and most likely have a solo at some point because it was so dreamy.
Almost of their own accord, my feet stepped up my walk to a jog. Well, it was more bordering on a sprint for me, but to Mr. McDreamy and his girlfriend—the one who every fiber of my body prayed was actually a relative—it seemed like a jog.
I don't know what I planned on doing if I caught up to them. If my burning lungs were any indication, I wouldn't get within shouting distance. But I had to know who this girl was. Knowledge was power, right?
I chased them long enough for my calves to start aching and my thighs to put up a protest. Sure, I ran this trail every day, but my runs topped out at about a mile and a half, and my speed only got to this level if I was running downhill and gravity had taken over. I'd just decided this was karma's way of telling me to move on when they stopped and settled on a park bench lining the trail.
I brought my own run to an abrupt halt, and my legs definitely didn't scream out for relief or anything like that.
Now what? I mean, I could keep walking and pass them up, but then my cover would be blown. Maybe I could come around from the other side?
I was just considering backtracking when a certain male runner in a certain black shirt turned his head toward me.
I did the only thing a sane person could do in this situation.
I dove headlong into the trees.
The first thing that hit me was a mouthful of pine needles that now clogged my airways. The second thing was the realization I'd landed in a hedge of holly bushes—thorny holly bushes. What were the chances of finding my fanny-pack-wearing couple again?
It took me a minute to extricate myself from the bush, the whole time speculating on whether or not they'd seen me. Probably not. Likely not. I mean, I did have on a neon-pink tank top, which didn't camouflage ideally with all the greenery, but I'd been stealthy. Hadn't I?
I studied my legs, trying not to cringe at the endless lines of red going up and down them. What I did for true love. With an army crawl that would have made my fifth grade PE teacher proud, I made my way behind the trees to the backside of their bench. I stopped about five feet away, not sure how close I dared to get.
"The job I'm starting this week shouldn't take too long—a month, tops."
Why was his voice so hypnotizing? The low rumble sent goosebumps across my skin. Or maybe it was the lizard I just saw scurrying two feet away from me.
"That's good,” his female friend-slash-potential-blood-relative said. “Hopefully this place doesn't have quite so many... How did you describe them? Damsels in distress?"
"Technologically incompetent females? Computer illiterates? Women trying to find every reason in the book to get me to come fix their mouse again?"
I wasn't exactly following this conversation, but from the tone of his voice, this man had issues with females trying to get his attention. Not that I was surprised. I had a great view of his biceps just then, and they were enough to make any woman swoon. The thought made me a little uncomfortable, however. How would he have reacted if I'd followed through with my little tripping scheme?
The woman laughed. "Owen, the day women stop throwing themselves at you is the day Starbucks goes out of business."
Owen. The name matched him. I shifted my weight, trying to get a different view. How close were they sitting?
"Whatever. I just get the weird, clingy ones."
I straightened, which was hard to do considering my head was shoved between two baby pine trees and another thorny holly bush. I wasn't weird or clingy. And I wasn't throwing myself at him. I was simply assisting fate in creating a perfectly coincidental meeting between the two of us.
"Yeah, I remember the situation with that one girl. What was her name? Madison?”
“McKenzie.” His voice was low, almost dejected.
His companion took no notice as she continued on. “It's your fault, you know. If you wouldn't flirt and smile at them all the way you do..."
"What way?"
Yeah, in what way? I saw a flash of purple shift on the bench, and I was happy to note that they were sitting a friend's distance apart.
"That little half-smile you love to give women. It's totally an ‘I'm interested’ look. You flaunt that and your signature wink and any girl's a goner."
I swallowed, barely even feeling the thorns biting into my hands clenching the offending holly bush. I knew that smile. And that wink. Last Thursday, we had serendipitously—well, with a little help from me knowing his regular running schedule—crossed paths on this exact trail, and he'd smiled and given me a knee-melting wink. It was then that I started hatching my genius plan to trip in front of him. I thought there must have been something behind the gestures. Interest? Curiosity? Somethi
ng. Clearly, I was just one in a long string of women.
I chewed my lip, not sure if I was more disgusted with myself or him.
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Owen, who almost certainly knew what his potentially related female running partner was talking about. "That’s just being friendly. I can’t help it if some women take friendliness the wrong way."
He wasn't speaking about me. For heaven's sake, the man didn't even know me. But that didn't stop my internal conscience from feeling like he'd pointed his finger in my direction.
I pushed myself up, only then noticing the razor-sharp thorns that had been digging into my palms. Without thinking, I yelped out in pain, slamming my lips together the second the sound left my mouth. Had they heard me?
"Did you hear that?" the woman asked.
Through the trees, I could see splotches of purple moving. Oh no. Oh, no no. I flattened myself back to the ground and ignored every cringe-worthy thought about the creepy crawly things my face was smashed up against.
"It sounded like someone in trouble," my ex-future husband said.
Don't try to turn into the hero now, I thought silently, now that he’d just professed his absolute disgust with damsels in distress. Not that I was in distress. I just had a few more areas to practice my first aid skills on later today.
"I thought I saw something pink," the woman said.
"Really?" There were some shuffling noises, like they were pushing aside leaves.
Someone shoot me now. I squeezed my eyes shut and sent more pleas heavenward than I had in the last year combined.
A throat cleared loudly, and then my so-called knight in shining armor said, "I think it must've been an animal. Ready to head to the car?"
I said a silent prayer of thanks for all those years I spent as a wallflower in middle school. Apparently, my abilities to be invisible in plain sight were finally paying off.
I lay there, listening to their footsteps fade. Even after I could no longer hear them, I didn't move. I wasn't taking any more chances. When I was sure they'd had enough time to get at least a few hundred yards away—or more like a mile at the pace those two ran—I sat up.
All in all, the damage wasn't too bad: a few more ugly scrapes, a good amount of mulch in my hair, and a newfound resolve to never approach cute, single men exercising. As a whole, it was a worthwhile, life-learning experience.
At least that's what I thought until I saw the spider crawling down my arm. At that point, I screamed.
2
Owen
I stepped off the curb, giving the flow of other D.C. commuters plenty of space as I double-checked the address from Project Environment’s welcome email. Yep, this was the place. I eyed the high-rise that would be my office for the next month.
After a crowded elevator ride, I stepped inside Suite 502. There was a small welcome area with two lounge chairs tucked in the corner and a receptionist’s desk centered against a glass wall.
"Can I help you?" asked a high voice from behind the desk.
I stepped forward and gave the girl—she had to be fresh out of high school—a grin, not missing the way her hand twitched to comb back her hair. "Hi, my name is Owen Allen. I'm the freelance developer hired to fix the computer bug you guys have?"
"Oh, yes." She stood, knocking a pad of paper off her desk. "My gosh, I'm—" She scrambled on her hands and knees, standing a moment later with flushed cheeks. "Right this way, sir. They're waiting for you in the conference room."
I followed her ramrod straight back, trying not to chuckle. Maybe what my cousin, Angela, had been saying yesterday was true. Good thing I hadn’t given this girl a wink.
We reached a large, glassed-in conference room in the back, and the receptionist gave me a hesitant smile. "You can go right in. They're expecting you."
I nodded and did my best not to grin too broadly at her again. A slight tingle of nerves ran down my fingertips as I gripped the doorknob. There was something invariably nerve-racking about starting a new job, about meeting clients and assessing their expectations.
Pushing the thought aside, I opened the door, and a small group of expectant faces turned toward me.
I gave a slight nod. "Hi, I'm Owen Allen, the new web developer."
A man in a dark suit at the far end nodded and waved me in. "Owen, yes, come in." He stepped over and gave me a firm handshake. "So glad you're here. I’m Doug Bartman, CEO of this shindig." He turned to the man at his left. "This is Mike Hansen. He's the financial director. And this is Candice Smith. She's the..."
I spent the next two or three minutes smiling and shaking hands with everyone in the room. There was no chance I'd remember the blur of names, but I usually had minimal interaction with other coworkers anyway. Not too many people cared about the guy fixing their tech problems.
"And finally, we have Hazel Clark, our HR Manager."
I reached out for the last person's hand, my eyes automatically grazing her features as they did with everyone else, when I came up short.
It was her.
The runner.
I gripped her hand maybe a touch too tightly as I tried to gain my bearings.
I'd seen this woman several times, running along the river during my morning jogs. She was definitely attractive. Her hazel eyes were ones you couldn’t forget, and she had the type of curves that made you want to snuggle up on a Friday night in front of a movie you knew you would completely ignore. Yeah, I'd seen her before.
However, yesterday had been different.
Yesterday, I'd noticed her signature long ponytail as she’d walked in front of Angela and me on the trail. Her dark hair had to go all the way down her back when it wasn't tied up. And that bright-pink tank top—the one that fit just a little too well across her body—had definitely been the one laying in the dirt behind our park bench.
She’d given me a moment of shock when I thought she might have been McKenzie, the woman Angela and I had just been discussing. The relief at realizing she was a stranger—a rather odd stranger, apparently—had been enough to propel me out of there without confronting her.
Looked like fate was taking that confrontation in its own hands.
I shook my head, trying to bring myself back to the present. "Uh, yes, Hazel was it?" For the first time, I took in her reaction to me.
She looked like she'd seen a ghost.
All the color had drained from her skin, and her eyes were about as big as those oversize donuts they serve in the coffee shop right below my apartment. She still hadn't said anything. She just continued to pump my hand up and down like she was playing the slots in Vegas.
"Um, Hazel? Are you okay?" Doug asked, his eyebrows knit together as he studied his HR manager.
"What? Er, yes!" She dropped my hand and stepped back. "So nice to meet you, O-Owen." She placed her hands on the back of one of those rolling chairs, moving it between us like a shield.
Did she think I was going to bite?
"Yes. Well, now that everyone's been introduced," Doug said, giving Hazel an eyebrow raise, "let's get started." He motioned for us to sit.
Deciding to ignore the very curious Hazel for the time being, I sat in the vacant seat in front of me.
"As you can see in the materials provided, we have a big, if somewhat tight, project deadline we need to wrap up this month."
I picked up the preassembled booklet as Doug described the campaign Project Environment was working on. I tried to pay attention to his words, but a certain woman sitting across from me was quite distracting.
"...this tool will allow us to monitor the land usage in critical habitats," Doug said, ending his ten-minute monologue with an emphatic arm flourish directed toward me.
I flipped through the packet, trying to look for key buzzwords that I could pull out. "This project sounds amazing, Doug. There will be so many new, er...conservation policies and restoration actions taken because of the work you're doing here."
He beamed, but I didn't miss the suspicious look
Hazel shot my way. Better not attempt too much subterfuge. She looked like the type that missed nothing. "So, I'd love to get down to details about what you need from me. I understand there's a bug in your new website? Can you tell me what we're working with?"
Doug seemed deflated that I didn't want to continue discussing the charity's worldwide impact. "Yes. Actually, Paul here is in charge of all our computer stuff—"
"The IT department," said a balding man in the corner who looked like he was bored out of his mind. That must've been Paul.
"Yes, he's the man you need to speak with."
Not wanting to waste another minute of anyone’s time, I stood. "Thank you so much for the warm welcome. I can tell Project Environment is doing important work, and I can't wait to be a part of the team."
Paul must've gotten my hint, because he stood as well. "Let's go talk in my office," he said, his dry tone directed at me. Without sparing another glance at his coworkers, he made his way out of the conference room.
Assuming I was to follow, I tucked my new notebook under one arm and gave everybody a smile. "Pleasure to meet you all," I said, my eyes smoothly glancing over everyone until they made contact with the person I couldn’t seem to ignore.
Her eyes flitted to mine and then back down again in rapid succession, the hint of a blush spreading across her face.
Oh, no. I swore I wasn't going to do this again. I wasn't going to get myself caught up with another clingy female who believed in love at first sight. I swallowed, purposely letting the smile drop from my face.
I must’ve hit the nail on the head, because her eyes slacked, and her lips reversed themselves into a frown.
Spinning on my heel, I headed out the door after Paul. There would be no distracting Friday movie nights going on this month.