Page 9 of Under My Skin

“Alright, girls, let’s get inside and cleaned up. Who’s hungry?” I ask while snatching Addy up into my arms.

“Me, me, me!” the girls rambunctiously shout.

And with that, I head inside with my two favorite girls and hope my dad was right all those years ago—that I’ll find my happiness here.

* * *

Later that night,after I’ve wrangled the girls into bed and the house is quiet, I can’t stop my mind from wandering to my off-limits next-door neighbor. I mean, the girls didn’t make it easy…All throughout dinner it wasMiss Lizziethis andMiss Lizziethat, so I can’t take the blame for all of it.

I look out my bedroom windows toward her barn apartment. I wonder if she’s okay after her fall. I wonder if she’s still up. If she is, I wonder what she’s doing.

I’m wondering too much for someone who can’t and won’t get involved with a woman right now. I chastise myself and try to think about my to-do list instead. It’s never-ending and should definitely distract me from naughty thoughts of Lizzie.

Except it doesn’t.

5

LIZZIE

I wakeup the next morning feeling exhausted. My fall yesterday has left me feeling super sore, and I’m sporting the biggest bruise. It’s all over my left thigh and hip and covers half my butt cheek.

The soreness wasn’t the only thing keeping me up, though.

I spent my night tossing and turning, trying to make sense of my interaction with Cameron yesterday. What he said. The way he said it. The way he looked at me.

Definite perk of moving back home.

What I learned from all my hours lying awake was that there’s no use in wondering about it. I mean, what if I’m not even remembering it correctly and I’m adding words to the conversation that weren’t actually said?

I need a second opinion, but I’m debating even talking to Lia about this because it sounds so ridiculous. But, since we tell each other everything, I know I won’t be able to keep this from her. I’m pretty sure she’d drag it out of me somehow anyway.

Me: Hey! You free?

Me: Wanna go for coffee before my class?

I need to head over to my studio in town and prepare for my afternoon pottery class, but without some caffeine in my system, I know I’ll be dead on my feet before the afternoon even hits. I’m feeling sluggish, and that will not cut it for the twenty kids expecting me to be bursting with energy and excitement and ready to teach them how to make ceramic bowls today.

Lia: Of course!

Lia: Francine’s at 10?

Me: See you soon!

I jump in the shower and throw on a pair of worn overalls with a tank top underneath and then slide on my Converse, letting my wet hair fall down my back to air dry. When battling kids with clay, utility over fashion is key. After applying some mascara, lip gloss, and concealer under my eyes, I’m good to go.

As I start my Jeep, I spot my parents sitting on their porch drinking coffee, partaking in their usual morning routine.

They wake up every morning before the crack of dawn and get most of the farm chores done so they can take a nice, leisurely hour-long break around nine just to enjoy each other’s company. I’ve heard them say it’s important to slow down and appreciate each other in the mundane moments so many times. I think it’s so cute, and to me, they are the epitome of true love and an inspiration of what I hope to find for myself someday.

I roll down my window and shout, “Good morning!” interrupting their relaxing coffee break with the sound of my tires on the dirt road in front of their house. Not that they’ll ever see it as an interruption—my parents are the best.

“Good morning, sweetie. Good luck with your class this afternoon,” my mom shouts from her rocking chair and smiles brightly while my dad waves.

“Thanks, Mom. It should be fun. The kids really enjoyed last week’s class, so I think they’ll like tonight’s too. We’re going to attempt to make bowls this time.”

“Oh, Lizzie, you’re so good with kids. These classes are probably the highlight of their summer.”

My mom looks at me with a proud glint in her eyes, and it reminds me of my conversation with Cameron yesterday. I really am lucky to have parents who are truly proud of me. That thought alone makes it impossible to keep my next words to myself, even if I have to shout them over the noise of the engine. “I love you, Mom and Dad. Thanks for always believing in me and supporting my dreams.”

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