Page 19 of Class Act

I practiced some deep breathing exercises while I scrubbed at the spill on my shirt and skirt. I knew that the stains most likely wouldn’t come out, but I had long ago stopped leaving clothes at my parents’ house so my only hope was to at least get the chunks wiped off. I also reminded myself of a few key things, which I whispered aloud:

“ One: I am thirty years old. I am not thirteen. I should react appropriately. Two: I am a school teacher. I have seen some stuff, and I have handled it. Melting down is below my skill level. Three: I am a strong, independent, and loved daughter and friend. I do not need to prove myself. Four: Just because my meddling honorary uncle is trying to set me up, doesn’t mean . . .”

“Well,” Ford’s face popped into the mirror behind me, and I squealed, dropping the napkin and gripping the sink edges. I saw him smirk. “Sorry.”

“Did you need the bathroom?” I asked.

“No,” he replied, leaning back against the door jamb. “They’ve sent me here to check on you.”

All the deep breathing and list making flew out the window. “That’s incredibly humiliating,” I said under my breath as I reached back into the sink for the wet rag and started scrubbing again.

“I’m sure they’ll be relieved to hear that you’re taking the time to list out important facts. That always helps me to calm down.”

Oh geez, he’d heard. Double blush coming on. “I don’t need calming.”

“Sure.” He moved from the door jamb, stepping closer to my side, and I caught a of whiff of the same laundry detergent I used, mixed with the spicy scent I’d noticed at the gym. It was really, really nice. Not that I cared about that. “You’re going to work a hole into that shirt,” he stated.

“It’s already ruined,” I replied, loosening my grip on the rag. I forced a deep breath in through my nose and let it out slowly as I closed my eyes and formed my mouth into an O shape. “You can report back to that gray-haired bunch of ne’re-do-wells that I am fine and will return shortly.”

“You know, Hillary used to tell me last year that the thing she liked most about you was how you never got mad.”

My face immediately set on fire as a blush raced up from my chest to spread over my cheeks and forehead. I wasn’t sure what to say. Men usually didn’t bait me like he did. They didn’t push up against my natural reserve. I had no idea what to do with this.

Grasping uselessly for any sense of strength and pride I could muster I said, “It’s true, I’m usually very calm.”

He nodded sagely. “I can tell.”

I bit my lips and sucked another breath in through my nose, fiercely enough to make a really unattractive sound. I took a step back so that I was pressed against the wall as far from him as I could get and held up my hands, palms out. “Okay, so I’m having a hard time processing all these developments.”

“What sort of developments? I thought we were just having dinner.”

I scoffed, a sound so rare that it actually hurt my throat. “Don’t insult me by pretending you don’t know.” His eyebrows raised, and his shoulders shifted. “You asked about my bath.” I had to push the words out.

His face loosened into a smile. “I was trying to get you breathing again. You saw me and totally froze up.”

“I’m not in the habit of discussing my bathing habits with strangers, much less announcing it to my parents.”

He stepped closer, looking down into my eyes in that intense way of his. “It embarrassed you.” The words were a whisper, and I nodded sharply. His gaze was keen, as though the thought of me being embarrassed fascinated him. “I didn’t realize.”

I looked down at our feet, closer together than they had any business being. “You and I, well, the moment we met you made it clear that you weren’t interested in getting to know me. So why are you here? It can’t be to meet my parents. They have nothing to do with your line of work. And it can’t be to see me. So why?”

“Leonard invited me to dinner, and not many people would pass up the offer of a dinner like your mom makes.”

“How would you have any idea what kind of dinner my mom makes?”

“Leonard sang her praises. And a home-cooked meal that I didn’t have to make sounded really nice. I like Leonard and Connie, and I enjoy meeting new people.”

I dared to meet his eyes again and crossed my arms in a show of strength, but it was really because my hands were trembling so hard. This was the first argument I’d had in . . . well . . . forever I suppose. I had enough confidence to stand my ground, but it was terrifying to do it outside of my head rather than imagining I had after the fact.

“As simple as that, huh?”

He crossed his too. “Yes. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why are you so upset about it?”

“Leonard told my parents last week that I’d met someone . . .”

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