Page 15 of Body Check
“You drink your coffee plain, Dustin?” she asks, her sweet voice laced with a mix of pity and horror.
“Yep. I like my coffee pitch dark, just like my soul. And why did you call me Dustin?”
Running a manicured finger over my cardboard cup, she glances up at me, her eyes luminous under thick lashes. “That’s what it says here.Dustin.”
I shrug. “It’s close. I’m Dutton, and I promise I’m not quite as self-centered as my handle suggests.”
Her smile hits me right where my heart supposedly rests beneath my chest. “That’s good to know. I’m Bridgette, and we should probably get started since I’ve got to be at work soon.”
I open the doc she shared, and I’m once again stunned. The whole damn thing is color-coded. There are tabs, comments and digital sticky notes with annotations.
“I know,” she says, sounding a little embarrassed. “I tend to go a little overboard, I guess, but that’s just how my brain works. I need to take a lot of notes to fully process the information.
My cursor hovers over the section where she’s listed the required readings. “You hyperlinked these?”
“I think it’s easier than opening a million new files. It drives me crazy if I have more than three or four tabs open at any given time.”
“This is awesome,” I say sincerely. “You could probably sell these and make a shit-to of money.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s highly unethical,” she says, unable to hide her smile. “But I'm glad you find them useful. Is there anything that seems confusing? I struggled a bit with the slideson facilitated networks, so there are a ton of sticky notes for that section. I actually found a video that was helpful, too. I linked it.”
She might have a million digital sticky notes, but everything is so clear and organized that it all makes sense. There’s no way anyone reading this could have questions, but I’m not telling her that. “I can’t think of anything right now, but there’s a lot to go through. I really do appreciate your help.”
“It’s no problem,” she assures me. “I can give you my number if questions crop up while you’re reading through everything. Or, you could just use WolfChat. That’s probably easier. We didn’t have anything like that at beauty school, so I’m used to?—.”
“That’s a great idea,” I say, reaching my hand out. “Let me put my number in.” When she slides the phone over, I pick it up and punch in my digits. I’m tempted to put my name in as Future Husband or Boyfriend Material, at the very least, but I refrain. It’s probably best to let the crazy show in small increments rather than unleashing it all at once, so I type in Dutton James, adding my middle name out of habit. One of my exes was a jersey chaser, and since then, I’ve learned to be a little wary. I’m well aware that I don’t have the most sparkling personality, but when a woman agrees to go on a date with me, I don’t want her decision to be based on the uniform I’m wearing or that I went in the first round of the draft.
And, sure, you can bring up the fact that Bridgette thought my offer of a date was a joke. Or, that I’m the one who’s two seconds away from scribbling the wordsBridgette Wagnerin my damn notebook. Out of the two of us, I’m clearly the crazy one. The chances of Bridgette being a gold-digger or a jersey chaser are small, but it’s probably better to be safe than sorry.
She checks her phone for the time and starts packing up her bag, so I do the same. When we step out into the warm September sun, she points in the opposite direction of campus. Bridgette shoulders her big-ass tote bag and gives me a wave.“I’ve got to get to work, but it was nice meeting you, Dutton. Just give me a shout if you have any questions.”
“Thanks, seriously. This is even better than I could have hoped for, and I'm grateful. Let me take you out to say thank you.”
Immediately, I know I’ve said the wrong thing. An invisible shield goes up around her as she pastes on a fake smile. “That’s not necessary. I made the notes for myself anyway, so it was no trouble to share them with you.” Without another word, she turns toward the salon and away from me.
And yes, I watch her as she goes. She’s wearing one of those wraparound dresses that ties in the front, and the way her full hips sway from side to side as she walks has me mesmerized.
I’ve got to get back to campus for a team meeting, so make my way to the corner and hit the button at the crosswalk. The neon sign tells me I’ll have to wait fifteen seconds to cross, and that’s fine by me. There’s a lot I can accomplish in fifteen seconds.
Dutton:You said I could message you if I had a question, right?
Bridgette:Sure. What’s up?
Dutton: Where should we go on our date?
7
Bridgette
“Do you have time to grab lunch, or are you headed to the salon?” Liza asks as we leave our Psych class.
Reaching into my tote bag, I lift my lunch sack just high enough that she can see it. “I had a last-minute appointment added to my schedule, so it’s a packed lunch for me today. But I’m free after class on Friday. We could quiz each other for the test next week.”
Liza smiles brightly. “I will squeeze you into my busy social calendar.”
She’s teasing, but there’s an element of truth to it. Liza DeWalt has more jobs than anyone I know. In addition to being a full-time student, she’s a bartender at Wolfie’s, an equipment manager for the hockey team, and she’s their house manager, too. She works hard for every penny, and I don’t know how she does it all, especially since living and working with all those hockey players can’t be easy.
Despite the fact that my brother is constantly inviting me to the house or to hang out with him and his friends, I tend to keep to myself. But Liza took the seat next to mine on the first day of class, and we’ve been friendly ever since.
