Page 18 of Body Checking
Me:You are stunning, Maren. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.
My heart thuds in my chest, and I try to pinpoint this feeling that I have when I think about her, but it’s unlike anything I’ve felt before. It’s lust or a craving or perhaps a need. Whatever it is, I know that she’s the cause and the cure.
MY PHONE dings and it’s yet another morning of waking up to that sound. While I was quite pissed two days ago, I don’t feel the same level of irritation today. It could be because I know it’s Cade texting me like yesterday before he left to the arena.
We spent hours texting each other the other night and surprisingly, kept it pretty tame after showing off our good bits to one another right off the bat. But it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable. We continued our game of two truths and one lie where I laughed more that night than I have in longer than I can remember.
It felt good to not feel the pressure of a face to face, awkward first date. No one is ever really genuine on those first meetings. You’re so worried about messing up or saying something stupid that you don’t relax and enjoy the moment. The real you doesn’t make an appearance weeks later when you’re so tired of pretending.
But the other night we were at ease, sharing stories, laughing and being ourselves. No first date act. No putting on a show to get the other to like you. It was the best time I’ve had with someone other than Sasha in years.
I pick up my phone and look at the text.
Hammer:Good morning beautiful. Five more days until I can take you on a proper date.
A smile that only he can elicit appears.
Me:Good morning. Does that mean that the texts will stop once you’re back?
Hammer:Not a chance. Expect texts and calls and in-person visits when I’m home.
I send a blushing emoji back to him then set my phone down and decide to get my day started. It’s work day and I have to pick up some supplies before my workers get to the Samuels house.
I’m showered and dressed lickety split with minimal prep since I’ll be running errands, and decide to stop at my favorite coffee shop and splurge on calories. I’ve been counting calories and watching what I eat, hoping to losea little bit of weight, but I’m not succeeding as much as I’d like.
Sasha tells me to quit worrying about that nonsense. She says I’m a hot, curvy woman and I should own it. Most days I do, but there are many times it’s just hard. Like right now when I walk into the coffee shop and see a rail thin woman with commercial worthy blonde hair, and her tight leggings and cropped sweatshirt, exposing her taut and toned abdomen.
I adjust my oversized Pink Floyd t-shirt that matches my baggy jeans and sneakers, and fix the floppy bun that sits on my head.
I push through people milling about and step up in line. I chew my lip and keep my head down, hoping I don’t see anyone I know since this is the place I love to meet clients at when we have updates on their projects.
When it’s my turn, I give the barista my not-so-complicated drink order and set my purse on the counter to retrieve my wallet. When I do, the darn thing tips over and spills on the floor. My face reddens from embarrassment and I crouch down to begin scooping the contents back in.
A man comes over to help me and when I hear his voice, I want to melt into the floor and slide right down the drain that sits behind the counter.
“Let me help you with that, miss.”
In slow motion, I raise my head and come face-to-face with the last person on Earth I’d want to see. Especially today.
“Oh. Maren,” he says, freezing in place with his hand on my lipstick tube.
“Hey Walker. Thanks for the help.” I snatch the lipstick from his hand and shove it into my purse with the rest of the items.
I stand on wobbly legs, not liking all the attention on me right now, and the barista hands me my change. I quickly shove it into the tip jar and move around Walker to go hide in a corner.
“How’ve you been?” he asks, prolonging my humiliation.
“Fine. Fine. It’s good,” I ramble.
He nods with a sullen smile. Just then, the woman I first noticed when I entered comes walking over.
“Babe. Is everything okay?” She sidles up to Walker and slips her hand in the crook of his elbow.
“Oh. Um yeah. Just helping an old friend.” My eyes furrow at his comment and my blood pressure begins to soar.
“Hi. I’m Carys. Nice to meet you,” she tells me, sticking out her hand to shake.
With a tight smile, I reciprocate. “Hi. Maren. An oldfriendof Walker’s. So. How long have you two been together? The last time I saw you, I don’t think you were dating anyone.”
