Every Girl Does It(15)

“I could have been!” I yell after him as I follow him up the stairs.

He turns to look at me, not at all concerned.

“I’m scared of birds.” Admitting this requires the last shred of pride to die, so I follow him inside with my head hanging in shame.

“I’m sorry what?” He’s now walking toward me with an amused smirk on his face.

“I’m afraid of birds.” I say quieter this time not daring to look him in the eye.

“Birds,” he says plainly.

“Birds,” I confirm.

“All birds or just flying birds? If you were trapped at the zoo and an ostrich came running for you, would you scream? Or how about penguins, technically they’re birds.” He pauses for a minute waiting for my answer.

“You’re mocking me. I shouldn’t have said anything because everything is a giant joke to you.” I turn to walk away and trip over my own feet sending me sailing into the fake tree by the benches, knocking it over. “I meant to do that.” I huff as I stroll to my treadmill and begin running.

“It’s okay,” he says as he starts to run next to me. “I have things I’m afraid of, too.”

Slowing down, I turn so I can look at him. I ask, “Like what?”

“Hippos.” He shakes his head in disgust. “They terrify me.” He winks and continues running as I stand there with my mouth, yet again, hanging open for flies to stroll in to.

“They’re quite vicious, like polar bears,” I answer, getting my stride back. Is he trying to make me feel better? That’s surprising, and sweet. I feel myself start to smile.

“At least I’m afraid of something that actually makes sense,” he states before hitting the up button on his treadmill.

Forget what I said about him being sweet. He’ll never be sweet, just mean. And well, a terrible excuse for a human being.

“It makes sense if you know why!” I yell, trying to catch my breath from the sprint I am trying to overcome.

“Okay,” he says, pushing the red button on both our machines. “Humor me.”

The whole time running I didn’t break a sweat; but now, when he turns to face me with his body and green eyes, I start to perspire like I’m running the New York City marathon! Nervous, I shuffle my feet back and forth before preparing my story.

“When I was little—”

“Oh this should be good,” he interrupts.

“Hey! No interrupting. Do you want to hear the story or not?” I put my hands on my hips in frustration.

“Sorry.” He apologizes “Please continue.”

I do everything I can to not meet his eyes, considering they make me forget to breathe and all, and decide to concentrate on the seriousness of my story.

“When I was little.” I glare at him and continue “I went to the park with my parents and went to play on the swings. It was my favorite thing to do, but every time I walked near the swings, there would be hundreds of birds at the park just standing on the grass. My dad told me not to be afraid, so I believed him. One day I walked to my swings, carefully as to not scare the birds, and a dog came out of nowhere and started chasing them.” My hands started to sweat. “The birds were flying at me. I crashed to the ground and began crying. A few of the birds touched me. I even got scratched from one. It was so terrifying.” The experience was so scary that I’m now shaking as if I’m reliving the experience.

I look up to see Preston’s face, knowing he’ll probably say something sarcastic any time now, and see that he’s actually compassionate.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he puts his hand on my shoulder in a protective manner. “That sounds frightening, and I shouldn’t make fun of you.”

My heart starts fluttering as he leans over me and pulls me into a hug. I get ready to say thank you but am silenced by his talking.

“So this, um, incident, how old were you? Four or five years old, I’m guessing?” He pulls back from the hug looking touched.

“Fifteen,” I answer quietly before turning the treadmill back on.

His eyes widen in surprise before he starts doubling over in laughter.

“Fifteen? You were fifteen?”

“It was scary!” I yell in his direction.

“Why were you swinging at fifteen anyway? You should have been, I don’t know, out with your friends getting into trouble, not going with your daddy to the park.”

“It was tradition,” I snap. “Plus, my dad’s dead,” I add as I continue running, faster this time considering what I just said. I hadn’t talked about my dad in a long time, and it wasn’t Preston’s fault. Sometimes memories were better left unremembered. He had been gone a while, but the pain sometimes still felt too fresh.

“I’m sorry, Amanda, I didn’t know.” He stops my machine again and genuinely looks upset.

“It’s fine.” I smile trying to hold my tears in. “Actually, I think I’ve had too much excitement for the night. I’m going to head home.” I stop my machine and head down the stairs feeling Preston’s close proximity behind me.

“Amanda.” He pulls my arm from my side and holds onto my hand before I smile weakly and say goodbye.

It takes exactly three seconds for me to get from the door into my car.