Every Girl Does It(9)

Scooting over, while trying to keep my mouth shut, I give him ample space to sit down with room to spare. However, he doesn’t take the hint to sit far away, but instead sits rather close. Too close. So there he is smirking, like he has something to be smirking about. So I decide, in true middle school fashion, to write him a note.

What are you doing?

Um, listening to the sermon? And seriously, why are you passing notes in church, we aren’t ten anymore. Plus what makes you think I even want notes from you?

I hate you.

Doubtful.

You make me want to scream.

I’m sure I do.

Um, not in excitement, you moron.

Ouch, are you always this mean to the guys you like?

LIKE?!? Have you completely lost your mind? It’s taking every ounce of self-control I have to not stab you with my pencil.

Like you could make it through my muscle.

I wouldn’t know.

Sure you wouldn’t.

If you refer to your body one more time, I’m jumping up and screaming fire.

You wouldn’t.

Don’t tempt me.

I think I already am.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhh

Wow…a woman of many words.

You don’t want to know the words I’m thinking right now, Mr. Fireman. Why are you even sitting here?

I didn’t want to cause a scene by walking past you and having you trip me.

Oh, so you’re aware of how I feel about you?

Yes, uncomfortably aware.

What is that supposed to mean?

Has anyone ever told you that you hold a lot of rage for such a small person? What are you, five-two?

Five-three, and yes the extra inch does matter. I do not have rage, and if I’m angry toward someone, they obviously did something to frustrate me in the first place.

What? Breathe?

Close.

Whatever. You have issues. Stick with decaf, panda.

WHO TOLD YOU TO CALL ME PANDA?

Are you yelling with your pencil now?

WHO!

Kristin, of course.

…………

What, no response?

NO, I just have nothing good to say. Don’t call me that, ever. I would never tell her, but I don’t like being referred to as a panda. They’re fat and lazy.

You’re anything but that.

Gee thanks. I want my life back.

What?

You read me. I want my life back. My life before you started ruining it and being all Decemberish and swooping in punching things and running next to me and, you get the picture. I want it back. I’m taking it back. I’m ignoring you from now on!

Ok.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I thought you were ignoring me.

I break the pencil in half and put it into his warm and surprisingly large hands. This guy is big. Not only is his height impressive, but the size of his shoulders and hands dwarf me. It’s quite intimidating, and attractive. At present, I don’t appreciate feeling either emotion.

“Everyone stand for the benediction.”

I can feel the heat of his body and lean closer just in time to see him wink at me. So I look away as if I touched a hot oven and scowl. He must think he’s so great, that all girls fall at his feet. Well, I’m not one of them. Being a successful Visual Merchandiser at Macy's is great for my confidence level. Kristin is the HR director and ended up hiring me to style the clothes. I also do other stores on the side. I don’t need his approval or anyone else’s. Nice pep talk, I feel better already. Those are always the best.

Looking around, I notice, to Preston’s amusement, that I’m the only one left standing. The private pep talk had gone on too long. I sit down then yelp as the pencil I had broken earlier is pointed directly up onto my leg. The jerk! I’ve never thought of physically hurting a person more in my life than in the past twenty-four hours that I’ve known Preston. Correction, the new and improved Preston.

As if it wasn’t bad enough, now I have little youth group girls turning around and giggling in our direction. Please take him! True entertainment would be to see him fight off a whole bunch of hormonal sixteen year olds. Oh shoot, did I actually say something about the calendar to him? I hope I didn’t. I wouldn’t want him thinking...

Church ended and I must admit it was the longest service I can remember. Kristin had to get the boys and Brad then she would meet me at the little café in church for bible study.

Running past Preston without saying goodbye, I find a seat in the café. Decaf isn’t an option, so I get a double caramel Macchiato. Note writing, and all around immaturity, can be draining, plus the cinnamon rolls look good. Grabbing my latte and roll, I scan the room for a seat and spot Brad and Kristin.

“Hey!” they shout, a little loud for being so close.

I still have food in my mouth so I wave then open my mouth for the boys to see chewed food. They laugh. Then I hear another type of laughter. Man laughter, or let’s just call it maughter.

My nemesis. Is he stalking me? And why am I kind of flattered? Mutinous emotions, I press the disturbing thoughts from my mind and try to behave maturely for a change.

“Amanda, you’ve met Preston, right?” Brad pushes him forward, obviously not reading my body language of “hate” well enough to understand that yes, I did, indeed, know Preston.

Preston is the first to interrupt the awkward silence. “I actually knew Amanda in high school. Isn’t that right, Amanda?”