CHAPTER TWELVE
M y brakes screech when I come to a stop at the gas station. I sit back and watch the attendant fill the car in front of me as a young guy washes my back window.
I wouldn’t say I’m overly high maintenance, but I found this little gas station close to home that is full-serve, and I haven’t gotten out to pump my gas since. Okay, so a little close to home is a slight exaggeration. Let’s just say it’s worth the drive. I no longer have to freeze my hands in the middle of winter, standing in -15 degrees and blowing snow.
I roll down my window.
“Hi, can I get forty, regular, please?” I ask the attendant.
He nods and doesn’t respond.
I can see him in my side mirror, watching me more than the pump.
I look down, playing with the little beads on my key chain to avoid his gaze in the mirror.
When the gas is done filling up, he walks up to my window. “Debit?” The guy is wearing a bright yellow safety vest, a goatee, and a smirk.
I drop the key chain I was playing with into my cup holder and reach for my purse in the passenger seat.
“You look familiar,” he says.
I turn to him as I take out my wallet.
“I’ve been coming here a few months now,” I say, unsure how else I would appear familiar to him. I take out my debit card as he hands me the machine to tap.
The line between his eyebrows crease. “No, that’s not it.”
I glance up at him, wishing I could roll up my window without appearing rude. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I know you.”
He extends the receipt. “Wait a sec, it will come to me.”
I put my wallet away, mentally willing him to move on to the next car. I sigh. I feel bad. I should be attempting to converse with this guy. Isn’t this whole online dating thing supposed to be teaching me to be more open or something?
I laugh awkwardly.
He raises his hand to his chin as if deep in thought as he leans into his right hip. It’s really bugging him. I see him glance at the mountain of Tbr on my passenger seat and then back to me with a look of recollection in his eyes.
“Booklover or something like that, right!?” he asks a little too enthusiastically for my current anxious state.
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ve seen you on the App,” he says, leaning one arm on the top of my car, allowing him to peer closer to me in an attempt to be flirtatious. I assume it’s to be flirtatious.
“Whoa,” I whisper to myself. I can feel my cheeks starting to blush in embarrassment. Here it comes, the sweat pooling under my arms. Geez, why do I sweat so much? I can’t believe someone on the street is recognizing me from the App. I’m not one for attention from random strangers.
I notice his smile as he looks down at me. He doesn’t look familiar to me at all.
I see him pulling out his phone and swiping. I watch him silently.
Isn’t it illegal to use your phone at the gas station? I pick up my crucial chain again and let the beads fall through my fingers in an attempt to self-soothe.
He turns his phone to face me. I see a picture of a group of guys. I remember looking at the photo and swiping because I didn’t know which guy I’d be dating.
I don’t know how to respond. I see a few cars lining up behind me, waiting their turn.
I start my car.
“Hey, yeah. I think I remember seeing that picture now.”
He is grinning from ear to ear. “So, what do you say, wanna go out sometime?”
I shield my eyes from the sun, stalling. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll message you online,” I say, putting the car into drive.
“Sounds good.” He straightens and smiles widely, showing a few more wrinkles on his forehead. “Talk soon, Booklover!”
I drive off. He waves as I’m pulling away, his brightly colored vest blinding me in my rearview mirror.
I feel bad.
I have no intention of finding him online.
* * *
I’m pulling in as Ben is getting out of his car.
He sees me drive in and leans back against his car. He’s wearing beige khakis and an olive green shirt with his sleeves pushed up, showing his tanned forearms. His legs are crossed at his ankles, and I have to will myself to look away.
“Mornin’.” He straightens and nods towards me the way guys do.
I tried this once, but I’m not sure the female population can pull that move off, or maybe it’s just me, and I don’t have the swagger.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing my stuff and heading to the back door, Ben following close behind.
Ben grabs my hand from behind, and I stop abruptly, turning towards him. I look up and notice a sparkle in his eyes, though a serious expression has taken over his face. His hair is slightly tousled.
I gulp. I feel my stomach go into overdrive. The butterflies are being set free. His hand is still holding onto mine.
I blink a few times, meeting his gaze, waiting for the words to come out of him.
I’ve never had these feelings with Ben before. I don’t know if I quite understand where they’re coming from, but they have been slowly creeping up. I’ve only been in a relationship the entire time I’ve known him, so it’s not like he was ever an option. But I don’t think he ever thought of me that way. I thought we were friends but how was I so oblivious to his feelings?
I feel responsible for the serious energy radiating off of him. I think I’m starting to care a bit more about Ben than I initially did. Maybe I haven’t been such a good friend to him afterall.
I adjust my bag, which is slowly falling off my shoulder.
“What’s up, Ben?” I ask, trying to move along the conversation before the butterflies take control over my entire body, and I’m no longer able to act human.
I’m highly aware that he still hasn’t let go of my hand, but I don’t pull away either.
“Wanna get some supper tonight after work?” he asks. “Kind of congratulations on this new writing gig with Lace )
I smile. The attention feels good. I mean he does actually write full sentences and knows the differences between their , there, and they’re . He isn’t half-assing his responses like a lot of the guys who have messaged me.
Booklover (Sofia): I have, actually. I would love to meet up and try a class tomorrow night. What time does it start?
I can’t believe I am going to be dancing with a stranger. Like, I know how to back it up, tootsie roll even, but Salsa - Yikes! I’m a little overwhelmed at the thought of dancing with someone who sounds so professional. I’ve seen Dancing with the Stars , and without a doubt, I may very well get vertigo from all the spinning.
FollowMyLead (Blake): That’s great! The class begins at 8:00 p.m. It’s at a local bar downtown.
Booklover (Sofia): Okay, that sounds great.
I shudder. That sounds terrifying, but I decided not to let on.
Booklover (Sofia): I’ll meet you there :)
Blake sends me the address, and we continue talking for a few more minutes. He tells me he works a desk job throughout the week, nothing he is overly passionate about but something to pay the bills. I get that.
I look at the time and hear a few customers making their way to the store from the plant shop. I told him that I would see him tomorrow, and I put my phone away.
“Hi,” I greet two elderly ladies, each carrying a large plant. “Let me set those down for you while you look around.”
“Thank you, dear,” the one with the bright purple streak blending into a neat bob haircut replies with a toothy smile.
I return her smile. “I see Ben has sold you each a Lucky Bamboo.”
The other woman, who has already made her way to the Nora Roberts section, nods. “That is one handsome gentleman,” she says. I see the one with the purple in her hair nodding wildly, agreeing.
“If I was only fifty years younger,” she chirps and lets out a cackle that makes me smile.
The two of them laugh together as if in on a secret. “He could sell me a lot more than a Lucky Bamboo.”
She makes her way to her friend, and they spend the next hour bickering, laughing, and teasing one another. They may be sisters or even best friends. I think of Lucy and Briar and hope to have that same type of companionship as we age.
Ben appears, and the ladies straighten up as they see him, adjusting their cardigans. They’re beaming.
“Ladies,” He greets them with a sincere smile, maybe even a brief look of flirtation.
He approaches as I type on my laptop. I’ve been Googling what to wear to a dance class. Apparently, I need to wear heels and a dress. I close the laptop.
“I’m heading out for the afternoon,” he says. “I have some errands for the shop. I’ll pick you up later?”
I light up at the thought of tonight. So much for downplaying my feelings. I’ll work on that. I have lots of time. We see each other nearly every day. I notice that the women are eavesdropping on our conversation.
“Sounds great,” I say, “I’ll be ready.”
“Can’t wait.” his dimple appears, a glint in his eyes. How easy it is to look at him. I can see a small portion of his tattoo peeking out from one of his sleeves that he pushes up nonchalantly. My eyes trail up his arms to his shoulder. I notice how they stretch the fabric ever so slightly.
Shit. I’m in trouble. This attraction is hitting me like a heat wave in the middle of July.
I sit back on my stool. “See you then.” I manage to utter. My mouth dries up as if I have been walking in the desert all afternoon.
He turns to the ladies as he is about to leave. “Remember, they don’t require a lot of water,” he says, pointing at the bamboo I placed on the table.
They nod in comprehension but remain silent, grinning ear to ear
I wave to him as he leaves.
They both turn to me. “Is he your boyfriend?” The shorter one asks.
I laugh, God, I wish.
What? My subconscious seems to be taking over my thoughts. I am officially losing it.
“No, we’re just good friends,” I admit.
“Seems like a waste to me.” She grins and says something about how she would let him ‘boil her cabbage.’
I can guess what she means.