Chapter 20
STEPHANIE
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Swoosh. Swoosh. Thud . . . Thud.
I can’t figure out what the sound is, but I don’t like it.
Swoosh. Shoosh. Thud. Thud.
I swat at the air to make it stop, but I can’t see anything, and my hand doesn’t find purchase. Then I realize that my eyes are closed and I’m lying down, so—with great effort—I open my eyes, slowly sit up, and try to orient myself.
Thud. Thud. Swoosh. Swoosh. Thud. Thud.
It’s nighttime.
I’m on an outdoor lounge chair by a swimming pool.
A light breeze hits the air, and I catch the smell of gardenias. Gardenias. I remember!
I’m staying at Pam’s house. She told me to get settled in and then, if I wanted to, to come inside the main house to chat. That’s what I was doing when I smelled flowers and sat down for a minute to enjoy them. I must have fallen asleep.
Thud. Swoosh. Swoosh. Thud. Thud.
It’s that sound again—but this time I also notice a rich singing voice coming from the same direction.
“Up in the club, we just broke up, I’m doin’ my own lil’ thing.” Is someone singing “Single Ladies”?
My eyes search in the direction of the sound and land on a half-naked man jumping rope on the other side of the swimming pool. By half naked, I mean that all he has on are tiny, low-slung running shorts. There’s a lot of flesh on display.
What the Easy-Bake Oven?
It’s Mallory.
He’s covered in sweat, wearing headphones, and softly singing while he jumps rope.
But this isn’t the jump roping I did when I was a kid.
This is jumping and swinging and fancy footwork—almost like he’s dancing.
Holy crap! He just let go of one of the handles, looped it in a circle, and then caught it and kept going. What kind of sorcery is this?
I haven’t seen Mallory since we left the restaurant and have no idea what to say to him, so for now, I’ll observe from a distance.
Dinner tonight was . . . interesting. Is that the right word for it?
My mind swims with so many different facets of the evening that I don’t know what to focus on or how to process everything.
My strategy with Mallory has always been to acknowledge that yes, he’s many things that are good and kind.
But he’s also a two-faced, cheating, lying scumbag who—though in procession with the gravitational pull of the sun—is to be shunned at all costs.
Oh, and that men like him cause pain, humiliation, and are a plague to all womankind.
But according to convincing evidence presented earlier, he's apparently none of those negative things.
Thud. Thud. Swoosh. Swoosh. Thud. Thud.
“‘Cause if you like it, then you should’ve put a ring on it.
“If you like it, then you should’ve put a ring on it.”
For some reason, finding Mallory singing Beyoncé in what he thinks is a private moment makes me smile.
While past reasons to keep my distance from Mallory have gone up in smoke, new ones float to the front of my mind.
He still makes me nervous, but for completely different reasons.
Interest and attraction aren’t the problem—I had both the first time I saw him.
It’s that I still have trust issues with men, and I’m not sure how to move past them.
And I’d be lying if I said Malloy’s quip about me being happy in his bed didn’t make me weary.
The last thing I need is to walk into a repeat performance of the problems in my last relationship.
A distant part of my brain is already taking out a metaphorical pen and paper, ready to jot down any new reasons to keep my distance from him. At least for now.
I collect myself for what lies immediately ahead of me.
There are things I want to say to Mallory when his family isn’t around, and this seems like an opportune time.
I’d also prefer to clear the air before our meeting tomorrow.
Though not ideal—I have too many thoughts, and right now they are all running around like they’re at an elementary school fire drill with no teacher—I don’t think I’m going to get a better opportunity, so I decide to put on my big-girl panties and go talk to him.
I bravely stand up and walk toward him. With his headphones on, he doesn’t see me or hear my approach.
Thud. Thud. Swoosh. Swoosh. Thud. (Release.) Thud. Thud.
He’s still singing.
“Whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh!
“Whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh!”
“Hey, Mallory.” He doesn’t react, so I talk louder. “Mallory!” As I come around the side of the pool, I see that his eyes are closed, so he still can’t see me. “Mallory!” I’m half-yelling at this point.
He opens his eyes, and they go wide with surprise. He misses his jump, trips on the rope, and goes down unceremoniously on the pool deck, the rope tangled in his feet. “Stephanie! Where did you come from?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, but you couldn’t hear me with your headphones on.” I reach out to help him up, but he untangles the rope and gets up on his own while wiping his hands on his shorts.
His eyes roam over me, as if to ascertain that I’m real, and stop on my hair. A slight smile forms on his face. I’ve been sleeping on it, so my hair must look terrible. I self-consciously reach up just as he raises a hand, and we both freeze.
“Sorry,” he points to my hair, “you have something up there. May I?”
“Um, yeah. I guess so.” It sounds more like a question.
Whatever is up there doesn’t come out with a gentle tug, so he steps a little closer, chest still heaving heavily from jumping rope, and uses his other hand to help dislodge it. I can’t help myself and lean in a little to take a sniff.
He instantly freezes. “Did you just smell me?”
“No.” I say it too fast, and my voice is pitched too high.
He knows I did. But dang it, I wanted to confirm that he stinks when he sweats!
I can, unfortunately, report that Lou is incorrect: he does not stink when covered in sweat.
I’m desperate to find a flaw in this man, and if I had gotten a whiff of anything unpleasant, I was going to leverage it in full.
“There we go.” His hands come back down holding a small twig with about three or four leaves on it. He holds it out like he’s giving me a bouquet of flowers.
I reach up and awkwardly take it as he steps back. This is something that would be in a cheesy high-school romance movie.
We stand looking at each other for a moment before I break the silence. “I came out several hours ago but got distracted and fell asleep. I just woke up.” I point to where I’d been sleeping as my evidence.
“I didn’t notice you over there when I came out. My mom wondered if you were going to come in and say hi once you got settled. When you didn’t, she thought that maybe you’d had enough of the Mallory family for the night.”
“Not at all! Your family is great. Considering . . .” I let my sentence die out.
“I meant to come in and say hello to her, but then . . .” I gesture to the lounge chair then look back at him.
The awkwardness in the air is palpable, and I’m unsure how to begin what I need to tell him. “What time is it?”
“Around 11:30.”
“Is your mom still awake?”
“I don’t know. She went up to her room about half an hour ago. Melo went home about the same time, and Kay went with her, so I’m the last one up.”
This is already close to the longest that Mallory and I have ever talked alone.
Nervous energy builds in my body, making me happy to be holding the small twig.
I start twirling it in my fingers. “Look, I don’t know what to say about tonight.
” I blurt out. “I feel horrible that I caused a scene on what was obviously supposed to be a big night for Melodie.”
“Are you kidding me? First of all, Melodie has a way of making every night a big night for Melodie, so I think she’ll be okay with things not going to plan.
And second, I don’t know when my sisters have enjoyed dinner more.
They took a vote once we all got back to my mom’s house, and they want to kick me out of the family and keep you!
” His smile is lopsided and completely adorable, making my cheeks warm with a blush. “No they didn’t!”
Mallory laughs. “No. They didn’t. But I wouldn’t worry about my sisters. They thought it was hilarious.”
I’m not as embarrassed as I thought I would be talking to him about it.
“I was trying so hard to save them from the despicable man,” I gesture at his entire body, “that was using them all.” I attempt to apologize with my eyes.
“Your mother must be a saint to not think I’m the craziest lady on the planet. ”
“I think you might be my mom’s favorite person on the planet right now—you thought she looked young enough to date me.” We both let out a little laugh.
While I’m not completely comfortable with the situation, it’s still the most comfortable I’ve ever been around him. My mind swims with what I’ve already said and still need to say.
As I sort through my rattling thoughts, I twirl the small twig even more.
“Mallory, I don’t know what to say. Not just about tonight, but about the last year and a half.
I jumped to so many conclusions about you, and they led me to think you were some hideous man that used women.
All I’ve done is think horrible things about you ever since. ”
“All you’ve done?”
“Yes, and I’m so genuinely sorry.” I pour as much sincerity into my words as I can.
“Don’t be! As a man, I find it incredibly flattering that a beautiful woman has been able to think of only me for over a year.”
“Wait, what?” My brain malfunctions.
“You said all you’ve done is think about me ever since we met. Why didn’t you tell me you felt this way?”
A laugh finds its way out of me. In my moment of nerves, how did he do that? “I said all I thought were horrible things about you.”
“Still means you were thinking about me.”
Is this banter? Is it always this much . . . fun? And why is it affecting the area in the center of my chest so much?
“I also said you were hideous!”