Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Sage
“Release!” The woman leading the archery class holds her hands behind her back, her stance strong and firm as she watches her students’ arrows fly toward their targets.
There are groans from those who barely hit the outer rings, and some mini celebrations from others who managed a more central hit. None of them nail the ‘gold’ though. The centers of every target from today’s class remain intact.
“Secure your bows, you may collect your arrows.” She doesn’t move, standing stoically still, watching her class as they carefully tidy away their equipment.
“Perfect. Well done for today, all. I’ll see you all next Friday afternoon.
Same time, same place.” Finally, she smiles, but it’s small, miniscule even.
I see it, though, the satisfaction shooting out of her every pore in waves as her students politely say goodbye, gather their things, and leave.
I don’t know why, but coming here relaxes me, it helps me gather my thoughts.
“You could always join in with the sessions again, Miss Bayley.”
Oh, shit. She’s looking at me.
“Er…I was just leaving.” With the most awkward wave in the world, I turn away from the metal fencing from where I have been watching, toward the parking lot, before making a beeline for my car.
The array of pendants I’m wearing clink together as I fumble in my purse for my keys, and I jump when I hear the gurgling croak of a raven from above, the birthmark on my hip tingling in recognition.
“Ow, shit, fuck.” Something in my purse just stabbed my palm, and as I pull out my keys, my pen comes out with them…
Because it’s stuck in my fucking hand.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath in and grip the pen, pulling it out on the exhale with a wince. The damage isn’t bad or hospital-worthy and I let out a heavy sigh. This is why I haven’t participated in any of the archery classes since that first time.
To be fair, I’m surprised the tutor, Imogen, would even think to invite me back to another session.
The first one was a literal fucking nightmare and I managed to send two people to the ER.
Imogen must have had luck on her side that day, because one of my arrows would have gone through her forehead if she hadn’t ducked at just the right second.
“Ooh, Miss Bayley. That looks nasty. Come to the office, I have a first aid kit.” Suddenly, Imogen is right in front of me, gripping my hand in hers and inspecting the damage.
“I’ll be fine, I have one in my purse.” Like a girl scout, I always have a first aid kit on hand. Mainly because it’s inevitable that I’ll need it for something.
Unlike most people, my kit is replenished on the regular. Usually the simple things like Band-Aids and sterilizing wipes. Occasionally a butterfly stitch or two, which I have become quite the expert in applying. I don’t think this injury needs anything other than a Band-Aid, though.
Imogen tuts and shakes her head. “You need to join back up to the classes or stop staring at my students through the fence, Miss Bayley, okay? I’m sorry, but I’ve had some complaints.”
I nod, unable to find the right words. I desperately want to join again, to have another try, but I can’t trust myself. Watching the arrows fly through the air gives me a strange sense of peace, so I thought archery could be my thing. I thought wrong.
“Okay. Thank you. Sorry.” Tipping my head in respect, I slowly back away. “Ow.” I turn to look at the offending object…the side mirror of my—no, not my—of a car that I thought was mine right up until this moment.
I didn’t use the car today.
I rode my bicycle…that is currently leaning up against the fence a few feet from where I was standing.
The affliction for clumsiness that seems to follow me around is getting worse because I swear I’m becoming more forgetful, too.
I keep imagining myself doing things, or having done things, only to realize how fucking wrong I am.
I think I need some stronger pendants. Or I should charge the ones with crystals beneath the moonlight tonight.
Yes, that’s what I need to do. I haven’t done it all week, finding myself too busy to remember.
Imogen shakes her head again, with a barely contained eye roll thrown in, before she turns and walks away. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was pissed off, but I do. I remind her of her younger sister, who died some years ago.
I’m somewhat of a medium, and I occasionally receive messages from spirits.
It helps with the readings I give in the shop and is another skill Trina has helped me to develop because the spirits are rarely clear about their messages.
Learning to interpret some of the symbols and colors I’m shown took me a couple of years to navigate, but things have been a little clearer lately.
I’ve been experiencing smells associated with the spirits and I swear I heard a voice during a reading last week.
The problem is, it’s not exactly a transferable skill or something that will be useful in the grand scheme of things, not unless I hit the big time like Tyler Henry or The Long Island Medium and land my own TV show.
Gray clouds are creeping in and beginning to darken the bright sky, which means I need to stop standing here like a crazy woman and go home before I get caught in the rain.
It may only take me five minutes, but I promised Danika I’d grab dinner from Chili’s on the way home and I don’t want to have to change before I eat.
“Is that you, Sage?” I hear the voice before I see where it comes from, and with my palms on the handlebars of my bicycle, I pause, because I know exactly who it is.
Plastering on a wide smile, I turn to see Professor Haught—AKA Professor Hottie, or his actual name, which is Johnny.
“Good evening, Professor.”
He closes the driver’s side door on his truck and slides a hand in his pocket as he saunters over.
The problem with Professor Hottie is that he knows he’s hot.
Like, incredibly so. He’s tall, very well built, has a jaw that could cut glass, is always impeccably dressed, and there’s even a subtle chin dimple, but his whole aura is just not for me.
Even after all this time, I still can’t put my finger on why, exactly, I constantly turn down the most eligible bachelor I think has ever existed.
“You giving archery another shot?” He nods behind me toward the large green space on the other side of the fence.
“No.” I shrug because this is one person I don’t like to engage in long conversations with. It will inevitably end with him asking me out and me turning him down with a polite smile.
His grin would be disarming to most sane women, but it doesn’t make my vagina tingle.
“Would you like a ride home?” He gestures toward his blue hybrid truck.
“No thanks. I have my bicycle. And didn’t you only just get here?” It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask more questions, like why is he here, but my stomach is rumbling.
“Yes, but it’s not important. I can come back later or give them a call. Come on.” Without waiting for a response, he leans forward and grips the handlebars of my bicycle, then proceeds to push it toward his truck.
I think I’m in shock because all I seem able to do is stare, my lips slightly parted and my brows furrowed in confusion.
“Professor, please. I’ll be okay. I enjoy biking and it’s only five minutes away. Plus, I have to get dinner so I’m not even going straight home.” Finally finding my big girl ovaries, I jog over to catch up, just as he’s about to load my bicycle into his truck bed.
“Where are you headed? Chili’s? I’ll make a stop. No problem.” One side of his mouth tilts upward and he winks before effortlessly lifting my beloved Sully, white basket on the handlebars and all.
At this point, I really shouldn’t argue, but those five minutes biking home are mine.
Just for me. A small portion of my ride is filled with the delicious scents of the forest trees of Willowbrook Park until I hit Richmond Avenue, then it’s back to reality.
It’s a short journey, but it’s one I enjoy.
“Can I have my bicycle back, please, Professor? I’m declining your kind offer for a ride, but I appreciate it.
” This is another reason I don’t enjoy spending one-on-one time with him.
He seems to have the impression that he can tell me what to do, and I’ll eat my fake witch’s hat the day I ever take orders from a man.
I have Danika to thank for that. Before college, I was basically a doormat.
The foster homes I lived in were never warm and fuzzy, so I looked for love where I could find it—which was usually in the pants of whichever male classmate wanted a blowie.
I was so desperate to be liked and to experience an orgasm that I hadn’t realized how dumb I was being.
The cell number on the bathroom door of the men’s room was mine, and I always answered…
But Danika showed me how to respect myself, how to stand up for myself, and that I am worthy of not being treated like a booty call.
“No, no. It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Like the gentleman he is, he opens the passenger side door for me and I cross my arms over my chest.
“I do mind. Not to be rude, Professor, but I don’t need your help.
” He’s friends with Trina and has been a customer at the shop since before Danika and I came along, so I don’t want to burn those bridges and act like a total bitch.
Plus, I don’t remember him always being like this.
It’s like, all of a sudden, he decided he wanted to date me and that was that.
Although, my wishy-washy attitude with him is probably why he is so persistent.
I don’t move, standing beside his truck while he continues to hold open the door, and we stare each other down for just a few seconds. He breaks first.
“Okay, little miss independent.” He chuckles, closing the door and coming around to the back again. “Here you go.” After lifting my bicycle out of his shiny truck bed, he places it in front of me, allowing his fingers to linger for longer than necessary.
His minty fresh breath is impossible to ignore, he’s that close.
“Thank you.”
“To help mend my broken heart, will you agree to dinner with me tomorrow night?” He tilts his head and looks at me through his beautiful long lashes, but still doesn’t let go of my bicycle.
“The shop’s open until after midnight on Saturdays, and it’s my turn to work. Danika’s preparing for a visit from her brother so we can’t switch either. Sorry.” I give my best disappointed smile and shrug.
He leans in, closer than before, his nose mere millimeters away from mine. I’m not the girl that backs down, I find it almost impossible, so I remain deathly still and hold my breath.
“One of these days, you’ll say yes to me.” His voice is low, deep, but it doesn’t do the things to my lady parts that he’s intending. Zero flutters.
Backing off, he looks me up and down, the smirk on his face unmoving.
“Until next time, Sage.” He turns and walks toward the driver’s door of his truck before effortlessly climbing inside.
The engine comes to life with a loud roar and I’m surprised I didn’t hear it when he arrived.
I must have been really zoned out in my own head.
A single drop of rain falls onto my hand and I look up. Great. Another drop lands on my cheek and I sigh. I would’ve been a lot closer to home already had it not been for the Professor interruption.
I could be eating a delicious fajita, satisfying my rumbling stomach with the delicious spicy mess, but no. Now, I’m going to get soaked on the way home, meaning I’ll have to get changed before I get to eat.
It’s fine. I actually love the rain. The smell, the sound, the way it bounces off of every hard surface. It’s like a fresh start each time the rain falls, washing away the waste and bringing about a new perspective.
Sighing, I mount my bicycle and begin the journey home. The heavens open thirty seconds into my ride, and I could interpret it as a sign that I should have taken the offered lift from the professor, but I won’t. I don’t. Because there’s no way I was supposed to get in that truck with him.
I have no idea what direction my life is headed in, but it’s not in his.
The rain accentuates the scent of the trees as I make my way to Richmond Avenue, and I take a moment to close my eyes and inhale deeply. It reminds me that I’m alive, I’m happy, and I’m content.
Okay, so the happy and content part makes me feel a little dull, but I’ll be thirty in a few months. If I was miserable then it would be glaringly obvious that I’m doing something wrong with my life.
So why do I feel like it’s going nowhere?
I run a shop, I have a lovely home, I have the most amazing best friend, I want for nothing. Well, except orgasms, but maybe that’s the universe’s way of making things fair. Like a balance.
I have a wonderful life, but I’m not allowed orgasms.
That’s some bullshit right there.
I’ll take a little disruption if it means experiencing the one thing I can’t have.
Maybe the disruption will come when I have that conversation with Trina that she was so elusive about at the hospital last night.
That’s the real reason I came out here today.
It wasn’t to watch the archers—although I do find it soothing for some reason—but it was to try and get the looming conversation out of my head.
Serious isn’t a thing Trina is known for. Whimsical, yes, full of fun facts, yes, but serious…? No. Trina has a way of infusing joy and laughter into literally everything, which is also why seeing her so upset yesterday caught me off guard.
Thankfully, George should be okay. The doctors said they want to keep him for observation for a few days before they decide whether he’s good to go home.
For Trina’s sake, and selfishly mine, I’m hoping the decision is quick and positive.
My landlords and long-time friends have been a part of my world since I found the shop the day I arrived for college.
I’m not ready for that change. I think I’ll continue to sacrifice my orgasms if it means keeping the Galdurs around for many more years to come.
What they have together is the thing every romantic film strives for, the thing every romance book describes as fate. They’re literal perfection and I won’t have it any other way.
The shop comes into view and I decide to order Chili’s online for delivery instead of picking it up. That’ll give me time to get changed.
Is that…?
Yup. The professor’s truck is idling outside the shop, with him still sitting inside.
I could deal with it, or I could pretend I don’t see him.
Option number two wins and I head around the back.
Professor Haught is a problem for another day.