5. Sean
Ican’t believe it’s her.
I run a hand over my face as if I can scrub the image of her out of my mind. How is this possible? Small neighborhood, I guess. But still. Of all the people to end up beneath the same roof. I think back to that day I saw her. Shit. I can’t believe that she’s here, in my house.
It’s too much to be a coincidence.
I text Connor and the guys to tell them I’ll miss the workout. I wasn’t planning on helping the stranger move in. But she’s not exactly a stranger. I’m not sure why I feel obligated to help her, but I do. I guess for the same reason I ran over to make sure she was okay the day I saw that car nearly kill her.
I clench my fist at the memory. I was either going to make sure that she was okay or track down that driver and strangle him. I didn’t think an assault case would go over well with Coach, though. Never did I expect to be enthralled by her attitude. And now, somehow, I’m stuck lifting her few furniture pieces out of a rented box truck and into my basement.
Astrid tries to help. It’s adorable, but not really helpful when there is over a foot of height separating us. Luckily for me, she doesn’t have much stuff. And luckily for her, I’m strong enough to do this mostly alone.
I try to finish faster when the clear blue sky starts to turn gray, and the wind picks up. Good thing I was here to help. She would’ve spent most of the afternoon moving stuff in the rain. At this rate we should be done well before it storms.
A few times, we bump into each other. The stairway is small, and I don’t always see her over what I’m carrying. I try to be more careful. I don’t want to hurt her, and I have to grab her by the arms a few times to make sure I don’t push her over.
“God, you alright?” I ask, catching her by the waist to keep her from falling backwards as I navigate the corner with a particularly large box. I shift to hold it with one arm so that I can steady her with the other. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” she says, her chest raising and falling. Her braid has begun to come undone, and she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
I look at her to make sure she’s really okay. She seems startled.
“You sure?”
She looks at my hands on her waist, and I realize that I’m still holding her. “Sorry.” I let her go, surprised to find I miss the warmth of her body.
“It’s okay,” she whispers.
I try to focus on the task at hand, but my mind keeps drifting back to the fact that she’s the one that’s moving in.
I’m not sure I believe in fate, but her sudden appearance in my life has to be more than a coincidence. Right?
I can’t help but steal a couple glances at her as we straighten out a particularly ugly loveseat that she seems fond of. I will say, she’s stronger than she looks. Determined. And there is something about that quiet confidence of a five-foot-tall woman who insists she can do everything herself.
I plop down on the small couch and stretch out my legs. I wasn’t lying. This really was a substitute workout.
She steps back, wiping at her forehead with the back of her hand. Her shirt pulls above her waist, showing off her soft curves. I remember to look away seconds too late, and she catches me.
“You uh, you want to get some pizza for lunch?” I ask. It’s the first thing that comes to mind. I pretend to look around the room, hoping that my stare comes off as an innocent sweep of our hard work.
We’re about halfway done, maybe a bit more. It’d be nice to have lunch.
“Sure.” She shrugs. “My purse is over there?—”
“I’ll order it.” I stand, grabbing my phone off a stack of boxes she hasn’t unpacked, happy to have something to focus on besides the shape of her thighs, or the way the small of her waist becomes visible each time she bends over. “What do you want? Cheese? Pepperoni?”
“Pepperoni. Extra cheese. Aren’t I supposed to buy it for you, you know, the person who helped me.”
“Like I said, it was my workout.” I hit order on my phone.
“Thanks, uh, for helping,” she says, “you don’t have to, you know, I can grab the rest.” Her voice sounds small.
“I don’t mind helping. It’ll be faster if I help you finish. You’re pretty strong, you know.”
That makes her smile. “Thanks.” She looks proud of herself.
A strange thing constricts in my chest. I think it feels good, and I think it is because she smiled. I run a hand through my hair. “Not such a good runner though.”
Her eyes narrow and her lips purse. “I take back my thanks.”
I laugh. I like her disapproval nearly as much as I like her smile. I take my seat on the couch again. “Are you training for something?” So much for keeping my distance.
“No.” She picks at her nails. “I just run when I’m mad.”
“You get mad?” She’s so bubbly. Sassy, maybe. But bubbly for sure. Definitely not the type of person who gets mad.
“Yeah, well.” She sits in the chair opposite me. She grabs a pillow and hugs it to her chest. “Things with work haven’t been going so great.”
“You’re a teacher?” I already know this. But she hasn’t told me. Everything I know I’ve gathered from Connor or Heather.
“Yeah.”
“The school year just started though?” I wonder how work can be so bad so quickly. Unless it’s the people she works with that are the problem.
“Yeah…”
“You don’t have to tell me…” I’m surprised to find myself prying into her life. “I just wondered…”
She sighs, squeezing the pillow tighter. “I recently graduated with my master’s degree, and they were supposed to give me a raise.” She swallows. “School year starts. No raise.”
“Damn, that sucks. I’m sorry.”
“Then my apartment raised the rent and… it was just a bad week for me.” She gives me a tight smile, but this time the warmth doesn’t meet her eyes.
“And that’s why you’re here?” I kind of already knew this, parts of it at least. But it feels different to learn the details from her.
“Yeah.” She sounds sad and I feel guilty. She shouldn’t have to work harder to earn more when she’s done so much already.
“Anyways. Thanks for helping, again,” she says, looking up at me. “I really appreciate it. Please don’t feel obligated to help me. I really can finish the rest on my own.”
“Really, it’s not a problem.” I try to sound as casual as I can. “I don’t mind. I’m going to grab some more stuff from the truck.”
“All right well,” she pauses, looking at me and then away. “Thank you.”
I don’t like the way she says it. It sounds a whole hell of a lot like, no one has ever helped me before, and that thought does dangerous things to my sense of judgement.
I’ve strictly limited myself to casual hookups. No dates. No feelings. No second times or unmet promises. With my life, I can’t exactly offer much more than that. And I can already tell, Astrid would challenge that in a way I haven’t allowed myself to want in a long, long time.
A knot twists in my stomach and I try to take a settling breath. I cannot let myself become attached, no matter how beautiful or sweet she is. I finally have my dream, and I can’t afford to let anything distract from that.