Chapter Eight: Define the Relationship

Abigail

*

Why rock the boat?  Ben didn’t mention sex again after the karaoke night so neither did I.  A week later and yet, nothing.  I knew it would come up eventually, but until it did, I was going to ignore the voice in my head nagging me to come clean with him about my sexual experience, or lack thereof.

*

A familiar knock at the door alerted me to his arrival and when I opened it, Ben’s smiling face made that nagging voice disappear.  I hugged him as he stepped into the apartment and he kissed my cheek.

*

“I ordered a pizza,” I said as we headed to the couch.

*

“Awesome, I’m starving.  Is The Office new tonight?”  He picked up the remote and flipped through a couple of channels.  It didn’t take long for the pizza box to empty, our show started, and we settled on the couch together, his arms curled around me in a firm hold.  I liked the way he gently shook when he laughed at the stupidity of Michael Scott and Dwight onscreen, I could feel the rumble in his chest on my back.  Every now and then he’d drop a kiss on the top of my head.

*

As soon as the show ended, Ben rose from the couch to stretch.  Circling around the room, he paused to look at a few of the framed photos on the bookshelf in the corner.  “Who are these people?” he asked, pointing at the picture of my brothers, sisters, and I at Christmas.

*

Joining him in front of the bookcase, I pointed to each person, “My oldest sister, Anna, and her husband, Will.  My other sister, Ashley, and her husband, Cain.  Me.  My younger brother, Derek, and his fiancé, Samantha.”

*

“What’s with the letters on the stockings?”

*

“Those are our initials.”

*

“No, they aren’t.  You’re holding a ‘B’.”

*

“Well, we consider that my initial.”

*

“I don’t get it, why?”

*

“When we were little, my mother had a hard time telling apart our clothes and our toys, and we used to fight over everything because it was hard to have anything that was our own without a brother or sister stealing it.  So she started marking everything.  She tried using colors at first, but that didn’t last long because we all wanted to be the same color, so she turned to initials.  Anna, Ashley, and Abigail all start with ‘A’ so to prevent us from fighting over who got to use ‘A’ as their initial, she used the second letters of our first names.  Thus, Anna’s initial is ‘N,’ Ashley’s is ‘S,’ and mine is ‘B.’ Derek didn’t have the same problem, so he got to use his actual initial.”

*

“Is that why they’re carved into the frame?” He picked up the wooden frame and traced the outline of the ‘B’ on the right-hand side.

*

“Yeah, they gave it to me for my birthday.  We’ve called each other by those initials for a long time now.  It’s sort of become tradition, or a family joke.”

*

“Wait, what did you say her name was?” He indicated Derek’s fiancé.

*

“Samantha.”

*

“Why does she get an ‘A’?”

*

“Well, ‘S’ was already being used by Ashley.  And we all figured that we’re old enough not to get upset if someone had an ‘A’ and…”

*

“The second letter of Samantha is ‘A,’” he finished my sentence.

*

“Exactly.”

*

“So, can I call you ‘B’ too?”  He laughed and put both arms around my waist, hugging me from behind.

*

“I don’t know.  I think that would be a little weird.  Ashley, Anna, and Derek are the only people who call me that.  Will, Cain, and Samantha don’t use our initials.  The stockings were just a joke my dad came up with.  My parents haven’t even called me that since I was in high school.”

*

“Okay, how about Abby?”  

*

My heart leapt, he wants a nickname for me! “No one calls me that.”

*

“But can I?”  He squeezed me a little tighter, resting his chin on my shoulder.

*

You can call me anything you want. “I don’t know.  Say it again.”

*

“Abby,” he whispered it in my ear.

*

My stomach flipped at the name, “I like the sound of that.”

*

Ben

*

“Abby, I have a favor to ask of you.”  Gathering my jacket and keys from the kitchen counter, I joined her at the front door.

*

“Okay.  Shoot.” She smiled and ran her hand down my arm.  God, if only she knew what touching me like that does to me!

*

“I’m playing softball with some of my friends this weekend and I’d like you to come with me.”  I pulled my jacket on and waited for her reaction.  It took a few seconds.

*

She spoke cautiously, as if she hadn’t heard me correctly.  “You want me to meet your friends?”

*

“Yes.”  Deep breath, Ben. “And I want to introduce you as my girlfriend.”

*

“Is that what I am?”  She turned her eyes up and looked into mine.  Was she searching for the truth?  Couldn’t she hear the sincerity in my voice?  I’d never wanted anything more.

*

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it since the karaoke night and that’s what I’d like you to be.  What do you want?” We stood about a foot apart, but she took a step back, increasing the distance.

*

“I don’t know.”

*

Liar. “Well, let me phrase it differently.  Do you want me to be your boyfriend?”

*

No response.  I tried to keep my frustration to a minimum.  I knew she liked me.  She wouldn’t keep spending so much time with me if she didn’t.  She wasn’t Rebecca who didn’t care one way or another who she spent her time with.  I meant something to Abigail.  Why won’t she just admit it?

*

I tried another approach. “Do you enjoy spending time with me?”

*

“Yes.”

*

YES! “Do you want to continue spending time with me?”

*

“Yes.”

*

Thank you! “Do you want to date anyone else?”

*

“No.”

*

I knew it! “Do you enjoy this?”  I cupped her face with both hands and lightly touched my lips to hers.  A sigh escaped her throat.

*

“Yes.”

*

Hell yeah, you do. “And this?”  I moved my hands to the back of her head and held her mouth to mine, bruising her lips with force and passion.  Her fingers dug into my back as our tongues effortlessly waltzed around each other.  When I finally released her, she kept her eyes closed and pressed her fists into my chest, a smile plastered across her pretty face.

*

“I know you liked that,” I whispered.

*

“Oh yeah.”

*

“So what’s the problem, Abby?”

*

Her eyes popped open and found mine, “There’s no problem.”

*

“Saturday, you’ll come and play softball with me and my friends?”

*

“Absolutely.”

*

“As my girlfriend?” I qualified.

*

“Absolutely.”

*

Finally!  Now we’re getting somewhere.

*

*

<– Chapter Seven: Number 24********************Chapter Nine: Play Ball!–>

Chapter Seven: Number 24

Abigail

*

I should have felt uncomfortable, vulnerable, but Ben put me at ease somehow.  I didn’t know how we got to that point, usually the guy lost interest around date three, but Ben stuck around for over a month.

*

When he dropped me off at my apartment that evening, he kissed me, made plans for the next night, and said, “I love your smile.”  He’d gotten into the habit of telling me random things he liked about me at the end of each date: I like that you always smell like vanilla, your laugh is the best sound I hear all day, I love that you are willing to work your way from the bottom, up- that shows courage I’ve never had.

*

With such encouragement, how could I not be falling for him?  I still questioned his sanity sometimes, after all- he seemed to really be into me- but if he was insane, I was ready to follow him straight to the looney bin.  So the next day, I dialed his number, deciding to stop being the girl who couldn’t believe what was happening and start being the girl who showed the guy she liked just how much she liked him.

*

“Hey, what are you doing tonight?” I asked once he answered the phone.

*

“I don’t know.  I don’t have any plans.”

*

Wow, do you realize your voice makes me melt every time? “You do now.  We’re going out.”

*

“We are?”  The surprise in his voice was unmistakable.  My excitement increased.

*

“Yes.  I feel bad that you’re always the one putting in the effort, so tonight I’m doing everything.”

*

“Oh, really?”  Laughter danced in his tone, “Well, don’t I feel special to have a beautiful woman making plans for me.  What’re we doing?”

*

“It’s a surprise.  I’ll pick you up at 9:00.”

*

“You’ll pick me up?  You’re going to drive?  You never want to drive.”

*

“I think that might have to do with the recent traumatic car accident I was in, but yes, I’m driving.  And you aren’t allowed to argue.”

*

Ben chuckled.  “Yes, ma’am.  What’s gotten into you?”

*

“Honestly?  I don’t know.  You, I guess.” You, definitely.

*

“I tend to have that effect on women.”  He spent the next several minutes trying to coax the surprise out of me, but when I refused to budge, he left me with, “I like this stubborn side of you.”

*

Snapping my phone shut, I began tidying up my living room in an attempt to work out some of the nervous energy pulsing through my body.  No guy ever brought on the butterflies like Ben did.

*

Sweeping a stack of magazines and junk mail into my arms, I headed to my bedroom and dumped the pile onto my bed.  A single sheet of notebook paper fluttered to the ground.  Bending over to pick it up, I recognized the words staring up at me and froze.

*

The list.  I hadn’t thought about it at all since my birthday, yet here it was.  I smoothed out the folds and stumbled into the living room, falling onto the couch.   I read each item carefully.

*

“Learn how to ski.  Nope.  Haven’t done that.  Get a tattoo. Nope.  Have a column in a national magazine or newspaper. Most definitely haven’t done that.”  I grew more disgusted with myself at each item.  What had I been doing the past ten years that I hadn’t accomplished anything?

*

So much for the new me.

*  *  *  *

*

“Are you okay?” Ben asked, sipping his beer and glancing around the bar.  I looked around, too.  The bar was full, but it was dreary and noisy.  We had to yell to hear each other, and the “Grade A” sign from the health department hanging behind the bartender looked suspiciously like it had been printed from the internet and not filled out by an inspector.

*

“Yeah, of course.  Why?”

*

“Well, you were so excited this afternoon on the phone, but now, I don’t know, you just don’t seem like you’re having a good time.”

*

“No, I am!  I am, really, I just had kind of a rough afternoon.”

*

“Oh, I’m sorry…” His voice got drowned out by the cackling of a couple of girls hanging onto the bar beside us.  Apparently they were attempting to score free drinks from the bartender even though he’d cut them off twenty minutes ago.

*

“Huh?” I leaned into him and he put his arm around my waist to pull my ear closer to his mouth.

*

“You wanna talk about it?” His breath tickled my neck.

*

“Um, no.  I’m fine.”

*

“Oh.  Okay.”  He released his hold on me and turned towards the stage at the front of the bar.  After a few painful seconds of silence he tilted towards me again and asked, “Hey, what’s going on up there, tonight?”

*

“You’ll see,” I responded.  At that moment, a curly haired man jumped onto the stage and brought a microphone to his lips.

*

“Ladies and gentlemen,” his booming voice broke out over the rumble in the bar, “welcome to Karaoke Night!  We’ve already got some singers signed up, so let’s get the party started with Miss Abigail Bronsen singing ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun.’  Give it up for Abigail everyone!”

*

“Karaoke?  That’s the plan?” Ben stared at me as if I’d just announced we were sealing a murder-suicide pact.

*

“That’s the plan.  If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, my fans await!”  I kissed his cheek and shoved through the crowd, taking the mike from the emcee and positioning myself on stage so I could watch Ben’s dumbfounded expression.

*

The music kicked in and I danced around the stage, catcalls and whistles from the audience fueling me into a frenzy as I picked up speed, swung my arms around my head, and sashayed my hips back and forth.  I let the music fill my head, pushing out all thoughts of the list and my incredibly uneventful twenty-five years on earth.

*

“I come home, in the morning light/ My mother says when you gonna live your life right/ Oh mother dear, we’re not the fortunate ones/ And girls just wanna have fun…” My voice rang out loud and clear, drifting to the far corners of the bar.  At the first note Ben’s jaw dropped in surprise, then adjusted into a cheesy grin.

*

“Woohooo!  Go Abigail!” he yelled, holding his phone up and snapping a few pictures.  He continued hooting and waving his phone in the air, the little screen glowing green and illuminating his hand as it swayed to the music.  The rest of the crowd cheered and sang along with me by the final chorus.

*

“Oh oh oh, girls just wanna have fu-unn!”

*

Applause erupted around me as I stepped off the stage and made my way back to Ben.

*

“Wow!  Way to kick things off, Abigail!  Let’s hear it for her one more time,” the emcee shouted into the mike and more cheering and applause broke out.

*

“That was amazing!”  Ben pressed forward and shouted in my ear.

*

I shrugged.  “I was just having a little fun.”

*

“You’re a natural performer.  How come you never told me you could sing?”

*

“Well, everyone can sing.”

*

“I can’t.”

*

“We’ll see about that.”

*

“Huh?” His eyes lost their spark as it dawned on him what I meant, “Abigail, you were great, really, but I’m terrible.  You don’t want to hear me sing.”

*

“It’s too late now.”  I pointed to the emcee, who brought the mike to his mouth.

*

“Alright ladies and gents, our next victim is Mr. Benjamin Harris, singing ‘I’m Too Sexy.’  Ladies, I guess you’ll have to be the judge of that.  Come on down, Benjamin!”

*

I clapped my hands together enthusiastically and let out a “Woohoo!” while nudging Ben forward.  “You’re up!”  His face became so white, it was almost translucent, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped several breaths in, but then he walked determinedly to the stage.

*

“Yeaaahhh Ben!”  I yelled after him.  Several girls right in front of the stage mimicked my calls and Ben’s face blushed deep red as he grabbed the microphone.

*

“You’re going to pay for this, Abigail,” he threatened, waiting for the music to start.  The first verse was TERRIBLE!  He missed half the words and sang so quietly it was hard to hear, but roaring and support from the crowd encouraged him and he laughed his way through the rest of the song, good humouredly dancing off the stage at the end.

*

“Of all the songs in the world, that’s what you picked for me?” he accosted as soon as he broke through the throngs of people congregating around the bar.

*

“I thought it was appropriate.  I didn’t want you to take yourself too seriously.  And, come on, those girls up there did think you were too sexy for your shirt!”

*

Laughing, he asked, “How bad was I?”

*

“Awful!  But adorable.”  He grinned and kissed me, then sat back on his stool to watch the next performer, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against him.  My head rolled back and rested on his shoulder while we enjoyed the rest of the singers.  The list was nowhere on the register of my thoughts at that moment.

*

“So is that all you had up your sleeve?” he asked, opening the car door for me after closing time.

*

“Yeah.  Did you have fun?”

*

“I did.”  He got into the passenger seat and buckled up, looking thoughtfully out the window instead of at me.  Something wasn’t right.

*

“Are you sure?  You’re quieter than normal.”

*

“No, I did.  I had a great time.  I just thought…” he let his voice trail off and ruffled up his hair.

*

“What?”

*

Shifting in his seat, his breathing got heavy, “When you said you wanted to plan everything… well, I thought, nothing, it’s stupid.”

*

“What?  I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

*

“I thought you meant you were planning something, um… uh, something more intimate.”

*

Huh? “Oh?”  Holy crap. “Ohhh.”

*

Oh God, what do I do now?  Shit, of course he’s thinking about sex, he is a guy, Sex is the last thing I want to talk about. “I’m sorry, Ben, I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression,” I stammered, “but I’m not ready to talk about THAT.  We’ve only known each other a little while.  I don’t even know what this is that we’re doing, I…”

*

Shit, just tell him the truth, “I… I…”

*

You can do it.  Just spit it out. “Ben, I’m…”

*

He interrupted, placing his hand on my arm, “Hey, no need to explain.  I shouldn’t have presumed.  We’ll take it slow.  To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what we’re doing either.  But I know I want to spend more time with you.”

*

Thank God. “I want to spend more time with you, too.”

*

*

<– Chapter Six: Knowledge********************Chapter Eight: Define the Relationship

Chapter Six: Knowledge

Ben

*

“Tell me more about yourself.”  I took a sip of beer and met her eye across the table.   We were sitting in my sports bar after a Red Sox game and tour of my complex, finishing up a late dinner.  She only held my gaze for a few seconds before picking up her own glass, laughing, and looking down at her empty plate.

*

“What do you want to know?”

*

Everything. I literally wanted to learn everything there was to know about her.  It amazed me how much I’d learned and yet how little I knew.  I’d learned her favorite color was blue and she met her siblings once a week for dinner.  But I didn’t know her parents’ names or how she took her coffee.

*

I settled on a question quickly, though.  “Why do you like to read so much?”

*

“I don’t know how to answer that.”  She frowned and set her glass down.  Her eyebrows scrunched up and I loved that I recognized her thinking face.  I waited while she gathered her thoughts.

*

“Okay, well, I guess I like it because it gives me the opportunity to experience different things, see different people and places.  Books help me understand the world.  You can learn about the best and worst of human nature from a good piece of literature.”

*

“Is that why you became a journalist?  To learn about human nature?”

*

“Well, I’m not exactly a journalist.  I don’t get to write anything yet.  But, yes, I think that’s what made me want to be a writer.  What made you want to own your own business?”

*

“I didn’t like working for other people, I guess.”

*

She laughed and her eyes twinkled in the soft lights around us as she lifted her face and smiled at me.

*

“Okay, well, Inner City Sports,” I waved my hand around, indicating the painting of the complex hanging on the wall beside the bar, “was the product of trying to make my parents happy with my life choices.”  Abigail’s smile faded slightly and she reached for my hand.

*

“When I was in college, I had a tough time picking a major.  I guess you could say I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I was young, younger than all my friends because I finished high school a year early, and I just wanted to have fun.  My parents, well, they didn’t really understand because they’re both such driven people.  My dad’s a judge and he was a prosecutor for twenty years at the beginning of his career and my mom is a doctor, a pediatrician.”

*

She nodded and waited for me to continue.

*

“More?” I asked.

*

“More.”

*

“Well, they harassed me to follow in their footsteps for a while until they realized I had no interest in law or medicine.  Then they said they didn’t care what I did as long as I got an advanced degree in something.  So I chose business.  It was the most generic thing I could do and it got them off my back.  They thought an MBA would lead to great opportunities.”  I rolled my eyes and the right corner of her mouth twitched up for a second.

*

“So anyways, that’s why I own my own business.  I had a business degree, I had to do something with it.”

*

“I don’t think that’s the whole story.”

*

“Oh, you don’t?”

*

“You obviously love this place.  Your face lights up when you talk about it.”

*

“I guess you’re right.  I do love this place and a lot went into building it.”

*

“I’d like to hear more about it.”

*

“Really?  Okay.  Well, again, back in college, I used to volunteer for the Big Brother program at the local YMCA, as part of the philanthropy hours my fraternity had to put in.  There was one particular kid I worked with.  Dejuane.  He loved basketball more than anything else in the world, but his mother wouldn’t let him play on the courts in his neighborhood because of the gang and drug activity surrounding them.  The Y was too far for him to go alone, so he only got to play when I could pick him up.”  I paused to take another sip of my beer and make sure she was still paying attention.

*

“Anyways, so I built this place.  I wanted there to be a safe place for kids like Dejuane to go to play and have fun being kids.  Initially, I only planned the courts and fields, but realized pretty early on I couldn’t make a living, or keep it open, if I didn’t find some way of making money, so a couple of friends suggested adding the bar and gym and my brother-in-law suggested the memorabilia store to bring in revenue.”  I took another breath and grinned.

*

“Dejuane is sixteen now and works part-time in the store.  He’s doing great in school and plays for the varsity basketball team.”

*

Abigail put both elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands, glowing at me.  “Ben, that’s amazing.”

*

Not as amazing as your smile. “I see what you’re doing.  You don’t want to talk about yourself so you’ve got me talking about the complex.”

*

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk about myself, but I don’t have anything interesting to tell you.”

*

How can she think that? “I don’t believe that.”

*

“Honestly, I think you know everything about me there is to know.”

*

“I know that’s not true.  There’s still so much I don’t know about you.”  Moving to the chair beside her, I took both of her hands in mine and looked into her eyes.

*

“Like what?” she asked.

*

“Like why you don’t want to talk about yourself.”

*

She pulled her hands away and looked at the tablecloth.  She started tracing the circular pattern with her fingertips.

*

“Abigail?”

*

“Ben, really, I just can’t.  I’m sorry.”

*

“You can’t what?”

*

“Tell you about myself.”

*

“Why not?”

*

“Because I don’t want you to disappear,” she spoke so quietly I almost missed it.  It took me off guard.  I had no clue where she got the idea I was going to disappear, but it gave me hope that she must like me a lot, otherwise she wouldn’t be worried, right?

*

“I’m not going to disappear.” I leaned forward, reaching to her face and tilting her chin back towards me.  Her bottom lip quivered as I gently kissed her.

*

“You can trust me,” I whispered against her mouth.

*

“I want to,” she whispered back.

*

*

<– Chapter Five: Insecurities********************Chapter Seven: Number 24 –>

Chapter Five: Insecurities

Abigail

*

Our second date went just as well as the first.  We both enjoyed the movie and talked for over an hour at the restaurant after finishing our meals.  We spent the drive back to my apartment discussing the film and the possibility of a sequel.  When we reached my building, he immediately got out of the car to open my door for me.

*

“Thank you,” I said as he took my hand to help me out.  He walked me up the stairs; I loved the feeling of having him walk beside me.  It’s hard to describe, that feeling.  Almost like safety, but not quite.  More like possibility.  “I had fun tonight,” I said when we’d reached my door, pulling my keys out of my purse and putting them into the lock.

*

“Me too.  Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

*

“Tomorrow?  You haven’t had enough of me yet?”  He can’t be serious.

*

“Nope, and I have a great idea for something to do tomorrow.”

*

Did he hit his head during the accident?  He must be suffering from a brain injury. “Well tomorrow’s Sunday.  I usually do my grocery shopping for the week and clean my kitchen.”

*

“Seriously?  You’d rather clean and go to the grocery store than spend time with me?”

*

Hell no.  I’d rather go to Vegas and marry you with only Elvis as a witness. “That’s not what I meant.”

*

“Good, I’ll pick you up at three.”  He pecked me on the cheek, turned, and darted down the stairs.

*

“Okay,” I called after him, but he didn’t hear me.  My voice hadn’t gotten louder than a whisper.

*

Ben

*

Abigail was an enigma.  A complete mystery to me.

*

I pulled into her apartment complex at twenty til three on Sunday and took a spot in the front row.  Turning off the engine, my mind ran through our first four encounters at warp speed.  I couldn’t figure her out.

*

She acts like she’s into me, but when I try to make plans she hesitates.  Am I reading her wrong?  I don’t want to force her to keep seeing me, but I can’t just let her go either.  When she’s with me, really with me in the moment, we can talk forever.  She’s completely confident and sexy when we’re having a conversation about movies or books or our families.  But as soon as I try and show her I like her, she retreats into a cocoon and suddenly she’s, what?  Protecting herself from me?  I don’t know.

*

As I got out of my car and closed the door, I came to the conclusion that today would decide things.  If she didn’t like me, I wasn’t going to keep putting myself out there.  This wasn’t going to be a repeat of Rebecca.

*

“You’re early!” she exclaimed as she opened the door, wearing sweatpants and a white tank top.  Her thumb hitched back towards the clock on the wall.  Only 2:45?  I’d only wasted five minutes in the car over-thinking the situation?

*

“Well, my mother taught me that ten minutes early is actually five minutes late.  Punctuality is an important virtue to have.”  What the hell am I saying?  I’m such an idiot.

*

“Your mother should’ve clarified, for meetings, appointments, school- things like that, it’s great to be early.  But for a date!  Give a girl an extra ten minutes!”  She grabbed my arm and pulled me into the apartment.  I laughed out of relief; she wouldn’t be joking so early in the date if she weren’t interested, right?

*

“Your kitchen looks very clean and smells lemon fresh,” I teased, turning to face her.

*

“Oh, be quiet.  Here, sit down for five minutes and then I’ll be ready to go.”  She dashed into what I assumed was her bedroom before I could respond.  Instead of sitting down, I circled the living room, trying to discover more about her.

*

She liked Van Gogh, four prints of his hung above her couch.  Beside the TV stand, an enormous case stuffed to the gills displayed her collection of books.  Most were tattered, the bindings broken with pages spilling out.   More books littered the coffee table.  I finally sat on the couch, but only to get a better look at the picture frame on the end table.  Abigail as a little girl, holding out a flower to a silver-haired man.  Her dad, maybe?

*

“Okay, I’m ready.”  She stepped out of the room and smiled at me.  I swear my heart stopped beating for a second.  She looked stunning in a simple blue t-shirt, black leather jacket, and jeans, her cheeks glowed, and her lustrous brown hair bounced as she walked towards me

*

“You look great,” I breathed as I stood up.

*

“I’d look better if you hadn’t been so early.”

*

“I doubt that.”  She couldn’t look any better than this.

*

“Please, I’m a mess.  Let’s just go.”  She led the way out the door and down the stairs to the parking lot.  I opened the car door for her and silently got in the driver’s seat.  It didn’t make any sense.  Did she not see the same girl I saw?

*

“Why do you do that?” I asked.

*

“Do what?  What did I do?”

*

“Refuse to accept a compliment.”

*

“What are you talking about?  You haven’t said anything since you got in the car.”

*

“No, I mean back at your apartment.”

*

“Oh.  Well, I guess I thought you were just being nice.  I don’t know.  I mean, I don’t think I look great.”  She stared down at her hands in her lap and I felt guilty for bringing it up, but I couldn’t let her think like that.  I faced her once we arrived at our destination.

*

“Well, you do.  Don’t assume the rest of the world sees you the way you see yourself.  Maybe if you start believing compliments instead of dismissing them, you’ll start to see yourself the way others see you.”

*

Her eyes met mine, but she didn’t smile.  Her mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out.

*

One more attempt can’t hurt. “You look really nice today.”

*

“Thank you, so do you.”

*

“Thank you.”  I smiled and she finally did, too.  “See that wasn’t so hard.  Now, are you ready for something incredible?”

*

“Absolutely,” she laughed, “what?”

*

“This.”  I pointed straight ahead at the building in front of us.  She turned her head towards it, but then quickly back to me.

*

“And what is this?”

*

“We’ll have to go in to find out.”  I opened my door and got out to get hers, but she was too quick for me.

*

Abigail

*

He took my arm by the elbow to lead me inside.  As he pulled open the door, I heard the cling of a bell and stepping inside I saw a large, bright room filled with bookshelves.

*

“This is the best bookstore in the city.”  He continued guiding my arm and led me to the closest set of shelves.  “The owner is a book collector and she loves tracking down rare books.  She always tries to keep a collection of first and second edition copies of classic books on display.  I thought you’d like to see them.  Here, take a look.”  He pointed to a row of books behind a glass case.  I didn’t look immediately, instead I stared into his face.

*

“Thank you.  For bringing me here.”

*

“You’re welcome.  I thought you’d like it.  But, you’re missing the best part- look.”  He grasped my shoulders and spun me around so I was directly in front of the glass case.  The first title my eyes fell on was Pride and Prejudice.

*

“Did you say the owner collects first editions?’

*

“Yes, I did.”

*

“And this case is her collection of rare books?  Of first editions?”

*

“Well, it isn’t her whole collection, but basically, yes.”

*

“And that,” I pointed, “is that a first edition of Pride and Prejudice?”

*

“Yes it is,” a woman’s voice answered from behind me.  I turned around and a cheerful little woman of about forty stood there.  “Hello, I’m Nancy.  I own this store.  Are you an Austen fan?”

*

“You could say that.  Austen-obsessed is more like it.  Oh, sorry, I’m Abigail.”

*

She laughed, shook my hand, and gestured back towards the case.  “Well, then you’ll also be interested in the first editions I’ve collected of Sense and Sensibility, Emma, and Persuasion.  I’m still in negotiations with another dealer for Northanger Abbey and Mansfield Park.”

*

“I can’t even believe it.  I’ve always dreamed of owning a first edition of Pride and Prejudice, but I never honestly believed I’d see one.”

*

“Would you like to see it more closely?”

*

“Oh my God, yes!”

*

“Luckily, the volumes are in excellent condition, though still fragile, so you’ll have to be gentle.  And you can only see one at a time.  I’ll take the first over to one of the couches for you and you can sit and read for a little bit.  I’m leaving in about an hour, if you finish beforehand, Ben can come and find me.”

*

“Thank you so much!  I promise I’ll be extremely careful.”

*

“You’re welcome dear, I know you will.  From one Austen lover to another, I don’t like to keep these books locked up in a case.  She would’ve hated that.  She wanted her books to be read and loved by all.”

*

“Yes, she did.”

*

Nancy left us with Volume I at a plush couch in the center of the store.  A few other customers were quietly reading and seemed completely oblivious to the treasure in front of them.

*

“Ben, I can’t even find the words to tell you how much this means to me.”

*

“That’s pretty much what I was going for.  Here, sit and read.  I’m going to go and browse through the sports section.”

*

I did as he suggested, carefully running my fingers over the cover and gingerly opening the book to the title page.  I had to fight back the tears that came to my eyes.

*

An hour later, Ben’s hand on my shoulder, heavy and firm, roused me from my trance.

*

“Nancy’s about to leave for the day.  She needs to put the book back in its case.”

*

“Of course.”  Closing the book, I profusely thanked Nancy, then handed it to her.

*

“Don’t worry about it, dear.  I’m happy I could do this for you.  Ben told me how much you love to read and that makes you a kindred spirit.”  We followed her to the front of the store and she placed Pride and Prejudice into its case.

*

“I’ll let you know when I have the whole set,” she said to Ben as she closed and locked the glass door.

*

“I’m sure we’ll be back before then,” he replied.

*

“Absolutely,” I agreed.  He beamed at me.

*

“It was lovely to meet you, dear.”  Nancy squeezed my hand, turned, and walked away from us.

*

“Do you want to look around?” Ben asked once she was out of sight.

*

“Not today, but we’ll come back soon.”

*

He smiled again and we made our way to the exit.  Our hands brushed each other’s briefly and sent a shock through me- literally.  He jumped, too.  The store’s carpet must have caused static electricity.  Is the universe trying to tell me something? I folded my arms across my chest so we wouldn’t accidentally shock each other again, but he just laughed at me.

*

“Don’t be silly,” he said, stopping and facing me.  He unfolded my arms and firmly took my hands in his.  We stood still for a minute, both of us looking down at our intertwined fingers.  He dropped them after another minute and we were walking side-by-side again.  This time when our fingers brushed together, there was no spark, but his hand closed around mine.  I couldn’t believe this beautiful man wanted to hold my hand.

*

We walked this way out to the car.  He followed me to the passenger side, but didn’t unlock and open the door.   Instead, he leaned towards me and I thought he was going to kiss my cheek like he had before, but he didn’t.  He hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting to mine, his hand reaching up to my cheek, and then kissed me.

*

His lips were soft and gentle.  They parted and his tongue gently traced the opening of my mouth.  I let him in, shocked at how good it felt.   He pulled his mouth closed, covering my bottom lip, and shifted to my upper one, each move deliberate and precise.  After a few more seconds of this ecstasy, I opened my eyes and looked into his face.  Oh god, what are you doing to me?

*

I’d kissed guys before.  Guys had kissed me before.  But never like that.  Ben’s kiss: Wow.  Where’d he learn to kiss like that?  Completely perfect, from the softness of his lips, to his minty fresh breath, to the way he delicately held my cheek.  He knew exactly what to do.

*

He gazed into my eyes as I pondered how it was possible that this gorgeous man might actually like me.  He seemed too good to be true.

*

*

<– Chapter Four: Ah, the First Date?********************Chapter Six: Knowledge –>

Chapter Four: Ah, the First Date?

Abigail

*

I made it clear to Ben we were not going on a date.  Yet as I dressed to meet him, I realized what a huge mistake I’d made.  Sure, he probably wouldn’t like me.  Sure, he probably would never ask me out again.  But there was something about him.  I wanted the experience of a date with him.  How would he act?  Would he hold open doors, pull out chairs?  He seemed like that kind of guy.

*

The first two outfits I tried on looked horrible.  I stripped down and threw my blouse on the pile of clothes forming on my bed.  I hated myself for acting so stupid.  I told him it wasn’t a date- what did it matter what I looked like?  I pulled my lavender sweater and my black pencil skirt out of the closest and refused to look at myself in the mirror after putting them on.  Grabbing my favorite black Mary Jane heels and making my way to the door, I caught my reflection in the window and the outfit didn’t look bad.  Good thing, because if I hadn’t left then, I would’ve been late.

*

On the drive I tried to calm my nerves by singing along loudly to the radio.  Singing always had a soothing effect on me.  I didn’t even know why I was so nervous.  Okay, maybe I did.  Those eyes, that smile, the successful business.  This guy was completely out of my league, but I still wanted him to like me.

*

He greeted me with a grin and a wave as I pulled up to the restaurant.  Leaning against his car, wearing black slacks and a light blue button down that played up the color of his eyes, he looked even better than he had at Starbucks, if that was possible.  His light brown hair styled to give that “just tousled” look and his smooth shaven cheeks told me he’d taken just as much consideration getting ready as I had.  I parked beside him and slyly, I hope, checked my reflection in the mirror to make sure my hair and makeup looked okay before getting out of the car.

*

“Good evening, Abigail.  You look nice.”

*

Great, I’ll add polite to the never-ending list of his good qualities. “Oh, um, well… you look great.  How are you?” As he stepped towards me, the wind picked up and his scent drifted into my nostrils.   Mmmm, mint, grass, fresh baked sugar cookies.  Okay that’s a little weird, but it still smells good. I breathed in heavily, trying to memorize the smell by holding it in my lungs as long as possible.

*

“I’m good.  Hungry, though.” He smiled again.

*

“Yeah, me too.  Let’s eat.”  I was right about one thing: he did open the door for me as we walked into the restaurant.  And the way he lightly placed his hand on the small of my back as the hostess showed us to our table gave me hope he didn’t take me seriously the day before when I said it wasn’t a date.

*

The restaurant was dimly lit with candles and white roses on every table.  Dark red tablecloths and black napkins gave the room a warm and charming aspect.  Our waitress appeared right after the hostess seated us; I ordered a glass of white wine and he ordered a glass of red.

*

“This is a nice restaurant,” I started as soon as she left, “I’ve never been here before, though.  Is the food as good as the atmosphere?”

*

“I like it.  So I have a random question for you.”

*

“Okay, shoot.”

*

“What book is it today?”

*

“Huh?”

*

He grinned at my puzzled expression and leaned forward in his seat.  “The day of the accident, I noticed a pile of books in the backseat of your car.”

*

“Yeah…”

*

“And yesterday, at Starbucks, you were sitting by yourself in the corner, reading this horrendously large book.”

*

“I like to read.” Duh. So maybe he isn’t as smart as I assumed.

*

“So, my original question was, what book is it today?”

*

“You’re just assuming I brought a book with me on our date?”

*

“So this is a date now, is it?”  A smile played on his lips, but he held back, producing the most adorable look I’d seen on his face so far.

*

“I’m sorry, you’re right, this isn’t a date.”  My cheeks flushed and I snatched up the menu.  I opened it in front of my face and scanned through the entrées.  He reached over and pushed it down with his index finger.

*

“I never said it wasn’t a date.  You did when you agreed to come.”  When he released his smile, it made me blush even deeper.

*

“Oh, right.  Well, I think I’m going to have the chicken cordon bleu. How about you?” I prayed he would drop the subject.

*

“I’m going to have the sirloin, it’s the best in the city.  But, don’t change the subject.  What book did you bring?”

*

It took me by surprise.  I was still laughing when I realized he honestly wanted to know the answer to the question.  I reached into my purse, pulled out my tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice, and laid it on the table.

*

“Ah, a classic.”  He chuckled and picked the book up.  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’re a Jane Austen fan.”

*

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

*

“Nothing bad.  She seems to be the only author every woman I’ve ever met has read.  My sister loves her.”

*

“Well, she was a brilliant writer.  She related to women during her time and women still relate to her today.”

*

“Why do you relate to her?”

*

“I could answer that question, but I don’t think we’ve known each other long enough for you to not be freaked out by the answer.”  This time he was the one taken by surprise.  He laughed and his eyes danced in the candlelight.

*

“How long do I have to know you in order to not be freaked out?  Two dates?  Ten dates?”

*

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll let you know when I do.”

*

“I could be wrong, but I think you just acknowledged this is a date.”

*

“I guess it is.”  We were both smiling now.

*

The waitress came back with our drinks.  As she placed mine in front of me, she noticed my book.

*

“I love Pride and Prejudice!” she gushed, “Jane Austen’s my favorite author!”

*

“I told you so.”  He winked, taking a sip of wine.  I felt myself blushing once again as I slid the book off the table and back into my purse.  The waitress looked from him to me, confusion spread across her face.

*

“Are you ready to order?”

*

Talk about a perfect date.  Ben charmed me with witty conversation, hilarious jokes, and delicious food.  The way he talked about his sister and his niece and nephew was adorable.  A family guy- so cute.  And whenever I felt embarrassed or unsure, his smile gave me confidence.  He walked me to my car after dinner and we stood talking for another twenty minutes.

*

“Would you like to do this again, sometime?  And we can call it a date from the start?” he asked after we said goodbye for the tenth time.

*

Oh my god. “Yes, I’d like that.”

*

“How about this weekend?  Saturday night?”

*

Oh my god. “Saturday sounds good, I don’t have any plans.  Whaddya wanna do?”

*

“How about a classic- dinner and a movie?”

*

Oh. My. God.  “Sure, I haven’t been to the movies in months.  What time?”

*

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

*

OH MY GOD! “Okay.  I’ll see you then.”

*

“Goodnight Abigail.”  He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, then stepped back as I got into my car and closed the door.  He stood in place while I reversed and pulled out of the parking lot.  Through my mirror I could see him slowly walking backwards to his car, hands in his pockets, eyes glued to my taillights.

*

My mind raced and soared as I drove home. I was officially a cliché.  The first thing I learned in my college writing classes was to avoid clichés at all costs, but the butterflies in my stomach and the weakness in my knees were real.  So real.  That’s how clichés are started, after all.  I kinda liked the thought that I was experiencing the same giddiness as millions of love-struck women before me.  Okay, love-struck is cliché too.  And not completely accurate.  I liked the guy, but I barely knew him!

*

Apparently he liked me, too.  He liked me enough to ask for a second date, at least.  I could still feel his hot breath on my cheek where his soft lips brushed against my skin.  Unconsciously, my fingers grazed the spot.

*

I couldn’t stop thinking about him.  His grey-blue eyes laughing in the candlelight, his brilliant smile. Everything we talked about blurred together.  I could only remember the way he looked at me, like I was the most beautiful woman in the world.

*

This is crazy.  How could a guy like that possibly want a girl like me?

*

Ben

*

Damn it.  Why didn’t I just go for the kiss?  A kiss on the cheek?  Really, Ben?  That’s the best you’ve got? As I watched her drive away, I replayed the evening in my head.  The way her green eyes changed color in the dim light.  Her smooth, airy laugh.  The brilliance of every word she said.  And the cherry on top of the sundae, I stored her phone number and email in my Blackberry and secured a second date.

*

When her car turned the corner and disappeared from sight, I unlocked mine and slid into the driver’s seat.  Scrolling through the contacts on my phone, I found Matt’s number, and hit ‘Send.’

*

“Hey man, what’s up?” he answered after three rings.

*

“Just calling to say I can’t do dinner on Saturday.”  I turned on my lights and fastened my seat belt.

*

“Why not?”

*

“I have a date.”

*

“Oh really?  I thought you were celibate.”

*

Ugh, I hate him sometimes. “Celibate’s the wrong word.  I was on a hiatus.”

*

“A hiatus from sex?”  He laughed as if taking a break from sex was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard of.

*

“From women.”  Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I wished I’d called Trish instead.

*

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

*

I groaned, “Come on, man.  Don’t give me a hard time.  I met a really cool girl.”

*

“A really cool girl?  High praise coming from you.”

*

“Can you just tell Trish I can’t make it and I’m sorry?”   I put the keys in the ignition and started the engine.  Pulling out of the parking lot, I waited for Matt’s next round of mockery.

*

“Yeah, although I’m sure she’ll forgive you for blowing us off since there’s the possibility of you getting some.”

*

“It’s just a second date, I don’t know about getting any.  But you don’t need to worry about that, my sex life is officially none of your business.”

*

“Sorry, man.  Just trying to help you laugh at yourself a little.  You’ve been moping around the past six months since that bitch, but now, well, you sound different.”

*

“Um, okay.  I’ll see you at softball Saturday morning.”  Different?  What the hell does that mean?

*

“You sure you want to play on Saturday?  You want to make sure you have plenty of time to get ready for your date.”

*

“Shut up.”  I clicked ‘End.’  Was Matt right?  Had I been moping around?  Probably.  Rebecca chewed me up and spat me out like a tough piece of steak.  Tonight was the first date I’d been on since we broke up.  Am I on the rebound? Matt’s comments rattled the memory in me I’d been trying to repress for months.

*

“What do you want from me, Ben?  You acted like I was the plague.  I practically had to force you to sleep with me.  I have needs.  Juan has been taking care of those needs.”  Rebecca folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes at me.

*

I nearly exploded, “HAS BEEN?  You mean this has been going on for a while?”

*

“Yes, for a couple of months.”

*

“I can’t believe this Rebecca.  I tried to show you respect.  I wanted us to have an emotional connection.  I thought I loved you.”

*

“But you didn’t.  And I didn’t love you either.  And I didn’t want an emotional connection.  I wanted a good, hard, long fuck.  So I went and found someone able to give that to me.”

*

She didn’t react to the red anger blazing off my cheeks.  She didn’t give a damn that she hurt me.

*

“So, the past six months have meant nothing to you?”

*

“Not nothing.  We had fun.  You’re a sweet nice guy.  But did you honestly think this was going to last forever?”

*

As she asked the question, I realized my answer was different than I’d assumed.  No, I never expected to be with Rebecca forever.  She wasn’t the one.  I wanted a woman I could love with fervent passion.  Rebecca only wanted passion that existed in the bedroom.  She didn’t want to be romanced.  She didn’t want to get married, to have a family. Somehow I’d become the girl in the relationship.

*

I left without saying another word.  She didn’t try and stop me.

*

A loud blast from a car horn stirred me from the memory and I swerved just in time.  Another accident was the last thing I needed.  I tried to pay better attention but my thoughts seemed determined to wander. As soon as I stopped focusing on Rebecca’s coldness, Abigail’s warmth came into the foreground.  If I was on the rebound, I liked the idea of her catching me.

*

*

<– Chapter Three: Twenty Questions********************Chapter Five: Insecurities –>

Chapter Three: Twenty Questions

Abigail

*

I thought for a few days maybe the accident was an omen.  A sign that things in my life were going to change.  I kept replaying the moment when Ben leaned into my car and our eyes met.  His were concerned, scared even, but so beautiful I gasped.  All the chaos around me disappeared as I looked into his powerful gaze.  As blue as the Atlantic Ocean and as gray as the storm clouds overhead, both at once, it penetrated me.  I tried to break contact, wanted to break contact, but my heart wouldn’t let me. Then he looked away.

*

I felt a spark with him and that sort of thing never happened to me.  I should have known, though- because nothing good happens on my birthday- that it wasn’t real and a month later I’d find myself immersed in the same old boring routine.

*

6:30 AM: Alarm.  UGH!  Why did God create a 6:30 AM?  Snooze, please.

6:45 AM: Shower.

8:30 AM: Arrive at Work.  Hello coworker, how was your evening, blah blah blah.  Oh me?  I’m doing great today, thank you for asking.  blah blah blah.

10:00 AM: Coffee Break.  Oh, thank you God for coffee.

1:00 PM: Lunch.  Hello ham and cheese sandwich on white bread!

4:30 PM: Leave Work.  The most exciting part of the day.

4:45 PM: Coffee, Library, or Errands. I know what you’re thinking, woohoo, slow down party animal.

6:30 PM: Arrive at Home.

7:00 PM: Dinner. Give me something frozen and a microwave, please.

11:00 PM: Bed.  Well, sometimes I stay up and watch Jon Stewart, but let’s not split hairs.

*

I knew my lack of an exciting social life was mostly my own fault for not putting myself out there, but it’s hard.  I’ve never been outgoing and unfortunately my financial situation didn’t really allow for a lot of club and bar hopping.

*

It was a Wednesday afternoon, but it could’ve been any other day of the week.  I left work at 4:30, as usual, and headed for Starbucks.  A new girl working the cash register and taking orders didn’t know what the “Abigail Special” was, so I just got a simple mocha and headed for my favorite armchair.

*

The store was quiet, only a few other people were sitting at tables sipping their coffee.  A young couple sat in the furthest corner away from me holding hands and whispering quietly to each other.  I watched them for a minute and wondered what their story was.  How had they met?  Were they in love?  Not that it mattered, but they looked happy.  So unlike myself.  I focused on my book and my coffee and the next time I looked up, the couple was gone.

*

I sat reading and sipping for another fifteen minutes, when a voice coming from the front of the shop caused me to look up.  A young man talking on a cell phone and searching through a stack of newspapers near the exit was the source of my confusion.  Though his voice sounded familiar, I didn’t recognize the back of his head, so I returned to my book.

*

A few minutes later, after selecting a paper and ordering a drink, he took the armchair opposite mine and began reading.  I glanced at him, but he looked down and I couldn’t see much of his face.  I decided he must sound like someone from work and that’s why his voice sparked my attention.

*

I turned my concentration back to my book and for another ten or fifteen minutes read peacefully while the after-work crowd wandered in and out of the store.  A loud ringing startled me out of my trance and the young man with the newspaper pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

*

“Ben Harris,” he answered.  Dizziness engulfed me.  I recognized the name and the voice at the same moment.  How did I not recognize it before?  Oh right, because I was daydreaming about his face, not his voice. I looked up quickly to confirm and he noticed the sudden movement.  With his phone still at his ear, our eyes met.  The blue stare pierced into me: definitely the same guy.  I could tell he recognized me too.  Goose bumps formed on my arms and I rubbed them fervently, trying to kick-start my blood flow.

*

He finished his call and we sat looking at each other for what felt like an eternity, but must have only been a few seconds.  I wanted to speak, to acknowledge everything I felt, all the gratitude built up inside me since the accident, but my voice seemed temporarily disabled.

*

Maybe things were looking up.

*

Ben

*

In my peripheral vision I saw a flash of dark hair bolt up and turned towards it.  My eyes locked onto forests of spring green.  Holy Shit. I almost dropped the phone.  It was HER.  Abigail.  As much as I’d been trying NOT to think about her, there she was, right in front of me, and I couldn’t have been happier to see her.

*

Finishing my call as quickly as possible, I closed my phone and stuffed it in my pocket, refocusing on her pretty face, studying the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, and noticing a cluster of tiny moles on her right cheek at the jaw line- the cute kind, Cindy Crawford-esque.  I remembered thinking how gorgeous I found her on the day of the accident, but seeing her there was different.  I realized she wasn’t even my normal type- I usually am attracted to athletic girls: tall, toned, no makeup, hair in a ponytail- but Abigail took my breath away with her more elegant simplicity.  She looked put-together, like she cared what she looked like, but only to the extent that she be taken seriously, and she didn’t flaunt her good looks- no eye batting or hair flipping or repositioning in the chair to show off her best angle.  I had a feeling then that she had no idea just how attractive she was.

*

Stop staring and say something to her! “Abigail.”  That’s it?  That’s the best you’ve got?  Her name? Keep talking. “I didn’t realize… you look so different.  You’re so dry!”  Okay, maybe I should practice talking in a mirror before I have actual interactions with other people.

*

She laughed and folded her hands in her lap.  She didn’t speak for a few seconds, just looked at me, like she was trying to figure out how she knew me.  “You look different, too.  Good, different, though.”

*

“Really?  Oh, well, thanks, I guess.  You look good, too.  I mean good different.  Not that you didn’t look good when we met before.  Or now.  You looked good then and now.  Sorry, I’m not usually such an idiot.”  The words just tumbled out of my mouth, I couldn’t stop them.  And then I realized I was still staring and averted my eyes back to my paper.  What the hell is wrong with me?  I’m never such a dork around hot girls.  Luckily, she laughed again and after my embarrassment subsided, she asked about my car and I reciprocated.  I managed to pull myself together enough to carry on a conversation, but I don’t really remember the beginning of it.  At least not the actual dialogue.

*

The way her words just seemed to flow out of her mouth, the way her breath caught slightly when she laughed, she was just adorable.  And intelligent.  And funny. I was hypnotized.  Everything she said made me want more.  And then she THANKED ME!  Thanked me for helping her!  I hit her and she thanked me!  Surely there aren’t such generous spirited persons in the world.

*

“Don’t even think about it.  What else could I do?  I felt so terrible, causing your car to spin out of control like that.  You can’t even imagine how terrified I was watching it and praying that you weren’t hurt and didn’t cause anyone else to get hurt.  I wish I hadn’t been driving so close to you, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.”  As I finished speaking she leaned towards me and took my hand.  She applied light pressure and forced me to look her in the eye.

*

“You have nothing to feel guilty about.  Honestly, I know it wasn’t your fault, and I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate you coming to check on me and waiting for me at the hospital.  There aren’t many people who would have done that.”  The gentleness in her tone and words touched my heart.  She smiled and I couldn’t take her gratitude.  I did feel guilty, but more because I was thankful for the accident.  Thankful it gave me the opportunity to meet her. My cheeks burned with embarrassment.  I broke our eye contact and stared at the hardwood floor, trying to think of something else to say. But she spoke before I could.

*

“Was that a business call earlier?”

*

“Huh?  Oh, just now?  Yeah.  A potential investor wants to come down and take a look at my business.”

*

“You own your own business?”

*

“Yeah.”

*

“That’s so cool.  What kind of business is it?”

*

“It’s kinda boring, I mean, boring for a girl.”

*

“Hey!  You don’t know, I could be the least girlie girl you’ve ever met.  I don’t even like the color pink.”

*

I laughed, I couldn’t help myself.  She was so freaking cute.  “Oh really?  Well, are you into sports?”

*

Her face broke out in a widespread blush as she answered, “Um, no.”

*

“See, I told you!”

*

“Just because I’m not into sports doesn’t mean I won’t find your business interesting!”

*

“Well, I guess not.  Okay, I own Inner City Sports.  Have you heard of it?”

*

“I think so.  I think my brother-in-law plays golf there.  It has all kinds of athletic fields, right?  Like tennis courts and basketball courts and a baseball field.”

*

“Exactly.  It’s right across the street, actually.”

*

“Really?  Hmm, I wonder why I’ve never run into you before now.  I’m in here all the time.”  She took a sip of her coffee and closed the book on her lap.

*

I wanted to smack my head against the fireplace for not being a coffee drinker.  You mean I could have met you months ago?  Damn it.

*

She continued before I could answer, “I don’t know why you think I wouldn’t be interested in that, it’s incredibly interesting.  Tell me more.”

*

I told her about all the little ins and outs of ICS and about how I was lucky enough to get the start-up money from my trust fund and some very brave investors.  She kept her eyes and attention focused on me the entire time.  I’d never met a non-sports nut who wanted to hear so much about the complex before, but she appeared genuinely interested.  She made me want to talk to her.  But I wanted her to talk, too.

*

“Okay, so now I’ve told you about my business, what about you?  What do you do?”

*

For the first time since we started talking, she looked away from me.  She gazed intently at her fingernails and didn’t answer for a couple of minutes.

*

“Abigail?”

*

“Sorry.  It’s just my job isn’t nearly as exciting as yours.  It’s pretty boring, actually.”

*

“I’m sure it’s not.”

*

“Oh yeah it is.  I work in a mailroom.”

*

“It can’t be that bad.”

*

She shrugged and continued to study her nails.  “It’s not forever.”

*

“Well then, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

*

She laughed again and met my eye.  God, she had a great laugh.  “I think I’m already grown up.”

*

“You can’t be too grown up.  You’re what, twenty-two?  Twenty-three?”

*

“Twenty-five, actually.  Last month.”  She grimaced; I could tell her age was not a favorite subject.  I couldn’t understand why, though.  She looked fantastic and who really wanted to go back to their early twenties or teen years?  Not me.

*

“And you?” she asked.

*

“Oh, I’m twenty-seven.”

*

“And you already own your own business?  I’m even more impressed.”

*

“Well, like I said, I was lucky to have the start-up money pretty quickly.  But don’t change the subject.  You said the mailroom is temporary, what do you really want?”

*

“To write.  I have a journalism degree and I work at Intuition magazine right now.  I’m constantly writing articles and turning them in to the editor, but she hasn’t been interested yet.”

*

“She will be one day.”

*

“Yeah, sure.”  Her smile dissolved and she stared at the huge book in her lap.  It was massive.  Had she been reading it when I sat down across from her?  Okay, I made a mental note, age and job are touchy subjects.  Get her laughing again.

*

“Favorite movie?”

*

“Oh, goodness, are we going to play twenty questions?”  She didn’t laugh, but the smile returned.

*

“Yes.  So, question number one: what’s your favorite movie?”

*

“Um, that’s a hard one.  You’re going to make fun of me.”

*

“I won’t, I promise.  Scout’s honor.”  I crossed my hand over my heart and made my face as serious as I could.

*

She laughed!  “Were you a scout?”

*

“No, actually I wasn’t.”

*

“So you can’t be trusted at all, can you?”

*

“No, I guess not!”

*

She laughed again!  “Okay, my favorite movie is When Harry Met Sally.”

*

“I’ve never seen it.  Why would I laugh at that?”

*

“You’ve NEVER seen When Harry Met Sally?  Oh my God, Ben!  You have to see it.”

*

“Why?  What’s it about?”

*

“Harry and Sally.  And friendship.  And falling in love.”  She blushed and turned her eyes away again.  Damn, I really wish she’d stop doing that.  Although she’s absolutely gorgeous when she blushes.

*

“Oh.  So a chick flick?”

*

“Yeah, I guess.  That’s why I thought you’d laugh.  But honestly, it’s not like chick flicks they make nowadays.  It’s smart and funny and incredibly insightful about relationships.  At least, I think it is.”

*

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to see it someday.”  Preferably with you.

*

“Yeah.  So what’s your favorite movie?”

*

“Office Space,” I answered immediately.

*

“That movie is hilarious!  The stapler guy is my favorite.”

*

“Mine too!  I didn’t think you’d know it.”

*

“Why not?”

*

“I don’t know, most girls I know aren’t into it.”

*

“Really?  My sisters and I love it.  In fact, Anna’s the one who insisted I watch it.”

*

Oh, now we’re getting somewhere, her family seems like a good subject. “Sisters?  How many do you have?”

*

“Two.  And a brother.”

*

“Wow, four kids.  I feel bad for your parents.”

*

“Don’t.  They loved having a noisy house when we were growing up.  I’m very blessed.”

*

“I’ll bet.  I just have one older sister.  I always wanted a brother though.  Are your sisters and brother older or younger?”

*

“My sisters are both older, my brother is younger.”

*

“Ah, so you’re a middle child?”

*

“Yeah.  Why, is that a bad thing?”

*

“No, not at all.  It just makes me think of the Brady Bunch.”

*

“Oh, you mean the whole Jan, and Marcia, Marcia, Marcia, thing?”

*

“Yeah.”

*

“Yeah, I guess there’s a little of that.”  She grew silent.

*

Way to go, Ben.  Now you’ve basically insulted her and told her she’s probably jealous of her siblings.  What the hell were you thinking?  She doesn’t seem like that at all.  Stupid!  Talk about something else.

*

“Okay, question number two…”

*

“Wait, don’t how many siblings I have and if I’m a middle child count as questions two and three?”

*

I laughed and breathed a sigh of relief, Whew, she’s not holding my stupidity against me.  “Okay, fine, question four: last concert you went to?”

*

“Hmmm, I’ll have to think about that for a second.  It’s been a long time since I went to a concert.  Oh wait!  I took my brother to see Third Eye Blind for his birthday last year.”

*

“Really?  I didn’t know that band was still together.”

*

She shrugged her shoulders, “I guess they were when we saw them.  Derek loves them.  Your turn.”

*

“My friend, Matt, and I went to see The All-American Rejects a couple of months ago.”

*

“Oh, I like them.  Their second album is really good.”

*

“The second one?  No, the first one’s the best.”

*

“I never like freshman albums as much.  I always think the sophomore attempt is better.”

*

“That’s crazy!  The freshman album is always better!”  We both grinned.  It was so refreshing to have an easy conversation with a woman.  My phone rang again, interrupting our perfect flow.  I shouldn’t have answered, but I did.

*

Abigail

*

When he hung up, he looked at me and started to speak, but then stopped himself.

*

“I didn’t realize how late it was,” I ventured, figuring he was looking for a way out of the conversation.  Man, he’s probably been looking for a way out forever now.  Just make it easy for him.

*

“Oh, yeah, it’s almost dinner time.”

*

“You probably have somewhere to go, someone to meet?”

*

“No, actually, I don’t.  But if you have somewhere to go…” He stopped himself again.

*

“I don’t have any particular plans, but I should probably get going.”

*

“Of course.”

*

I put my books into my bag and pulled my jacket on.  “This was fun, I’m glad I ran into you.”

*

“Yeah, I’m glad too.  Hey, would you like to run into me again sometime?  Dinner maybe?”

*

“Dinner?  Sure.  I’m free tomorrow night to grab a bite.”  Holy crap, what am I saying?! I tried to look away to hide the fire burning on my face, but he held me in his gaze.

*

“Really?” His eyes brightened and he flashed perfect white teeth at me.  “Okay, that’s great.  Should I pick you up at your apartment?”

*

“Oh, you don’t have to pick me up- that’d be weird.  It would feel like a date or something.  No, I can meet you somewhere.”  He looked away for a moment and hesitated.  And then I realized why.  Shit. “Ben, I’m so sorry.  Were you asking me on a date?”

*

“No, it’s cool.  Just a friendly dinner.  How about that new place on South Street?  7:00?”

*

“7:00 it is.”  We shook hands quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

*

“Bye, Abigail.”  His hand withdrew and he used it to ruffle his hair up.  I nearly tripped as I stepped back to leave.  He held back laughter, but I could see the corners of his mouth twitching.

*

“Bye.”  If my cheeks were on fire before, the blaze now spread down my neck and over my collarbone and chest.  I put my purse on my shoulder and smiled at him as I walked towards the door.

*

I got into my car, thinking about what an idiot I was.  A handsome, chivalrous man showed interest in me- actually asked me out on a date- and I didn’t even realize it.  And I liked him.  He was nice, he seemed interesting, and I gave him the idea it would be weird to date him.  Though part of me DID think it was weird; we only met because his car crashed into mine, so I was glad I kept it casual.

*

But another part of me wanted to walk back inside and tell him I would love it if he’d pick me up for our date.  I don’t know why I let the situation cause me such mental anguish.  We would have dinner as friends and he would be thankful I made the distinction once he realized how boring and uninteresting I actually was.  A slightly comforting thought.  I would be spared the sting of rejection, which would certainly come from him if it were a date.  I enjoyed his company; maybe we would be friends.  Yeah, he’d be a friend.  A friend with sparkling blue eyes…

*

I reached this conclusion just as I arrived home and stopped overanalyzing the situation long enough to make myself dinner.  I only pictured his gorgeous eyes once or twice before calling it an evening and heading to bed.  Okay, it may have been three times, but I wasn’t really keeping track.

*

*

<– Chapter Two: An Accident********************Chapter Four: Ah, The First Date? –>

Chapter Two: An Accident

Ben

*

“Uncle Ben!  Uncle Ben!” Joey came running towards me, slipping on the wet pavement and falling at my feet.

*

“Hey, buddy, careful!”

*

“Where’s Mommy?”  He picked himself up unscathed and pressed his body against my legs, finding shelter from the thunder and rain under the massive umbrella in my right hand.

*

“She’s at home with your sister.”

*

“Why?”

*

I don’t usually pick up my nephew from school, only on the rare occasion my sister had a photo shoot or client meeting and her husband, Ike, had a surgery scheduled, but that day I’d gotten off work early and knew the rain would make it difficult for Tracey to get out of the house. “Because I thought we needed some Uncle Ben and Joey time.  Whaddya say?”

*

“Ice Cream?”

*

“Sure thing, buddy, let’s go.”  I took him to the closest restaurant and ordered a hot fudge sundae large enough for us to share.  He ate most of it, or most of it ate him, I’m not sure.  When the bowl was empty, his shirt and face were covered with sticky, sugary goo.  He squirmed and giggled anytime I got close with a wet napkin to wipe him off and the waitress laughed every time she came by to check on us and found him even messier than the time before.

*

I tried to prolong the outing as long as I could, hoping the rain would lighten before we got back on the road, but when the storm grew worse, it seemed like time to return him to his parents.

*

“Thanks Ben.  I was not looking forward to taking Hannah out in this,” Tracey greeted me, umbrella in hand, as I got out of my car and moved to the back seat to unbuckle a sleeping Joey.

*

“Oh yeah, no problem.  I remember the last time I tried to drive with her in the car while it was raining.  The doctor was surprised how quickly I regained my hearing.”

*

She laughed. “Yeah, the screaming isn’t nearly as deafening when she’s in the house, covering her head with a blanket to block out the scariness.”  She reached with one arm for Joey and I handed him over the best I could, soaking all three of us in the process by knocking the umbrella out of Tracey’s hand.  I picked it up and held it over them to walk inside the house.  Tracey grimaced as she looked at Joey’s ice-cream smeared face.  “Have you ever heard of a napkin, Ben?”

*

“Hey,” I put up my hands in protest, “I tried to clean him off, but he wouldn’t let me.  I’d say he’s probably as stubborn as his mother.”

*

“Shut up, jerk.”

*

“Language, language, Trace.  What kind of example are you setting for your children?”

*

“Get out of my house!”  She grabbed the umbrella and shoved me out the door with it, but was laughing as I raced down the stairs and headed for my car.  “Thanks, Bro!” she called as I unlocked the door and slid my soaked body into the driver’s seat.

*

The highway was a mess.  The rain fell so thickly it was difficult to see and none of the vehicles around me were taking any chances with speed.  My frustration built slowly as I stared at the back of a red pickup truck for at least twenty minutes.  Finally, a lane opened and I maneuvered my car behind a blue Nissan.  It wasn’t going any faster than the pickup, but at least it was something new to look at.

*

I took my eyes off the road for just a second to adjust the heat when my car lurched forward.  Automatically, I gripped the wheel with both hands and slammed my foot on the brake, but still I propelled forward, the taillights of the Nissan coming closer and closer until I knew there was nothing I could do to stop from plowing into it.  Instinctively, I relaxed my foot and shrunk back in my seat, preparing for impact.

*

“No!” the throaty growl escaped me as I helplessly watched the Nissan skid on puddles of water drenching the road. The car spun four or five times but miraculously missed every other vehicle around it.  Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw some jackass gunning down the open lane beside me.

*

Do you not see what’s happening! Before I could yell out, the Mazda smashed into the Nissan, sending it into the guardrail and ultimately stopping its frenzied spinning.

*

I threw open my door and jumped out, not thinking about the cars still moving down the road.  Adrenaline pumped through my veins and my only thoughts consisted of I hope they’re okay, I hope they’re okay.  Please be okay.

*

A seven-foot beast of a man got out of the jeep implanted in the tail end of my car.  “Hey dude, you alright?” he asked.

*

“Are you kidding me?  Call 911!” I scowled at him, running to the Nissan.

*

Water flew all around me, making it difficult to see inside the car as I tapped on the glass of the driver’s side window.  “Are you okay?  Are you hurt?” I cried out, praying there were no injuries, hoping for no passengers in the front seat.  The impact of the Mazda would have killed someone sitting there.

*

The door creaked open and a petite young woman started to move her legs to get out, keeping her hands locked firmly on the steering wheel.

*

“Stay in your car,” I placed a hand on her shoulder, “the paramedics will be here soon.  If you’re injured you shouldn’t move.”  Yeah, I read that somewhere.

*

She slumped back into her seat as if she didn’t have even the smallest bit of strength to resist me.  “I think I’m okay.  My neck hurts, but that’s it.”  Her teeth chattered, making her voice break.

*

“You’re shaking, can I get you a blanket, or a jacket?”  There was something about the way dark, wet strands of hair fell across her forehead that caused my heart to beat faster.

*

“I’m not cold,” she said; the chattering ceased.

*

I stood there, unsure what to do.  I felt responsible for this and strangely, for her.

*

“What happened?” she asked after a few minutes, removing her hands from the steering wheel and wriggling them.  I smiled at the daintiness of her tiny fingers, but shook my head to try and keep focus.

*

“This big guy in a jeep rear-ended me.  I tried to use my brakes, but they were wet, and I couldn’t stop.  I hit you and you started flying all over the road, then this little Mazda came speeding down the lane and crashed into you and propelled you into the guard rail.”

*

“Is everyone okay?”

*

Shit, I don’t know.  Well, I’m fine, that beast behind me was fine, and Mazda guy is out of his car, so he must be all right, too. “It looks like it.”

*

“How did you see all that?  Everything happened so fast, it’s kinda fuzzy for me.”

*

Oh God… “Did you hit your head?  You could have a concussion.”  I leaned down, looking her straight in the eye.  Wow. She had the most gorgeous green eyes I’d ever seen and my stomach literally did a flip as the overhead light in her car hit them and sent a twinkle my way.

*

“No, my head feels fine.  I think I’m in shock.”

*

I leaned even closer towards the sound of her voice and her eyes shifted so she was looking into mine as well.  Fireworks exploded in my head.  I was connected to this girl somehow.  The pain shining out of those gorgeous green eyes struck me in the heart like an arrow and a strange urge to make her laugh filled me.

*

Sirens broke through my stream of consciousness and I looked to them, breaking myself out of the trance her eyes pulled me into, but her voice threatened to pull me back, “Tell them to check the other cars first, I’m fine.”

*

I wanted to protest.  Her car had the most damage; I wanted to insist they look her over first.  But I didn’t.  I didn’t really seem to be in control of my actions as I walked away from her and headed back to my car.

*

Two police cars followed the ambulance and after the EMT’s checked me over I gave my statement to the cops and collected insurance information from the other drivers, trying to keep my hands and mind busy so I wouldn’t think about her.

*

What was it about the girl in the Nissan?  Every time my brain paused from the task at hand it jumped right back to the moment our eyes locked together.  She was young and pretty, for sure, but the pounding in my heart wasn’t lust.  I’m a guy, I know lust.  It was something more.  You’re ridiculous.  You know nothing about her.  You don’t even know her name.

*

I watched as the paramedics lifted her out of her car and onto a stretcher, then wheeled her to the ambulance.  My heart constricted inside my chest, like a giant hand was squeezing it, fingers gripping, opening and closing; sucking the life out of me.  The guilt was unbearable.  She said she was fine, but they were taking her away in an ambulance.

*

My car wasn’t really drivable, so I asked one of the police officers to give me a ride to the emergency room.  I wanted to make sure she was okay.  If I had any other motives, I wouldn’t let myself think about them.

*

It didn’t take long to get to the hospital and luckily my head cleared up in the waiting room.  Whatever happened out in the rain lost its effect on me.  I called Tracey, asked her to bring me a car, and sat down on a hard plastic chair.  Mazda guy received his stitches and left.  Beasty hadn’t even come to the hospital.  Hmph.  Go figure.  The guy who caused the whole mess is fine.  Bastard.

*

As I waited, I couldn’t stop wondering if the whole thing, the accident, was my fault.  What if I hadn’t left work early?  What if I hadn’t switched lanes at the last moment?  Maybe that poor girl wouldn’t need to see a doctor right now. I prayed she wasn’t hurt.

*

“Ben!”  Tracey came running into the waiting room, interrupting my guilt trip, Ike followed carrying Joey and Hannah.

*

“Hey, Sis.”

*

“Are you okay?  Oh my God, what happened?”

*

“Trace, calm down, I’m fine, see.”  I did a full turn so she could see I had no broken bones, no bleeding, but she still hugged me like I’d just returned from the dead.

*

“Really, I’m okay.  I’m not hurt at all.”

*

“What about the other cars?”

*

“The guy who hit me is totally fine.  The girl I hit, well, I don’t know, I’m waiting for her.  But she seemed fine.  I think the doctors are just checking her out and making sure she didn’t pull a muscle in her neck or something, at least I hope that’s all it is.”

*

“You’re waiting for her?”

*

“Well, yeah.  I need to make sure she’s okay.”

*

“Ah, my brother, the last true gentleman.”  She laughed, nudging my arm with her elbow.

*

“I don’t think there’s anything gentlemanly about it.  I hit her.  I have to help.”

*

She raised an eyebrow at me. “Right, because that’s what everyone would do?”

*

“Right.”

*

“Then where’s the guy who hit you?  The one who caused the whole thing?  And didn’t you say on the phone that another car hit the girl?  Where’s that driver?”

*

“Um, they both left already.”

*

“Exactly.  See, you’re a really good guy, Ben.  Don’t downplay that about yourself.  Now.  Let’s sit down and you can tell me everything.  Ike, hon, why don’t you take the kids down to the cafeteria and get them some dinner.”  My sister certainly knew how to give directions.  Ike didn’t even question her, just set off with the kids.

*

We sat down and I gave her the full history of the last hour and a half.  After ten minutes or so a door squeaked and I turned my body towards it just as Nissan girl stepped into the hallway.  Our eyes met.  I felt like an idiot, but couldn’t stop my mouth from stretching into an embarrassingly large grin as I hopped out of the chair, cutting Tracey off mid-sentence.

*

The girl’s face blushed when I approached her. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

*

“No, I guess not.  I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”  Seeing her in the neck brace felt like a slap in my face.  I did that to her.

*

“Oh, I’m fine, this is nothing,” she pointed to the brace and shrugged, “just a precaution.  What about you?  I didn’t even ask if you were okay.”

*

“I’m fine.  Not a scratch on me.”  She nodded and cast her eyes to the floor.  I rocked back and forth on my heels for a few seconds, not really sure what to say next, but also unable to walk away from her.  It was so weird, I wanted to help her, but she didn’t really seem to need any of my assistance.

*

She looked up and seemed on the verge of speaking again when someone behind us shouted, “Abigail!”  She stepped around me, looking for the source and waved to a taller woman with the same dark, wavy hair who was heading in our direction.

*

“My sister, Anna, coming to take me home.”

*

I nodded lamely.  “Right.”

*

“Goodbye, um, I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”

*

“Oh, probably because I never introduced myself.  Sorry, I’m Ben.  Ben Harris.”  I stretched my hand out and braced myself for contact.  Her slender fingers slipped into mine and gripped firmly; I could feel heat building between our palms and wondered if she felt it, too.

*

“I’m Abigail Bronsen.  It’s nice to meet you, Ben.”

*

“You, too, Abigail.”

*

She dropped my hand and met her sister a few feet away.  They hugged and I could faintly hear Abigail giving Anna the same assurances I had given Tracey fifteen minutes ago.  She turned and waved as they headed for the exit.  I tried to watch her walk away, but Ike was back with the kids and Tracey was thrusting a pair of keys in my hand so I had to pay attention to my family.

*

“Are you sure you’re up to driving?  We can drop you off and leave the car for you to use tomorrow if you need it.”

*

“Yeah, I’m fine.  Thanks, though.  And thanks for the car.”

*

“You’re welcome.”

*

We headed to the parking lot together, Joey tugging on my hand to give him a piggyback ride.  Usually I would have been more than happy to give in to him, but my body was starting to feel tense and sore.

*

“Drive safe, okay?  And call me when you get home.”  Tracey hugged me tightly again and I was reminded strongly of our mother.  Kinda made me glad I hadn’t called her, instead.

*

“I will.  Thanks, Trace.”

*

My sister’s family piled into their sensible non-soccermomish van, driving out onto the street first, with me following in Ike’s car.  The guy must really love my sister to let me drive his BMW.  For some reason as I pulled out of the parking lot and headed home my mind flashed back to my last day with Rebecca.  The contrast between her and Abigail hit me across the back of the head, but I don’t know why one reminded me of the other.  Abigail was beautiful while Rebecca had been only pretty; she seemed sweet while Rebecca had been bitchy.

*

My relationship with Rebecca had been a mistake.  Everyone realized this while we were dating.  My best friends Matt and Trish hated her.  She refused to play softball with us and that made the rest of the team hate her, too.  Everyone knew we weren’t going to last.  Everyone but me.  Until one day I walked into her apartment and found her having sex with another guy on her living room floor.

*

At least now I knew why she always kept her apartment so clean.

*

Rebecca was the last person I wanted to be thinking about, but it was probably good that she popped into my head.  Thinking about her made me not want to think about women at all.  My attraction to Abigail was absurd and I didn’t want it to go any further.  I barely knew her.  I didn’t know her at all.

*

*

<– Chapter One: A Birthday ********************Chapter Three: Twenty Questions –>

Chapter One: A Birthday

Abigail

*

“Happy Birthday!” my family exclaimed, rushing into my apartment, arms loaded with all the essentials for a party: pizza, beer, gifts, and cake.  I can’t stand the taste of beer, but as it’s the only alcohol my mother tolerates, I was happy to accept a bottle from the six-pack in my dad’s hands.  Because unlike most people, I do not look forward to my birthday.  Nothing good ever comes of it.  The day I turned five, my parents and I were in a car crash on the way to the zoo and I broke my leg.  On my sixteenth birthday, the boy I had a crush on asked my best friend to the prom, and she said yes.  And when my family barged into my apartment on the eve of my twenty-fifth birthday, my life was nowhere near where it should have been.

*

“What is this?  I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday.”  I didn’t try to hide the irritation in my voice or on my face; they knew I didn’t want to celebrate.  But apparently my frown wasn’t as menacing as I hoped.

*

“Yes, well, you can wallow in self-pity later tonight.  Seriously, Abigail, did you think we were going to ignore your birthday?” Anna laughed as she put the cake in the fridge and grabbed a beer.

*

“As the birthday girl, I thought you’d have some respect for my wishes.”

*

“Since when have we respected your wishes?” Ashley demanded, encircling me in a tight hug.

*

Too true, I thought.

*

“I would’ve been happy to respect your wishes,” Derek shrugged, “they told me we were going to a movie.”

*

“Haha, very funny, D.”  I grimaced at my older sisters and younger brother in turn, but didn’t have much time to complain because my mother was heading towards me.

*

“We won’t stay long if you really don’t want us here, but we wanted to have dinner with you.”  She kissed my cheek as she put a gift-wrapped box on my kitchen table.  “After all, twenty-five years ago, I endured ten hours of excruciatingly painful labor so you could be standing here today.  Don’t I deserve a little bit of time with you to commemorate that occasion?”

*

“Nothing like a guilt trip to kick off the party,” I groaned.  Anna, Ashley, and Derek nodded in agreement and I knew I was defeated.  “Alright, I give in.  What kind of pizza did you bring?”

*

As we gathered around the table and everyone filled their plates with cheesy goodness, I couldn’t help comparing myself with my sisters.  A bad habit to be sure, but it was second nature from growing up in their shadows.  By Anna’s twenty-fifth birthday, she’d been married for three years and loved her job as a buyer for Macy’s almost as much as she loved her husband.  Ashley had been married for two years and teaching for three, she’d already been voted teacher of the year at the high school where she taught math.

*

Me, on the other hand.  Well, I graduated from college three years prior to that dreaded day with good grades and excellent references from my professors.  I even created a substantial portfolio of articles I had written for the school’s newspaper.  But a year of job searching proved to be fruitless.  The only job I found even remotely related to journalism was in the Subscriptions Department of the mailroom at the Boston offices of Intuition Magazine.  Sure, Subscriptions is a step up from sorting and delivering, but it doesn’t exactly get my creative juices flowing. My boss really liked me, or so she’d told me hundreds of times, but each piece I’d submitted to her was returned with a note stating, “Not Intuition material.”

*

“Okay, Abigail, blow out the candles and make a wish!”  My mother placed the chocolate and cookie crumble ice cream cake in front of me, twenty-five candles blazing away.  I looked into the flames, trying to remind myself of what was going well in my life.  The job I hated didn’t pay a lot, but it paid enough that I was able to afford my car payments and rent a decent apartment.  Okay, decent might be pushing it.  My apartment was smaller than my freshman year dorm room.  It barely held enough space for clothes and my mountains of books, let alone room to actually get dressed or complete other essential tasks, like sleeping.  I wasn’t living with my parents, though, so I still considered moving into it the best decision I’d ever made.  And my family, they were always there for me, even if sometimes I wanted them to leave me alone.

*

The only thing left to wish for was love.  But I wasn’t that naïve.  So I blew out the candles hoping only for a better year than the last.  Mom sliced into the cake and handed me a plate.

*

“Do I get to open my presents now?” I asked, digging into my generous portion.  The one good thing about birthdays, other than food and alcohol, is the presents.

*

“Absolutely.  Here, open ours first.”  My father handed me a box and I ripped the paper off, revealing a state-of-the-art Single Serving Gourmet Coffee Maker.

*

“Wow, thank you!” I pulled my face into an oversized grin.  “This is fantastic, I’ve been wanting one of these for months.”  I dug into the packaging and poured my eyes over the instruction manual.

*

“Oh good.  I’m glad you like it.  I thought it would save you some money, now you don’t have to go to Starbucks so often, and you won’t have to make a pot of coffee large enough for four when you’re the only one drinking it.”  My mother’s smile showed how pleased she was with the gift and I decided I would use it every day.

*

“This one is from all three of us,” Ashley explained as she handed over the bag she had carried in.  I pulled out the tissue paper and threw it on the floor, finding that the bag held three envelopes and a wrapped box.  I reached for the box first; inside was a charming, hand-carved, wooden picture frame.  Initials on the sides represented the four of us.

*

I ran my fingers over the wood and looked at the picture.  It had been taken at Christmas.  Our father had gotten all of us stockings with our initials sewn onto the toe.  We were holding our stockings, with the toes clearly showing, and in addition to the four of us, Anna’s husband, Will, Ashley’s husband, Cain, and Derek’s fiancé, Samantha, smiled for the camera.

*

“It’s beautiful, guys, thank you.”  Setting it on the table upright, I grabbed the cards next and read them to myself.

*

“B, you may be 25 now, but that doesn’t mean you’re an adult or anything.  You’ll always be my baby sister.  And I retain the right to belittle and berate you as much as possible.  Love ya, mean it, N.”

*

“Abigail, Happy Birthday.  Mine’s next month and I expect a jet ski.  Thanks. Derek.”

*

As I opened Ashley’s, a slip of paper fell out of the envelope and onto the table.  I ignored it while reading her handwritten comments, “BB, I love you soooo much.  Have the bestest birthday ever!  Your favorite sister, S,” then eagerly picked up the sheet to see what other surprise she had in store for me.

*

“Isn’t that a riot?” Ashley laughed.  “I found it a couple of weeks ago when I was cleaning out our attic.  It was mixed in with some of my old high school things.”

*

“What is it?” Anna asked as Derek grabbed it out of my hand.

*

“25 Things I Want to Accomplish by Age 25 by Abigail Bronsen,” he read.  Everyone cracked up, but I snatched the paper back from him, a deep blush spreading over my cheeks and neck.

*

“It was a project for English.  We had to come up with a list, any list, and write an essay on why we included the items we did and why we left other things off.  I think I was fifteen when I wrote this.”

*

“What’s on it?” Derek asked, trying to steal it again.

*

“Oh, just the usual fifteen-year old hopes and dreams.  Marry Leonardo DiCaprio, own a Corvette, kill my younger brother, you get the idea.”  I folded the paper and stuck it in my pocket, my mind wandering to the few items I had glimpsed, learn how to surf, learn a foreign language, buy a house. I tried to clear my head and pay attention to the conversation my parents were having about new windows in their kitchen, but every few seconds, my thoughts drifted back to the list.  Learn how to cook.  Learn how to ski. I shook each one out of my head, and wasn’t surprised when Derek asked if I was having a seizure.  Fortunately, everyone laughed at my stupidity and didn’t question the reason for it.

*

Two hours of merriment and jokes at my expense later, I was ready to have the apartment back to myself.  My family had the uncanny ability to make me feel trapped in an elevator stuck between floors.

*

“Thanks for coming.  I had a great birthday.  I love you Mom, Daddy,” I ushered them out of the door with a hug and kiss.  “I can’t wait to use my coffee maker,” I called after them.  “Thanks Anna, Derek.  I’ll see you at lunch next week.  Love you, Ash.”  I gave each of them a quick hug and watched as they filed down the stairs and flowed into the parking lot.

*

I secured the lock on my door and went back to the table, where my presents laid amidst torn and crumpled wrapping paper.  I stared at the coffee maker and photo and pulled the list out of my pocket.  Smoothing out the folds and laying the paper down on the table, I examined it.  The gifts my family had so thoughtfully given me now seemed like instruments of mental torture, reminders of my failure in life.  The first two items popped off the page, threatening to strangle me with disappointed hopes.

*

#1 Fall in Love

#2 Get Married

*

I tried not to think about the list or my lifetime membership in the Singles Club while I cleaned and straightened the apartment, but when every surface had been scrubbed and the last bit of trash stowed safely in the dumpster, there was little else to occupy my mind.

*

Well, happy birthday to me.

*

*

Chapter Two: An Accident –>

It’s Been One Year…

365 days and 100 posts.

*

One year ago today, I picked up a pen and started writing down the story of how I came to pick up a pen in the first place.  It’s crazy how much (and how little) can happen in a year’s time.

*

I was working at a hair salon last October, frustrated that I couldn’t pay my bills and hating how stressed out every day at work made me.  I had fallen in love with Ben Harris, the character I dreamed up to fall in love with my fictional equivalent, Abigail Bronsen.  I had never sent out a query letter and I had no idea how self-esteem crushing writing one could be.

*

In November, I attempted my first NANO novel, which I called Anita’s Dream Diary.  There were certain things about ADD that I loved- the first chapter contained a rather hysterical (I think) suicide attempt- but as I kept writing, I just realized the entire style of the book wasn’t suited to my voice.  It was an interesting lesson in learning to let go when things aren’t working.  I started writing The Death Effect on Thanksgiving Day and I didn’t “win” NANO, but I’m still glad I attempted it.

*

December was a big month.  I gave my boss notice and started looking for other jobs.  I knew that I was never going to be happy working as a hair salon receptionist.  So I moved on.  And on January 20th I started my new job.  As a receptionist at an orthodontist’s office.  Okay, so I’m still a receptionist, but the great thing about working at the ortho is that when I leave work- I’m done with that job.  I don’t have to worry that someone is going to call and ask me to work their shift or about the crazy guest that didn’t like her hair.  I’m not on-call 24/7.

*

I went on a couple of dates in February!  It didn’t end in a love connection, but it felt good to get out there and feel some butterflies and wonder where it was going.  I hadn’t been on a date in seven years, so even being asked out boosted my confidence!

*

March and April were wedding months for me.  I met with a lot of brides, worked a couple of weddings, and started planning with a full-service couple.  I really really love being a wedding coordinator.  I cannot wait until that grand day when I’ll get to do it full time.  I really hope it happens soon. I know that whenever I’m able to quit my day job to do weddings full time, I’ll be able to put a lot more of my free time into 1- writing and 2- having a social life!

*

Disney World and all of it’s fantubulousness happened in May.  It was a much-much-much needed vacation.  I really needed to see my friend, Brooke, and I really needed to have some fun and some alone time with my writing.  I got all three things.  And my adorable niece, Gracyn, was born on May 24.  She is one of the happiest things in my life right now.  She’s not my actual niece, but her mother and I have been friends since first grade!

*

I turned 26 in June.  If it’s is possible, I think turning 26 was more difficult than turning 25.  I had my book to focus on on my twenty-fifth birthday.  On my twenty-sixth, all I had to focus on was the fact that I was twenty-six!  I realize I’m not old.  I realize I’m still young.  But I am not living like a 26-year old.  I’m a nomad.  I don’t have a real home.  I have three jobs.  I’ve never had a relationship.  I wonder what’s wrong with me that at 26 I’m not more grounded.  Some people would be happy with leading this kind of existence.  I am just not one of those people.  I like order and stability.  I can’t understand what’s been keeping me from living the life I want.

*

A client was unhappy with me in July.  I can’t explain how uncomfortable and upset that makes me.  I want to make everyone happy.  I am sickeningly accommodating of people, especially my clients.  It keeps me up at night when someone is angry at me.  But I had to push through it, because I kept getting prospective clients and I still had other weddings to plan and coordinate.  It wasn’t easy for me.  And I still think about it sometimes on my long commutes to and from work.  I hate that I can’t get over things like that.

*

The Hamm family took a trip to visit more of the Hamms in August.  We spent a long weekend with my grandparents in Buffalo. It was another much needed vacation.  My really good friends Ashley and Charles moved to Burlington with beautiful Gracyn around the same time.  I’m soooooo happy I finally have close  friends nearby.  And that I don’t have to spend all my weekends alone in my bedroom!

*

September and October have been wedding-crazy-busy again!  As you can see, the year started with writing and it pretty much fazed out and into wedding work.  I wish I had an extra twelve hours every day so that I could focus equally on both my loves.  Maybe one day I’ll be able to.  I miss writing.  I can’t remember the last time I sat and wrote anything new.  I’ve been slowly editing Twenty-Five for the past month, but haven’t picked up a pen and written anything fresh.

*

So that’s where I am, on this, the one-year anniversary and one-hundredth post of my blog.  I hope I’ll have another eventful year.  I hope I’ll grow and maybe have another finished book by the time October 15, 2011 comes around.  Maybe I’ll be in love.  Maybe I’ll be living on my own.  Or maybe I’ll have learned to start living in the moment and not looking to the future.  Who knows.  But I hope you’ll stay along for the ride.

*

Quick reminder- I’ll start posting my book chapter by chapter on Sunday.  Please, if you are a regular reader, but have never commented- let me know how you like it!  And share it with everyone you know.  Especially if you know any literary agents or publishers

*

And thank you so much for reading, for following this journey I’m taking to become a real writer.  I appreciate it more than I can say.

My Favorite Posts

There’s less than a week til the one-year anniversary of this blog!  I can hardly believe that I’ve been writing and sharing with the blogosphere for a year.  I’m so glad I let a friend convince me to start it.  It has been a friend when I had no one to talk to, an outlet to vent, and the best place in the world to share my writing.  I sincerely hope that those of you who are kind enough to follow me have enjoyed my nonsensical ramblings and bitching and exultations.

For those of you who may not have been around since the beginning of this blog, I wanted to catch you up a little bit/ share my favorite posts from this past year.  I hope you enjoy!

The Road That Let to Know

Originally Posted October 15, 2009

It’s amazing how seemingly insignificant moments in life can become catalysts for major change.  At least that’s what I’ve been told.  And it must be true because I’ve witnessed the phenomenon time and time again.

I tend to be the type of person who thinks I always know what path I’m walking when, in reality, I could stumble upon a fork in the road, trip over a tree root, or walk right into a dead end at any moment.

Read more here…

My Top 10 Favorite Books

Originally Posted November 9, 2009

This was a HARD list for me to make.  I love to read.  I’ve always loved to read and my taste in books is broad.  I only had one requirement for a book to make my top ten list: I had to have read it more than once.  To me, that’s an automatic way to determine if a book is good.  Do I want to read it a second time?  A third time?  Otherwise, I just went with my gut.

1.) Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.  I know, no big surprise here if you’ve read other blog entries and the Randomness page.  I’ve read this book more times than I can count.  I cry every time Darcy says, “You are too generous to trifle with me…”  I have “I love Mr. Darcy” as the screen saver on my phone.  Yes.  I really do.  I’m such a dork, but I don’t care.  Elizabeth Bennett is witty, independent, and kind.  She stays true to the women of the time period she lived in, but she also breaks new ground.  Jane Austen is a genius.  This is ABSOLUTELY the best book ever written.  If you disagree we cannot be friends.

Read more here…

Bookshelf Browsing- Why Judging a Book By Its Cover is Totally Fine By Me

Originally Posted January 6, 2010

I read somewhere that writers aspiring to be published should

(A) Read as many books in the genre they are writing in as possible

and

(B) Support other beginning (or non-famous) authors by buying their books.

Well, if you’ve been reading my blog regularly you’ll know my financial situation as of late hasn’t really allowed me to purchase many books (or any at all), so I’m dreadfully out of touch with what is out there in book world right now.

Read more here…

What I Learned This Week

Originally Posted March 11, 2010

I’m often told that my writing is very honest- that I’m not afraid of putting myself out there on the page.  And I definitely find this is true.  In fact, I’m more honest in my writing than in actual conversation.  Not because I am untruthful in real conversation, but because I often just can’t find the right way to express myself.  Somehow, in writing, I always can.

I’ve been thinking about this phenomenon a lot lately.  Namely due to this guy I went out on a couple of dates with.  Let me emphasize A COUPLE OF DATES.  I’ll be more precise.  TWO dates.  You’ll see why the number is important in a minute.

Read more here…

The Query I Wish I Could Send Out

Originally Posted May 3, 2010

Dear SuperAgent,

I wrote my first novel, Twenty-Five, a year ago, on the verge of my own twenty-fifth birthday to deal with the trauma of that milestone.  It is the first time I’ve attempted to write fiction other than a contest in the fourth grade (which I won) where I wrote a short story entitled The Summer Aliens Invaded My Brother’s Brain.  I know my strengths and I know my weaknesses.  Twenty-Five is a love story, pure and simple.  The characters are not so utterly unique that reading about them makes one wonder if I was on acid when imagining their personalities.  The plot is not so action packed and full of twists and turns that readers will sit looking at the wall, scratching their heads, for ten minutes after reading because they have no idea what the hell just happened.  Instead, I’ve created characters who are a lot like you and me, your best friend, your next door neighbor, and the boy who grew up down the street from you who you always had a secret crush on.  What happens to them is what happens to us all- the firsts of a new relationship.  The first meeting, the first date, the first kiss, the first fight, the big breakup, etc.

Read more here…

And some milestone updates for you:  this is my 99th (eek!) post and there are only 4 days until the anniversary!!!!
A little thing that makes me happy: decorating for Halloween!