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? –>