Exposed: Book One of The Love Seekers Series (5 page)

              “Are you sure?”

              The Bill Engvall
Here’s Your Sign
comedy routine popped into my head, and I wanted to be snarky and say, “Nope, I hit my head when I fell and I don’t remember a thing. Here’s your sign.” But I swallowed those words like a giant horse pill taken without water, and instead yelled, “I’m fine.” My tone was harder than I intended, but I didn’t care too much about offending her at the moment. She pulled me out of bed after a night from hell, this was the best I could do.

              “All right. Do you need any help?”

              “Nope. I got it covered.” After I got sick, it seemed as if I needed assistance doing simple things. Shopping, opening jars, and occasionally needing a ride. However, there were some things I would rather do for myself as long as I could. Bathing was one of those things. I would rather not show my naked ass to my family if possible. They saw enough when I was a baby. Thank you very much! It may take me longer, but I managed.

              I should have been prepared for her to be lying in wait for me though. As soon as I stepped out of the bathroom and took one small step toward my bedroom, she was there hovering over me from behind. “You want to tell me what happened last night?”

              “Bad date. End of story.” Unwilling to hash out the details, it was all I was willing to concede. I didn’t care if she wanted to know more. I wanted to be cured, but that hadn’t happened either.

              “That’s all I get? I thought you two would hit it off. He seemed like a nice enough guy.”

              My back went ramrod straight. I leaned against the wall for support and cautiously turned around. Narrowing my eyes, I studied her for a moment before I quietly asked, “Have you actually ever met him?”

              “No, but Jenna said…” Her voice tapered off when she caught dark expression.

              That’s all I needed to hear. Jenna was actually a friend of my sister’s that I had met shortly after moving to Charleston. Not only did she not have good intentions, but she’d sworn this guy was one of the best she knew and wouldn’t care about my disability. She was also one of the girls I had busted pretending to slur. Either she wanted to make fun of me some more, or she assumed that since he worked as a physical therapist, he would automatically accept someone who had to use medical devices in everyday life. I leaned toward the former over the latter. “So basically, you’ve only heard her side of this guy’s personality?”

              “Well, yeah, but he seems like a great guy.”

              “Seems and is are two completely different things.”

              Maybe it was the hard edge in my tone or my choice of words, but she started to look even more wary as she asked, “What did he do?”

              “Nothing. That’s the problem. He did nothing.”

              “He had to have done something for you to act like this.”

              “No, he left before he could do anything else.”

              “Maybe some sort of emergency popped up.”

              My sister, the person willing to give her friends the benefit of the doubt—or in this case, a friend of a friend—defended the asshole from the previous night, but I refused to allow her to make stupid excuses for someone else. I had been wronged, and I was done with it all. “He seemed fine until he noticed me walking toward him with my cane, then he got up and started to walk out. But who knows, maybe it was my ugly mug.” I tried to laugh it off, but it still stung. I still felt raw and exposed.

              Her mouth formed a soundless “O.” She blinked once, twice, and a third time before she finally changed the subject. “How about some breakfast? My treat. Maybe after, you’ll feel better.”

              Once again, everything was pushed back into the dark corner–or rather back into the closet–and that was the end of it. It was not that my sister wouldn’t deal with it. I believed it was more that she didn’t know how to deal with it, or what to say when it got shoved in her face. I didn’t blame her completely, because she at least made and effort and tried as much as she could. “Sure. Breakfast sounds good.” I gave her a small smile, and once again swept everything under the rug for her benefit.

              I knew she wouldn’t and couldn’t understand where I was or how I’ve changed. She went to all my doctor appointments, asked her questions, listened to everything the doctors said, and did her own research. With all of that, she still didn’t get it. Then again, my counselor always reminded me that until someone lived it, I could expect sympathy, but not empathy. She might be right, and while I would not wish this on my worst enemy, sometimes I wished people had an inkling of what I experienced.

              This whole thing—my new life, the disease—was difficult to deal with, and I always pushed people away. That was on me, but sometimes I felt completely and utterly alone.

Chapter 5

Emma

              Brunch turned into an awkward affair with my family. My brother–in–law got onto the boys and told them to hold open the doors for me. My sister escorted me to my chair and treated me as if I was an invalid. And the highlight of the morning was seeing Jenna. Happy day. Not!

              If the meal had only been my family, I would have been happier and more comfortable, but alas, my sister had invited Jenna believing we could all discuss my date. I saw Jenna smirk more than once. The bitch knew. My sister would not believe me though, and thus, I had to endure the meal. I barely touched my food, my defenses were on high alert and my stomach churned with discomfort. Watching everyone eat as I pushed the food around on my plate, I sort of wished Jenna would choke on her sandwich.

              When I finally arrived home from my forced outing, I locked my front door, played with Curley, and then curled up on my bed with my computer. Curiosity coerced me, and made me want to check my email and FaceSpace messages. Had Bryan sent a message after I shut down the night before?

              Logging onto the computer, I jumped when that familiar ding rang as soon as I logged onto FS.

Bryan:
Hey, what happened last night?

             
Either his memory had issues, or he was obtuse. I rolled my eyes and attempted to ignore him for a bit, to build anticipation, and to dish out a small punishment. I was still slightly annoyed with him.

              Ding after ding could be heard. My phone had been silent during brunch because I had turned off my ringer, however, my computer would not shut up. Even muted, ignoring the messages got harder as his name flashed across the top of my screen, the number of messages increasing…

Bryan:
I know you’re there

Are you ignoring me now?

What are you up to?

Hi.



I’m still here.

As you can tell, I’m here and not going away.

You may as well talk to me.

             
Groaning, I realized I had no choice.

Me:
What do you want?

Bryan:
She lives.

Me:
Smartass.

Bryan:
Well I do have an ass, but it doesn’t have a brain, but I’ve been told I’m smart…so maybe it is too. LOL.

             
Snorting with laughter, I surprised my dog and he jumped off the bed to curl up on the floor away from me. I wouldn’t admit I laughed. That secret stayed between me and Curley.

Me:
Hardy har har.

Bryan:
Does this mean I actually made you laugh?

Me:
Nope, not at all.

             
I lied as I continued to snicker. The smile wouldn’t leave my face. His dorky answers lightened the load and pressure. Talking to him beat hanging around Jenna any day of the week.

Me:
You really need to try harder if you want me to laugh.

Bryan:
Harder? Well I am getting harder, but that may be because I’m playing.

             
I crinkled my nose in disgust and amusement as I giggled.

Me:
Not what I was talking about.

Bryan:
Masturbation is healthy.

Me:
Don’t need to know.

Bryan:
Do you ever?

Me:
Do I ever what?

Bryan:
Hell. What are we talking about here?

Masturbate. Do you masturbate?

Me:
Not having this convo with you.

Bryan:
Seriously? Maybe you just need to loosen up and get laid. ;)

Me:
Not funny! Grrr.

             
Now I was starting to get pissed off again. I could feel my anger and embarrassment growing, and that made for one volatile woman. His conversation, the way he laughed about everything the night before, came rushing back along with all of the emotions. Really, my reaction had more to do with my humiliation than it did him, but I could not bring myself to admit it.

              He took a second to respond.

Bryan:
Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. I really didn’t.

             
Sure he hadn’t. I believed him about as much as I believed that my college boyfriend wasn’t screwing the clarinet player who sat in front of me in band–and I had walked in on them during the act. Okay, maybe I was overreacting. Probably due to some deep seeded issue with men lying and previous experiences, but I refused to psychoanalyze myself.

              When he received no immediate reply, he pinged me again.

Bryan:
Look, I really didn’t mean to make you mad last night or today.

I’m a guy and we can be dicks sometimes. Not gonna lie.

Me:
You don’t say.

Bryan:
LOL. I do say.

              Part of me felt myself pulling toward him, accepting his candor and words. And yet, the other part still held onto my fear like a protective armor, shielding me from life itself. Did I dare? What could it hurt? I mean, he was in San Diego, in the Navy, and nothing more than a mere acquaintance. It would never build into something more. If anything, Bryan could be the perfect outlet to vent.

Bryan:
Accept my apology?

Me:
Fine. Whatever.

             
I might have been willing to forgive him, but I never said I would make it easy for him.

Bryan:
Wow. So gracious. Thanks.

             
I could sense the sarcasm drowning his reply, and decided to play along.

Me:
Yes, I am. As gracious as a princess.

Bryan:
At least you didn’t turn yourself into a queen.

Me:
Hey, I could’ve said empress.

Bryan:
LOL. Yes, you could have.

Me:
:D hehe

Bryan:
So your imperial highness, what have you been up to today?

             
His latest response surprised me. Were we not going to even broach what happened last night? Was he not going to bring up the touchy subject again? Wait. Why did I want him to?

Me:
Not much. I went to brunch with sis and a few others and now back home.

Bryan:
How’s she doing?

Me:
Same shit different day. She jerked me out of bed and made me leave the house.

Bryan:
Might have been good for you.

Me:
Ha! She does what she wants half the time. LOL.

Bryan:
LMAO. She does, which is probably why she and Mel get along so well.

Me:
Don’t remind me. I can’t believe I introduced them and they hit it off.

BTW, how do you know how she is?

Bryan:
Happens. And Mel tells me stories about her conversations with Ellie and you.

Me:
Oh.

Bryan:
Yeah, I’ve heard that once your sis makes a decision, there is no changing her mind.

Me:
That’s her in a nutshell.

Bryan:
Mel is the same way. Trust me.

Me:
True dat.

             
Silence descended on his end as the minutes passed, and I worried that I had inadvertently annoyed him or said something wrong. My mind raced with what I could have done to offend.
Get a grip!
If I continued to think about it, allowed my mind to race down every rabbit hole imaginable–and some that were not–my anxiety would spiral out of control. When it came to the opposite sex, I possessed zero confidence unless I had known the man for years.

              To me Bryan could be nothing more than someone on the other end of the computer. A pen pal, so to speak. Nothing more, and nothing less.

              Behind me, my antique alarm clocked ticked away the seconds, increasing my annoyance. Since my disability, I periodically underwent moments when I could not control my emotions or anxiety. I felt it bubbling up in my gut, that coil tightening, creating that anxious feeling.              

              I scrolled through our conversation on the screen, re–reading everything since he popped on this morning, and I saw nothing that should have offended him. Unless he didn’t appreciate slang, but I suspected that to be false, since he’d used slang more than once the night I met him.

              Tick tock. Unable to stand the radio silence further, I typed my message.

             
Me:
Hello?

             
Bryan:
Just a sec.

             
Me:
K.

             
If he had something he needed to do, he should have told me he would talk to me later instead of making me wait. Glancing at the clock to see how much time had passed, I rolled my eyes at my own behavior. What had felt like 15 minutes or more to me, had only been five. Once again I had to remind myself,
get a grip, Emma!

             
Instead of waiting for him with baited breath to respond to me, I decided to move on, or act like it didn’t matter to me whether he messaged me or not again. He was a crush and that was all he would ever be. And besides, my current goal consisted of trying not to think of him as a guy. A pen pal. Bryan was nothing more than a pen pal. And the sooner I stopped fixating on him, the better. We could be friends, we could talk; however, I wanted someone who would stick by me through thick and thin. Someone who would actually be there for me. Bryan’s confirmed bachelor status, excluded him from consideration. According to Mel, he loved the Navy and playing the field. Not exactly an ideal pick for a long–term partner.

              Grabbing a glass of iced tea from the kitchen, I settled back onto my bed and picked up my book from my bedside table. My book boyfriend would help to cleanse my mind of all thoughts centering on Bryan.

              I immersed myself inside a fictional world and my book transported me to a completely different century. I read about time traveling highlanders who found the loves of their lives in a different century, battled evil, and tried to make the world a better place. They wanted the past to impact the future. And while they did all of that, they still protected the women they had come to love and depend on. A dreamy sigh escaped my lips. Sometimes I hoped, wished, and prayed something like that would happen to me. But until then, I continued to wait for the man who would sweep me off my feet.

              My grandmother used to tell me I possessed an old soul. Maybe I did. I always believed the guy should ask the girl—it was how my family raised me–I preferred many things from days gone by, compared to some of the crap out there today. I despised the stupid head games males and females thought they needed to play with each other—I didn’t understand them—and I believed kids should play outside more than they played video games. As a child, I drank out of a garden hose, only played video games occasionally—usually when the weather turned bad—and I learned to use my imagination. Before I could watch television, I had to read for thirty minutes, but that rule never bothered me because I had always loved books. They took me away to faraway places, and let me pretend to be someone else for a short period of time–not that I needed to run away from a bad childhood. Quite the contrary.

              I grew up moving from naval base to naval base every one to three years, and forced myself to transform from an introvert to an extrovert. Books broke up the stress and allowed me to relax. Plus, I loved imagining how everything played out in my head. There were times reading entertained me more than watching whatever my parents wanted to watch. I was a bookworm of the highest order.

              Even as an adult, I loved to read. I could have probably sat there for the rest of the day lost in the world of words, until I was interrupted by a certain four–legged creature. I glared at Curley, whose bark distracted me as he stood on his hind legs staring out the low sitting window. After he calmed down, I tried to return to my book, however, someone messaged me on FaceSpace distracting me further, and hearing the ding, Curley decided play time had arrived.