Steal Your Heart Away
Read Steal Your Heart Away Online
Authors: Gina Presley
by Gina Presley
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder. Copyright © 2014
She looked at me from across the table and I knew I could take her home that night. The way her eyes lit up when I talked, how she twisted her hair playfully as if to grab my attention. But no, I wouldn’t take this one home tonight. It wasn’t that she was unattractive, she was pretty enough. Although, her pictures online made her appear much more attractive than she was in real life. No, it was that she wanted me too badly. It was too easy.
She seemed shocked when we got in my car and I drove towards her house instead of mine. We parked out front of her condo and she looked at me with confused blue eyes.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, seemingly hurt that I wouldn’t come inside when she asked.
“It’s not you, it’s me… Really.”
“Like I haven’t heard that one before.” She quickly grabbed her purse and slammed the car door behind her.
I felt bad but I would have felt worse if we would have slept together and I never talked to her again. That happened more times than I’d like to admit. I didn’t want to be like that, I just wanted a girl to look inside me, rather than at me. I knew I was good looking. I was fit, I had good style, I got my hair professionally done every two weeks. Girls went crazy over the boyish look I presented.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was perfect timing, I needed a best friend and he just so happened to be calling me.
“Steve?” I answered.
“Hey Amanda! How did the date go?”
“Ugh, awful,” I responded.
“Mine too. The girl looked nothing like she did in her Facebook pictures. I say we give online dating a rest.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I let out a sigh.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Deal. Goodnight Steve.”
I drove home to a big empty house. As a surgeon, I made out pretty good racking in 150K a year. That’s another reason girls wanted to date me. I tried to be as humble as possible, as to distract the “gold diggers” but my red BMW probably didn’t help the cause.
As I sat in my driveway I tried to remember the last time I was truly happy. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my job, I had plenty of friends, and my family lived just on the other side of the valley. I just felt so
lonely.
What was the point of a huge house with nobody to live in it? A huge bed with nobody to sleep in it?
Ever since I was little I dreamed of a perfect marriage, the perfect kids, and the white picket fence. Even though I was considered a “butch” lesbian, I still wanted to bear my own children.
Reality struck me hard on my 39
th
birthday. I was running out of time. Would I ever find true love? Did such a thing even exist? I felt a single tear tumble down my cheek as I thought about it and quickly wiped it away. If anyone knew anything about me, it was that I never cried. I was always the strong one, the one who never broke. Maybe it was all a facade.
When my alarm went off the next morning I rolled out of bed and put on my scrubs with eyes halfway open. I looked in the mirror in horror to see my cheeks all puffy from crying the night before. I washed my face and lathered it with lotion but it didn’t do much to help. I gave up and headed out the door.
I arrived at the hospital only to be bombarded by nurses who needed me. There was an emergency kidney transplant for a thirteen year old cancer patient and an appendix removal for an elderly old woman. I paged Steve but he was in the middle of a heart valve replacement and I swore under my breath.
“Give the old woman some pain relief, make her as comfortable as possible. I’ll be there in one hour, tops. Is the boy already on anesthetic?”
“Yes, Dr. Sheilds.”
“Good, I’m on my way. And damnit, get another surgeon here Chrissy.”
“Yes ma’am.”
The boy was already put under by the time I reached his room and I went straight to work. He was losing time, and fast. I worked steadily but quickly. I needed to get in and out as quickly as possible so I could go get that appendix out of that poor old woman.
The afternoon proceeded in the same fashion, I don’t know what it was but everyone seemed to be in some sort of traumatic position on that snowy December day. It wasn’t until 4:00 PM that Steven and I got a chance to take a seat in the cafeteria and have a cup of coffee. We were both exhausted, worn to the bone. We both sat there gathering ourselves before he finally took a breath of relief.
“Rough day, eh?” he said. I rose my eyebrow in response and continued sipping my coffee. “What’s up your ass?” he asked defensively.
“Just life, Steve. It gets old.”
“No, we get old, friend. And we aren’t going to get any younger either. Cheers to growing old together?” I rose my Styrofoam cup to tap his and I smiled for the first time that day. Steve always knew how to cheer me up.
“What are you doing tonight? Netflix and takeout at my place?” I asked.
“No ma’am. We are going out tonight.”
“Oh yeah? Where are we going?” I asked curiously. I knew he was up to something.
“Well, you see… There’s this girl…”
“And you want me to wingman for you. No way. I thought we were done dating for a while.” I complained.
“Come on, Amanda. I’m nervous to go talk to her alone. Just come.”
“Aren’t you scared I’ll steal her away from you?” I teased.
“Nice try, but she’s straight. The guy at the bar told me she just got out of a divorce with a dude and isn’t ready to start dating again. I think I can change that.”
“Cocky much?”
“Never cocky, always confident,” Steve responded with a wink. I rolled my eyes and we proceeded out the door.
When I returned home I decided to get dressed up myself. My blonde hair laid down flat against my forehead, each hair carefully placed with styling matte. I sprayed myself with my most alluring cologne and fixed my watch on my wrist
Although I wasn’t big on makeup, I liked the way mascara made my blue eyes pop so I applied a few coats before heading out the door. Who knows, maybe there would be a cute girl there and we could hit it off. Maybe I would be selfish, bring her home for a night.
When I met Steve at the club I barely recognized him. His messy sandy hair was suddenly clean cut and he wore a black button up with some dark tailored jeans. I swore under my breath- we could be twins other than the fact that my black shirt was a v neck.
“Damnnnn. Who is that hottie?” I teased.
“You look pretty good yourself, Amanda. Are you sure you’re not trying to steal my girl?” he smirked.
“Judging on your taste of women she probably isn’t hot enough for my standards.”
“Ouch!” he responded, shaking his hand as if it were on fire.
When we walked in to the club, I was somewhat hesitant. It was a tiny hole in the wall with a small bar that sat 6 people. The stage was hardly big enough for one performer, let alone a band or group. Most of the real estate was on the floor, with at least 20 round tables and two rows of chairs just in front of the stage.
I couldn’t imagine them getting that many people in here to watch a few failed musicians and sad poets. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate the arts- I did. What I didn’t appreciate was people who lived on false hope and didn’t work towards their goals. I went to school for 15 years to get my degree.
By the time we sat down at a table there were maybe 15 other people wandering around claiming tables. Needless to say, I had pretty low expectations for this girl we were about to watch. By the time the performers started coming on stage, I'd had enough drinks to have a pretty good buzz. It seemed to be some kind of open-mic night. Most were singers, there were a few instrument soloists and two bands. They were all talented enough, but nothing that blew me away.
I looked around again to see that sure enough, every table in the house was full. I tried to catch glimpse of a few cute girls but had no such luck. Most of these girls were super indie and hipster. I felt so out of place with my True Religion jeans and leather jacket. I made good money and I dressed the part. There was nothing wrong with that.
Finally, Steve nudged me with his elbow.
“There she is,” he whispered into my ear.
When I looked on the stage I couldn’t believe how pretty she was. Maybe it was the alcohol, but all I could think was she did not belong in a joint like this. Her long raven black hair tumbled down her shoulders in soft waves, perfectly angled away from her face. I could see the overhead lights glowing in her big brown eyes that were set against a beautiful olive complexion.
She wore black jeans that hugged her in all the right places and a cutoff sequin shirt that sparked my imagination. Two tattoos sat on her hip bones just before disappearing into her jeans. Although she was dressed very sexy, she had a young face that deemed innocence. Her small frame made her appear youthful, but still womanly. I wondered how old she was.
It wasn’t hard to see that there was no way she was in Steve’s league. Don’t get me wrong, he was a good looking guy. He had a lot going for him and had a lot of good qualities. But a girl like that doesn’t belong to just anyone.
When she opened her mouth to sing all doubts I had previously had were nothing but distant memories. Her voice had the sexy sultry tone of a true jazz singer but also the sweet melody of a classically trained musician. The way she swayed her body to the music and gently moved her hips had me in a daze and it was minutes before I realized that Steve was talking to me.
“So what do you think?” he asked.
“Sorry, the music was too loud. What did you say?”
“Do you think I’ve got a shot?” he looked at me hopefully.
“She’d be crazy not to give you a chance,” I smiled. I hated giving him false hope but he was my best friend and I didn’t want to see that light die in his eyes.
“Here she comes,” he whispered before straightening his collar and running his fingers through his hair one last time.
“Good to see you in here again, Steve!” She had a perfect smile, it was very contagious. “Is this your wife?” She asked, looking towards me. I tried but couldn’t contain my laughter.
“No this is Amanda, my best friend.” She seemed to be relieved, maybe she was into Steve. Maybe I had underestimated him.
“Very nice to meet you,” I extended my hand out to hers and when she took it, we met eyes for the first time. Something in her eyes intrigued me, told me that maybe there was something there. However, before she got back on stage it was Steve she sat and talked to. Discouraged, I reminded myself that this was Steve’s love interest, not mine. Besides, she was straight.
When she returned to the stage she seemed to have become nervous. She missed a few notes and I could hear the shakiness in her voice. She must have really liked Steve. Although I wanted to be happy for him, I couldn’t help but be jealous.
She was incredible. However, during her cover of Adele’s “Make You Feel My Love” I felt like it was me she was looking at. Whenever I met her stare she’d turn away. I would blush and look down at my drink or my phone, pretending to be preoccupied. Every time I looked up though, it was me she was looking at.