Every Girl Does It (3 page)

“What
?” I yell at the strange
,
hot man
and
I lean
down to see if Derek i
s okay
.
Wow
, this guy i
s going to need therapy after today.

“H
e’s an idiot
,
”
t
he fireman state
s
as he rub
s
his large hands
.
N
ot even a scratch from that hit
.
N
ice.

The claim is valid
;
there’s no way to argue that point
.
Nice to know I’m not the only sane one here at the wedding.

“Thanks,” I manage to mutter as I me
e
t the craziest green eyes I
’
ve ever seen in my entire life. Oh good, the room is spinning now
.
P
erfect
.
M
aybe I
’
ll pass out on top of Derek
,
looking all kinds of inappropriate
.
T
he mayor would love that.

“You’re welcome
,
Amanda.”
Mr.
Fireman
grins cleverly before
he turn
s
around and walk
s
back into the church.

“Who is that?”
Derek
is
still
pathetically
whimpering on the ground
.
I fe
e
l like kicking him, bu
t I
’
m not the violent type.
I
’
m
outside
,
so it
’
s easy to make an escape
.
I'm sure not going to
wait around. O
n the way home
,
I
ke
ep
wondering about Mr. Mystery Fireman.
He looked so familiar
.
D
o
I know him? How d
oes
he know my name? Our town of Nampa
,
Idaho
i
sn’t very large,
we
only
boast
enough
people
for two high schools
.
T
hen again
,
he could have easily gone
to school
somewhere in Boise or Meridian. But he was definitely a Nampa
fireman.

****

Google is wonderful;
which could be construed as stalking, but my
curiosity
i
s eating me alive.
Yes! Found it, Nampa
F
irehouse,
click.

Oh
be still my rapid
ly
beating heart
.
T
h
ey have a calendar
for
a suggested donation of
only
ten
dollars! Plus
,
it
’s for charity! Who
wouldn’t buy the calendar
? Of course, he
’
s Mr.
December
.
Merry Christmas
,
Amanda. My strict Nazarene grandma is probably rolling in her
grave
,
not
that I didn’t give her enough reasons to be in that grave wh
ile
she was
living
. What with my dancing and going to movies. She was a dear
,
sweet lady
who
I
’
m thankful now, is with her
Lord. I
’
m silently praying to God that
H
e is the only one
who
c
an actually hear my thoughts. Amen
. And,
girls
,
if you
can
see this, A-M-E-N.

You could do laundry on his abs. Is he airbrushed?
How can abs look this way?
His chest
is
perfectly chiseled, like God cut him out of
a mountain
.
Those green
eyes a
ren’t eve
n his best feature.
His
h
air is so thick and glossy
,
it should have its own Facebook page, and I would easily be the number one fan.

I need to refocus
.
W
here is his name?
I s
croll
do
wn to the bottom of the page
and
see “
s
taff
”
. I click
and pray it w
ill
be the
correct
i
nformation.
Moving
down
the page
again
,
I see his
picture and click on it. They have stats right next to the names
. Wait
. No.
Well, I just
almost
swallow
ed
my tongue
–
didn’t know it was possible, but here you see it documented
.
I
t almost happened to a perfectly healthy
twenty-seven
year old
, a
nd my parents would have found me in my apartment
,
asphyxiated on the floor with my computer screen opened up to a hot fireman. The shame would be
unbearable
. My
poor par
ents would be humiliated and have to lie to everyone about how they found me.

There
’
s no way it could actually be him
. The
irony would be to
o
perfect.
I
have to
look closer
to
confirm
my eyes aren't deceiving me
.
With a sinking feeling
,
I remember him
when he had braces, ugly
sweater vests
, and
too thick glasses.

It
’
s Preston
,
and the memories of
egging his house more than once during high school
hit me full force.
I remember him holding my hand
with those sweaty palms
as he asked me to prom in front of the entire school. Right now the only one with sweaty palms is me!
Oh, no
.
I turned him down.
The sad part is, if he
’
d ask
me now
,
I
’
d
say
yes.

A
t the time
,
it was more important for me to look cool
. So
I said, in front of everyone,
“
T
hanks
,
but I’m already going with my cousin
,
Brad
”
.
I
don’t even have a cousin named Brad
.
Just wait.
It gets
worse
.
H
e
showed up
at
p
rom with his
sister, saw me dancing and kissing another guy, and
,
I’m sure
,
assumed I
probably
wasn’t that close with my family.

Ladies, l
et this be a lesson.
P
e
ople always say
you need to be nice to nerds
,
because you might e
nd up working for them some day.
T
he same goes for nerdy guys who
ask y
ou out
.
Y
ou should be nice to t
hem
,
because one
day they might be smoking hot.

As women
, I
’
m sure we can all
agree
that when we see a man who
se
gorgeous, cut
,
and confident
,
we automatically assume he
’
s arrogant
. So
the natural road to take is search
for the one that
’
s slightly unfortunate looking
with the hope that his personality makes up for any other deficiencies.
We wouldn’t have this assumption if we didn’t have good reason.
Few men are as attractive on the inside as the outside.

One time I dated a guy who
,
for anonymitie
’
s sake, we
’ll call Bob
,
and he was eye candy
. We met at the gym.
Bob and I were running next to each other on treadmills
. His
towel fell off the side of his treadmill
,
and I picked it up. It was love at first sight.

Feel
ing
rather confident
,
I struck up a conversation. He asked for my number
,
and two nights later he called
. We went to a fancy restaurant t
hat weekend, and I fell in love for about five minutes.
He ordered for both of us, without asking. “Yes
, we
’
ll get salad with no dressing, chicken with n
o gravy, and no bread, we don’t
do carbs.”

If you ever want to get in an argument w
ith me, just tell me that I shouldn’t eat carbs. Be prepared, I
’
ll spit in your face.
Maybe not, but the whole low carb mentality
is ridiculous
,
and for me, a deal breaker.
W
hen
I
heard
him say that I
shouted
“
But
wait! I like carbs!”

He gave me a look
I’m guessing he only reserves for fat people
,
and told the waiter that I was “confused” and “please proceed to hold the carbs
”
.

Seething
,
I
went to another tab
le next to us, stole the bread and
ate it right in front of h
im. Now in hindsight, I looked like an insane person.
B
ut for argument
’
s sake
,
let’s
be clear; I was angry at the time. Bob smiled tightly
and never
called again.

Since Preston is hands down the hottest guy I
’
ve ever seen, I doubt he isn’t aware of this fact and uses it with reckless abandon. E
ven
t
hough he was a good guy back in the
day
,
how could he not know he’s “got it” and
knows how to “flaunt” it too
?
With all this revelation
,
I’m bursting with nervous energy, I need a good hard run. Eight o’ clock pm usually means the gym is empty,
and
it
’
s Saturday night. Who goes to the gym on a Saturday night?
Me.
I grab my workout stuff, not b
othering to put on anything remotely
cute, and
run
out the door.

****

T
h
e
air
of the v
alley hits me as I get out of the
car. A mixture of rain and
cold hit my nose. It reminds me of a fresh start
,
which
is exactly
what I need
.
I already feel better
.
Nampa may be sm
all
,
but they have an awesome
rec
center. It
’
s my have
n, but not because of the TVs. They’re great, but it
’
s also right next to my favorite fast food restaurant.
Walking through the doors
,
I inhale the sweet smell of sweat and chlorine and scan my card.

Yes, this is where
I need to be
. There’
s only one other person running
,
and I think he’s going for some record.
If he kee
ps
this ridiculous pace
,
he might actually wear the treadmill out. But something about him seems familiar
. No
,
I can’t
. Why
would I go to the treadmill right next to him when there are
twenty
other ones open
?
We all know how things worked out with Bob
.
I do
n’t
want another man telling me I can’t have bread
.

But upon closer inspection, this man has the best l
egs I
’
ve ever seen.
The f
ormation of muscles that gather a
t his calf and linger up to his
—whoops
, he
just
glanced
this way. L
ook busy. Why did I choose tonight to where my old
,
ratty high school cheerleading shirt? An
d
why did I also choose to wear the yoga pants that I
spilled
paint on last year? I grumbled something out loud
,
not realizing it
,
and jumped onto my treadmill. Five miles
,
here I come
.

As
I run
,
the anxiety
of the day
turn
s
into fuel
,
pushing me harder and faster.
No
,
I don’t need De
rek, I don’t need Bob, I don’t—wait a second.
While closing my eyes
,
I missed something.
Mr.
Runner is coming over to me. Why? W
hat do I do? Oh my goodness
,
he
’
s getting on the machine next to me.
Competition
. Whether
he realizes it or not, he’s in for a race.
Why?
Because I can’t help it
.
I must win
. It’s
also why I never turn down dares
,
but that’s a different story. He starts running
,
and again I feel the pressure to win.
P
lease
. He
may be a fine male specimen, but I
’
m fast, ridiculously fast.

Out of th
e corner of my eye
,
I s
ee
a
subtle
movement
, but I still c
an’t
bring myself to look at his face
.
.
Focusing on my running, my breathing
,
I keep my eyes trained ahead.
His continuing glances feel like silent challenges
,
so
I hit the up button on my speed and
go
to
eight
miles
an
hour,
then
ten
. Now I
’
m sprinting
, and he
’
s spri
nting. He’s running faster
,
so
I push mine up one more time before realizing that my balance
is
momentarily off
. And
yes, you guessed it,
I fly
off of the treadmill into the bench behind me.

“Amanda?”

So this is what happens when you get knocked out
.
You see h
ot men in your dreams
.
Through the haze
,
I see a pair of
stormy
green eyes looking down at me.
Dazed
,
I reach up to
tou
ch the face of my
ruggedly handsome rescuer and
come into contact with warm skin.
My fingers tingle as the man
’s
face breaks into a gentle smile. Not trusting my own voice
,
I sit in silence as the fog begins to clear. The man reaches out to brush some hair from my face. The touch of his fingers send
s
my stomach whirling.

“Wow
,”
I whisper reverently
.
To my horror
,
I realize within
five seconds of opening my mouth
that I’
m not unconscious
. And
the runner next to me
is,
in fact
,
Mr. Fireman Preston himself.

“Wow? What do you mean wow
? Am I supposed to thank you for complimenting me after you raced me to your almost death?”

I didn’t realize I was still staring at his chest until he cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”

“
I
think so
.
I don’t see any blood.” Trying to cover my behavior
,
I say
,
“I don’t know what
happened
.” Liar.

“Oh
,
you mean you don’t remember challenging me to that race just a few minutes ago? Or how about the part where you watched me punch your sorry boyfriend in the face, or maybe—
”

I put
my hand in the air between us to give him a signal to stop talking
.
I mean
,
come on now
,
he’s just being rude
.

“I
’
ll have you know
,”
I interrupt with fists clenched, “that he is
not
my boyfriend.” I
’
m so
close to him that I c
an
smell
the mixture of salty sweat
and cologne
radiating off his body. It
takes
every ounce of
self-control
I possessed not to lean in closer.

“Did you or did you not date him
,
though?” He crosse
s
his
bulky
arms
as if
in challenge.

“Maybe...I mean
…”
N
o words
.
S
ince when do I have no words
?

“You mean, you what?” He
bites his lip
,
drawing my attention to his perfectly sensual mouth
.
It’s every girls dream of what a man
’
s lips should look like up close. Smooth and taunting.
“Amanda
, are
you sure you
’
r
e
okay
?
Y
ou can hardly focus right now
.
Sit down or something
.
You’re
making me nervous.”

He le
a
d
s
me to the bench
, a
s
I
outwardly mock
him
by
copying his words
.
“Y
ou
’
r
e
making me nervo
us
.“
Only I use a really whiny voice making me sound all the more pathetic with my comeback.
“Stop acting like a five year old
,
A
manda
.
I’m not your dad. But I should
punish you for da
ting such an idiot
. Come
on.”
His eyes scan the basketball courts below before again resting on my face.
W
hy can
’t I act like a normal grown up?

“I’m sorry
,”
I mutter
.
“It’s just b
een a long day.”
I shrug
as I
make
eye contact for the first time since this afternoon.

His eyes were sparkling with mischief
.
“I bet
. What
with your boyfriend tr
ying to steal the bride and all.
” H
e isn’t even trying to hide his laugh as I punch him in the side.

“How do you
even know that’s true?”
I shriek not caring that people are now staring at us.
Yelling was
n’
t the wisest choice
, but this m
an
is
ridiculous
. What
gives him the right to judge me?

“Um, sorry to break it to you,
but the entire town knows the story
.
H
e spilled it to everyone when
he went back into the reception. Perhaps
he was hoping for sympa
thy, it
’s
hard
losing not one but two girls in one day.”
His gaze
turns
sympathetic as he
notices
my obvious anger at the idea of Derek telling everyone that we dated.

“I’ll kill him.”

Preston
’
s eyes turn speculative as if he
’
s trying to see if I have it in me to be that violent.
I
twist away
to hide my bluff
. So
I won
’
t kill him
,
but giving him a black eye sure sounds good.

“No you won’t
. H
e’s
just being a stupid guy.” Preston
uses the towel in his hands to wipe his face then throws it onto the bench.
“So
,
figure out who I am yet?”

Why is lying a sin? Desperate for any
other option
but
the truth
,
I weigh
the alternative
,
which of course is lying,
but
I
’
m terrible
at it
.
M
y own cat can tell when I
’m being dishonest
. When I leave on vacation and promise to be right back
,
she just looks
at me and growls.
Any sort of irritated noise
from
Mrs. Butterworth
is far worse than your average housecat
.
S
ince she’s a
S
phinx
,
she has no hair which adds to her charm
,
or lack thereof. However, if she
doesn’t believe me
when I lie, why would Preston?

Gathering my courage
,
I
raise my chin to even the odds
,
but fail miserably as my eyes lock on his chest. Since when did he get so tall? My chin juts out as my eyes slowly rise to meet his piercing gaze.
“Yes
, you
’
re Preston
.
I remember you
from
h
igh
s
chool. Good to see you again
.
Well
,
I should be off
.
I c
ould have a concussion
,
you know.”
My body turns as I mentally tell my legs to pump faster, but to no avail. I sense his presence stalking close behind me, too close for my personal comfort. How is it that I can still smell him?