Exposed: Book One of The Love Seekers Series (9 page)

Me:
Nope. I always thought the guy should ask the girl, and I always wind up tongue tied around guys.

             
Bryan:
You don’t with me.

             
Me:
You’re different.

             
Bryan:
How?

             
Me:
You’re just Mel’s friend.

             
And that’s the way it needed to stay,
I thought to myself. It may not have been the only reason, but it worked sufficiently enough. My crush wanted to grow and flourish. The last thing it needed was any further prodding or encouragement. So I reminded myself of his status, and told myself he would remain safely in the friend zone. By keeping him on FS chat instead of actually talking, I remained distant enough and out of reach. Not that he wanted to reach for me.

Bryan:
Ouch.

Me:
No, it’s just…”

Bryan:
I get it.

Me:
I guess I never had confidence in myself. My sister could get a guy at the drop of a hat, and they would take one look at me and never quite understood how to talk to me or act around me.

Sometimes I wondered if she was right.

Bryan:
She isn’t. I would rather date someone who knew how to use their brain than a complete bimbo.

Shudders.

Me:
Why the military?

             
I decided a change in subject was in order. I needed a break from my situation, from the memories threatening to break free before I found myself back in that bedroom with people laughing at me, teasing me, and my boyfriend doing nothing to stop them. No, not right now. I didn’t want to deal with those memories.

Bryan:
My turn?

Me:
Yep.

Bryan:
Why not? I wanted to serve our country, to fight for it, and protect it.

Me:
And why did you join the Navy?

Bryan:
I grew up near the beach and loved the ocean. It felt like the perfect fit.

Plus there is nothing like racing up into the air and soaring free when I pilot my jet.

Me:
I can only imagine the rush.

Bryan:
It is. I guess I’m a bit of an adrenaline junky too.

Me:
LOL. I can see that.

Bryan:
What about you? What did you do for an adrenaline rush before? What about now?

Me:
I used to skydive.

Bryan:
Wait. Really? You?

Me:
Yeah me.

             
I understood what he meant about soaring free though the sky because I have felt that incomparable feeling whenever I used to skydive. Not many people knew about my penchant for jumping out of planes, especially my family. They would have probably thought I was crazy. However, I actually had several jumps under my belt.

I missed the feeling of the air rushing over your skin and hair, of gazing into the distance and being able to see for miles where heaven met earth. Up in the sky, there was no worries about tests, school, making the grade, or my job. It was me and the feeling of pure bliss. My heart would race, and as I fell back down to earth, my adrenaline would spike and that familiar anxious feeling would arise. I never wanted the feeling or the rush to end.

              But it did.

              After I got sick, I stopped jumping completely and hadn’t been up since. I longed for that experience again, to feel the air whipping past me. Sadly, as much as I longed to soar through the sky again, I understood what the phrase pipe dream meant. Skydiving was my pipe dream.

              My obsession began in college. During the first semester during my Master’s program, one of my friends convinced me to go up in the plane, and then once I strapped myself to an instructor, I fell out of the plane and experienced nirvana. One time and I was hooked. After that, I would save up extra money from my part–time job and jump as often as I could. Of course after graduation and finding a full–time job, I went more often. Up there, I felt free without a care in the world. I was flying.

             
Bryan:
And now?

             
Lost in my own little world, I had left him hanging for several minutes.
Oops.
But what did he mean now?

Me:
Now? Nothing. I write, but haven’t done much with it. That’s not really an adrenaline fix though.

Bryan:
Why not go jumping again?

             
Was this man serious? Did he not understand? His question felt like a slap in the face.

             
Me:
I can’t.

             
Bryan:
Why not?

             
I decided Bryan was either delusional or plain mean. Rubbing my chest where a familiar ache started to form, I pressed my other hand against my eyes in an effort to prevent the tears from falling. When I thought I was more in control, I responded again.

Me:
Hello? MG?

Bryan:
What the hell is MG?

Me:
Myasthenia gravis. In layman’s terms, I’m constantly fatigued and weak. My muscles don’t absorb the chemical from the nerve properly, and therefore, do not work as they should.

It can affect any voluntary muscles in the body. Throat, eyes, legs, arms, mouth, breathing, etc.

Bryan:
Oh.

Me:
Yeah.

             
Now he would realize how broken I really was and bid me farewell like so many others before him. If he didn’t, his gaze would be filled with pity, and I would hate him for that.

             
Bryan:
So why can’t you jump again?

             
Wait! What? Did he really ask that stupid question again? Did he have rocks for brains? Did he like hurting me?

Me:
Because I’m sick.

Bryan:
You have a disease, you’re not dead. You might not be able to land on your own, but you can do a tandem jump with someone. It is possible.

              What? I hadn’t thought of that. A tandem jump? When I first started skydiving, I did several tandem jumps in order to learn how to skydive and then to train. Why hadn’t I thought of a tandem jump? Oh because after MG took over and claimed my body, my life changed and I never considered alternate possibilities for things like skydiving.

              There were other issues though. I struggled to breathe most days, so I didn’t know if they would allow me to go up or not. I’m not on oxygen or anything, but my normal breaths were shallower than normal.

              I would have loved to skydive one more time. To freefall and glide through the air. Nothing beat that feeling.

Me:
I don’t know. Maybe?

Bryan:
You asking me?

Me:
LOL. Maybe.

Bryan:
LMAO. I gtg. Have a date tonight and I need to get ready.

I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Think of more questions little birdy.

              A date? That stung, but I reminded myself that he did not belong to me. We hardly knew each other and lived on opposite sides of the country. His only obligation, if I could call it that, was to advise me on how to get over my little (big) slump. That was all.

Scrunching up my nose after re–reading his comment, I snickered.

             
Me:
Little birdy? :s

             
Bryan:
Yes.

             
Me:
Fine. TTYL.

             
I kind of liked the thought of him calling me little birdy, even if I didn’t know why he did it. The nickname was something between us, something only we shared, and that made me feel special.

              And later that night when my phone chimed with that annoying FS chat alert, I shot up in bed, startled out of slumber, because for some reason my ringer had been turned up to full volume, and squinted at my phone. My irritated expression switched to bewilderment almost immediately. Bryan messaged me. Odd, considering he was supposed to be out on a date.

             
Bryan:
What up?

             
Me:
Uh…nothing. Do you realize it 2am here?

             
Bryan:
It is?

             
A couple of minutes passed and I thought maybe he had decided to disconnect the conversation when he realized how late it was. But that became wishful thinking.

             
Bryan:
Huh. U r right.

             
Me:
Are you drunk?

             
Bryan:
Maybe. LOL

             
Me:
Goodnight.

             
Bryan:
Wait! Bad date. Didn’t even make it past dinner.

             
I rolled my eyes and ran my hand through my hair. In that moment, I knew I was going to ask because he expected it, and because I was curious, even if I wanted to slap him too. Slap or kiss? Both? No. No kissing. I would not allow myself to feel anything for him only to have my heart crushed.

Me:
What grievous sin did she commit?

Bryan:
Slurped her soup and tried to give me a foot job in the restaurant.

Her feet stank.

             
I tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. Curley only lifted his head and dropped it down again, but I was pretty sure my dog shot me a look of annoyance.

             
Me:
Oh, how horrible.

             
Did that sound sympathetic enough? I hoped so because I could not quell my laughter. Good thing he was either drunk or really buzzed.

Bryan:
It was! If u r going to give a foot job, make sure ur feet are nice, groomed, and don’t stink.

Promise me you’ll groom ur feet.

Me:
Got it. I solemnly swear…LOL.

Bryan:
R u mocking me?

Me:
Nope. Not at all. Maybe a little.

Yes. Yes, I am.

Bryan:
I thought so. And here I thought you were my friend
.


Me:
I am, but that shit is funny.

Bryan:
U wouldn’t think so if u had smelled them. Worse than the city dump.

Me:
EWWW!

Bryan:
Now you get me.

Me:
Go to bed.

Bryan:
I guess I do have duty tomorrow at 6am. Will you sing me a lullaby?

Me:
lalalala. There. Now goodnight.

Bryan:
Wait.

Me:
What?

Bryan:
So have u had sex? U hardly dated. Did u ever have sex?

Me:
Goodnight.

Bryan:
Night.

             
Something told me he would probably bring that question up again. Had I? Yes. Good sex? Never. Of the two guys I had slept with, one I didn’t want to think about because it was a painful memory; and the other, I felt nothing going in. Maybe he used a toothpick?

My first experience had not been like people wrote about in books. It hurt emotionally and physically. If possible, I never wanted to think about it again. My second experience had been a little different. He took steroids and acted proud of the fact he juiced, but his dick had shrunk smaller than my hand. Or maybe it had never been that big to begin with. Either way, while my virginity had been taken, my experience in the sex department was lacking.