Single Wide Female: The Bucket List Mega Bundle - 24 Books (Books #1-24) (29 page)

“I’ll make it.”

“Sammy, you shouldn’t work if you’re not feeling well,” he said. “That’s how you get even more sick. Or is it something else?” he asked. “You didn’t cut tacos out of your diet again, did you?”

“No, although I probably should.”

“Okay, so are you going to go home after work and rest up?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I might have something new to try out.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

When I looked up again I realized he had walked back toward me. I did my best not to make eye contact with him. Not that it mattered. Just being alone in the laundromat with Max was enough to distract me. I had folded the same shirt about three times in an attempt to get the sleeves even.

“It means it’s my secret,” I said.

The playful tone of my voice seemed to intrigue him, judging by the look I saw on his face.

“You can’t keep a secret from me.”

His words almost made me burst out laughing. He was right in one sense, I had a hard time hiding things from Max; but he was wrong also, because I had been keeping my crush a secret for quite some time. At least, I thought I had.

“Okay, great detective Max. Let’s see if you can figure it out,” I said.

“It’s probably one of those adventures from that list of yours,” Max said.

“True.” I nodded and finally moved on to the next garment in the pile of laundry.

“Skydiving?” he asked. “Maybe that’s why you don’t want to eat? You don’t want to lose your lunch all over the city?”

I had to laugh. “No, that’s not it.”

“Okay, maybe figure skating?”

“Nope.”

“Mud-wrestling?” he asked. He wiggled his eyebrows a bit.

“Not a chance,” I said.

“Alright, fine, but I will figure it out.”

I could smell the tacos. I was sure that Max had gotten them just the way I liked them—with extra hot sauce.

“Are you sure you don’t want one?” he asked.

“Not right now.”

“Are you feeling alright then?” He took a big bite of his taco.

“I’m fine.” I tried not to look at the taco sauce dripping down his bottom lip.

“I thought you said you were sick?”

“Oh, I meant—well—I’m better now.”

“Alright, Sammy,” he said. He put down his taco and walked over to me. He looked me directly in the eyes. “What is going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like you’re hiding from me or something,” he said. He sighed and shook his head. “If I’ve done something to upset you, just tell me.”

“Oh, Max, it’s nothing you’ve done. I’m sorry to make you feel that way.” I ran my hands through my hair and took a deep breath. “Look, tonight I’m taking a yoga class. I’m just trying to regain some of my peace.”

“Some of your peace?”

“Yes, I need some stability—some solid ground to stand on.”

“I’m not sure where you’re standing, but I’ve got cement under my feet,” Max said. “What’s going on that you feel so out of balance?”

“Max, don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not making fun of you, Sam. I’m trying to understand what you’re saying. Usually you talk to me about these things.”

I thought he looked a bit hurt, and I felt terrible for being the reason he was feeling that way.

“It has to do with you being a distraction,” I said.

My voice was so quiet that I thought he might not hear me, but he must have, because his hand reached out to grasp mine. I tried to hide the shiver that coasted through me when he touched me.

“I’m your best friend. Sammy. I shouldn’t be a distraction,” he said.

“That’s the thing, Max. You’ve been part of my life for so long. But I’m trying to reinvent myself. I’m trying to discover who I actually am, and I just need a little space to do that.” I looked into his eyes, hoping that he would understand.

“You need space from me?” he asked.

“Just some room to blossom,” I said.

I winced as I heard my own words. I knew the conversation was not going well.

“Right, because my friendship is apparently suffocating you,” he said.

His voice had an edge to it. Max was not quick to anger. I had seen him angry only a few times in our friendship, and most of the time it was when he was coming to my defense.

As quickly as he spit out his words he sighed. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair. I know what you’re saying. I’ll give you all the space you need.”

“So you understand?” I asked.

“Look, I care about you. I want what’s best for you. If you think you need some room to grow, I’m not going to stop you. Just don’t forget, I’m here for you, okay?”

He met my eyes intently. I was amazed by his ability to simply get me. How could I not be in love with that?

“Okay,” I said.

“And make sure you eat those tacos,” he said.

With that he turned and walked out of the laundromat.

Chapter 5

As the door closed behind Max, I felt as if he had taken every ounce of oxygen in the air with him. It was hard for me to breathe for a moment. Had I really just asked Max to give me some space? He acted like he understood, but he probably thought I was a nutcase. He was the best thing in my life, and I had just forced him out.

As I struggled to make sense of the emotions that swept through me, the smell of the tacos lingered in the air. I grabbed one out of the paper bag and began chowing down. The only problem was that every bite I took of the taco reminded me of how thoughtful Max was. I felt like the worst friend in the universe. I could only hope that he truly had understood and that I hadn’t hurt him.

As soon as I finished the tacos—which were meant to feed two people—my stomach was a little sore. I immediately regretted eating so much. Once I got started, sometimes I didn’t pay attention to how much I was eating.

I might have been feeling a little anxiety about my encounter with Max.

I walked into the shop to try to get my mind back into focus. I straightened the shelves and displays. Putting things in their proper place sometimes calmed my nerves. It gave me something to focus on rather than getting lost in my thoughts.

I was called back to the dryer when it buzzed. As I folded the clothes, my mind was distant. I was thinking back over how my life had changed since starting the bucket list. It had all been good except for my decision to try my hardest to avoid my feelings for Max. Maybe if we weren’t such good friends it wouldn’t be so hard, but I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like without Max in it.

As I finished folding the last garment from the load, the door swung open. A man stepped inside.

“Hello, welcome to Fluff and Stuff,” I said.

“I’m here for a pick-up,” the customer said.

I nodded and checked the list beside the register.

“Grant?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

I grabbed a coupon and then walked over to the basket of clothes I had just folded.

“Here you go—and remember, all of our return customers get a ten percent discount.”

“Thanks,” he said.

He started to carry the laundry basket out the door. When he stopped in front of the door I wondered if he couldn’t get it open with his hands full. I walked past him and opened the door.

“Here you go.”

“Uh, I think there’s a problem here,” he said.

I really looked at him for the first time. He was what I called the cowboy type. He had hair just to the base of his neck—blonde and slightly dirty. His muscular frame was built from actually doing a labor-intensive job, rather than working out at the gym. He looked up at me with a faint blush in his cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

I peered at his clothes with concern. I didn’t notice any damaged or stained clothes.

“These do not belong to me,” he said. He tugged out a pair of bright orange pants with shiny purple flowers on them. “I mean, I know for certain that these are not mine. Just not my style.”

“No, I guess not,” I said.

I stared at the pants. It was clear that they were mine. However, there was no way they could be. They were tiny.

I took the pants from him. After a quick check to make sure that the dye from the pants hadn’t bled on to any of his clothes, I apologized.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Occasionally garments get left behind and overlooked in the dryer.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” he said. “I’m just glad they’re not mine. They are the ugliest pants that I’ve ever seen.”

I cringed as he walked out the door with his basket of clothes. The pants dangling from my thumb were at least two sizes smaller than they were before. Somehow they must have gotten mixed in with the clothes when I switched them to the dryer. Now I was faced with a serious dilemma. Was I going to wear the tiny hideous pants or was I going to race home and dig out Max’s old sweats?

I set the pants aside and began closing up the shop. My mind was still preoccupied by the pants. I was beginning to think that it was a sign that I was not meant to go to the yoga class that night. Instead, I could go home and put on my favorite show and forget the day ever happened.

Then I thought about how far I’d come on my bucket list—how much progress I’d made. Sure, I could give up and hide, but I didn’t want to make that choice anymore. The new me would see the pants only as a challenge. If I let something as silly as fashion keep me from my goals then how would I ever achieve the other things on my list?

Chapter 6

I decided that I would wear the pants—
if
I could get into them. And I’d go straight to the class. The shirt I was wearing was long and loose enough to help conceal the tautness of the pants. It was one class. I could survive it.

Once everything was settled for the night, I stepped into the back room with the pants. I knew that it was going to be a battle to tug them on. My jeans hit the floor. I began pacing back and forth in just the long shirt that I was wearing. The tiny pants stared up at me from where I had dropped them on the floor.

“Oh, you’re going on,” I said. “You might not like it—and I might not like it—but you’re going on.”

With that, I picked up the pants and slid one foot into one leg. It was a pretty smooth journey at first. It didn’t slow down until it hit my thigh. Then the material began to stretch. It was snug, but livable. Then I tried to get my other leg in.

Stretchy pants can be a death trap if you get your foot tangled, which I, of course, did. My foot stopped about halfway through the leg of the pants. I tried to shove it through but the material only stretched. I began to wobble. With a little hop I tried to keep myself steady. My foot slid down a little but that only caused me to lose my balance more. I felt myself beginning to fall.

There was a wall beside me to catch me. At least there had been when I began putting on the pants. But that little hop had shifted my position. Instead of a solid wall, I struck the emergency exit door. The door popped open, as any good emergency exit door should when someone slams against it, and the alarm that made it an emergency exit began blaring. I struck the ground with my bottom fully sticking out for anyone on the street to see and my foot still tangled in my pants.

Just in case people were too busy to notice my plight, the blaring emergency alarm summoned their attention. I managed to scramble back in the door while tugging and tearing at the pants. I kicked the door shut so that the alarm would stop sounding. Sprawled out and panting on the floor, I became distinctly aware that yoga might not be the best choice of activities for me at this particular moment in time.

Then I thought about Max. Because Max invaded all of my thoughts. I knew I had no choice. I needed yoga to get rid of my addiction to the one man in the entire world that I was certain I would never have.

I pulled myself to my feet. I straightened the eternally tight pants, which were quite snug around the hips. Then I grabbed my purse. With every ounce of pride I could muster—which wasn’t much after displaying my rear end to any and all pedestrians in the vicinity—I walked out of Fluff and Stuff.

With a swift tug to pull my long shirt down enough to cover what my pants might be displaying, I walked toward the yoga class. It was only a few blocks away. Luckily it was dark, so I hoped that not too many people would notice me. But as I was walking down the street, I knew that I was drawing the attention of plenty of people who were walking past.

It wasn’t their fault. I was bright orange with purple stars, and my pants were almost see-through. I didn’t think that I could have looked away if I had seen it myself. But that was also the point of going to yoga.

I wanted to learn to love my body. Not just claim to love it—not just love it when I had it girdled and covered. I wanted to love it for all of the bits and pieces that society claimed were imperfect. I was hoping that yoga would be able to clear my mind of all of the clutter in my head that made me feel not as worthy of love as others.

By the time I reached the address where the class was being held, I was ready to be fully transformed.

I hadn’t really thought too much about what to expect when I walked into the class, but what I found was nothing I would have expected. There was an assortment of people in a small room, each with their own yoga mat. I was pleased to see that the people were all a variety of ages and sizes. If it were not for my sparkling orange pants I might not have stood out.

A man, who I could only assume was the teacher, stood at the front of the room. If I thought my pants were the brightest thing in the room, I was wrong. He was wearing lime green yoga pants matched with a brilliant yellow muscle shirt. I had never seen such a combination of color in my life. When he turned to look at me, he smiled. I liked his smile.

“Samantha?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry for being a little late.”

“Oh, no. You’re never late, Samantha. Wherever you are—well, there you are—in perfection,” he said.

I blinked. The pants that were steadily attempting to cut off all blood flow to my brain were certainly not perfection. But I was in no position to argue with him.

“Okay,” I said. “Where should I set up?”

There wasn’t much room left. The room was more like a small office that the teacher must have rented out in the evenings. I always pictured a yoga studio as bright and airy with floor-to-ceiling windows and maybe a fountain. This was a dusty, rather dimly lit place. There were a few candles burning on a small table against the wall. Soft music was playing from a tiny radio beside the candles. Well, it is free, I thought—all of the community classes were.