I start walking toward the stairway and can feel my heart literally trying to pound its way through my breastbone. Beating in tandem with each step I take.
Up left. Up right.
Up left. Up right.
Stone is keeping pace directly behind me, and I feel super self-conscious about it. I don't like for people to walk directly behind me. Especially men. Mainly because I'm not a small girl. There's nothing petite about me. Hence the nickname, Tiny. An obvious play on words. Even my fingers are the sizes of Vienna sausages thanks to some sort of recessive trait that my maternal great-grandmother passed on to me.
It definitely doesn't help that I'm wearing my weekend leggings. You know the pair. Not the ones with enough firm spandex to suck you in all the right places, but rather the super comfy pair that you wear around the house to watch TV in. The pair I have on right now are boring, blue, cotton ones that I picked up from Walmart on clearance. They do absolutely nothing for my butt, but they sure feel good when I'm binge watchingSupernatural.
Stone doesn't say a word as he follows me up the stairwell. He's either transfixed or grossed out by the gelatin-like jiggle of my butt cheeks. I must admit that they can be a startling sight. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of my ass in the mirror when I'm getting dressed in the morning and wonder when did all of "that" jiggle happen to me. It just kind of appeared out of nowhere. Or maybe years of eating brownies and vanilla ice cream for dessert have something to do with it.
As I move closer to the top of the second floor, the quiet between us becomes so unsettling, that I feel the need to fill the empty space with words.
"Do you remember visiting here as a kid?"
I realize how stupid the question is after it flies out of my mouth, but I didn't know what else to say, so I wait patiently for his response. Dying for him to talk to me about anything at this point. Distracting him from my gelatin butt.
"I remember."
"I kind of remember too. I think our parents made you babysit me a couple of times. What are you four or five years older than me?"
That was dumb to say too. Do I really want to remind him of the nerdy kid I used to be? No, I want him to see me as the woman that I am today. Smart. Accomplished. A good daughter. Actually, scratch all of that.
He's been in jail for five years. Who am I trying to impress? Plus, I'm sure that Stone doesn't give two craps about anything right now except for a hot meal and a warm bed. Hell, I was in jail for four hours and that's all I seem to want. I'm sure he has a lot more things on his mind that are way more important. Struggles that I can't even fathom.
"So here it is," I say stopping in front of the bathroom. "I left a clean towel and washcloth for you on the counter. I'm pretty much a neat freak, so don't worry about having to clean or anything," I say babbling like an imbecile. "And I'm sorry about the flower wallpaper in here. Maybe Dad can change it to something more neutral when he gets a chance."
Stone stares at me with the oddest look on his face. If I had to guess, I'd say it's a cross between wanting to puke and wanting to shake me senseless.
"There's nothing that you need to apologize to me about."
"I'm sorry–"
"I asked you to stop apologizing." His voice grows deeper and firmer.
I clamp my mouth shut, because I swear I was just about to apologize for apologizing.
"I need to go check on my soup. You come down when you're ready," I say and then head full speed ahead down the steps. I think I even skipped a couple of steps trying to get away from him as fast as I could.
He watches me as I scamper away. Probably trying to make sure I don't fall flat on my behind again. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, Bottle is patiently waiting for me with a sloppy lick on the back of my hand. This gesture only assures me that I must be a complete basket case. Bottle only licks me calmly when I'm the one who's anxious or angry. She has a knack for always sensing my energy. She should have been a therapy dog.
I wasn't expecting this.
But something about this guy makes me step back in a virtual time machine and become a total dweeb again. I look like a straight-up amateur. Like I've never had a conversation with a hot as sin man before. Like he can smell the "virgin" on me.
It's bad enough that I didn't even want him here and what has started out as a sucky day has now officially turned into the worst day ever.
Of course, it doesn't take Nathaniel Carter akaColumbolong to take notice.
* * *
