“What’s so funny?”
Carly Gorski was another straggler, but she had special dispensation since she was my closest friend in Wismer. As usual she was way more dressed up than she needed to be, perfectly turned out from her perky brown lob to her patent leather loafers. It was a little weird having her in class, especially because she constantly tried to throw me off my game by making faces every time I glanced at her. She considered her adorable taffy-colored terrier mix, Geneva, a milestone in her march toward convincing her husband, Joe, to finally buy a house. The townhouse they’d been renting since they’d moved to Wismer a few years prior didn’t have a yard, so she could blame Geneva for “needing” to upgrade to a home with grass.
“Chelsea is making adult jokes,” Paula said, slowly bending over to pet Geneva, not noticing that Ivan was turning upside down in her arms as she got lower.
“Paula, watch out for—” I said, gesturing toward Ivan, who was probably punchy and irritable after an extended period of being social. Not that I blamed him. By the time I walked out the door at the end of each day my forced extrovert persona was fraying along the edges.
Ivan erupted in a chorus of barks, causing Paula to jump away with surprising agility.
“Woopsie! I think someone needs to go to bed.” She placed a gentle hand on Ivan’s head. The little dog was well on his way to living up to his Russian czar namesake.
I nodded. “Class is fun for them, but it can be overstimulating. We want to keep his experiences positive so we should probably wrap up for tonight.”
“You’re right, as usual.” Paula chuckled and headed for the door. “Until next week, my dears!”
The second Paula was out of earshot Carly turned to me with eyes wide. “Um, who’s your new neighbor?”
Right. I hadn’t told her about Andrew. It had been two days and the only reminders of him were the trash bags piled next to the dumpster. Well, that and the still-aching wrist thanks to Dude. It had taken everything in my power not to march over and tell him to use his massive shoulders to lift his trashintothe thing, but I opted to give him a little grace since he was just moving in.
If they were still there by Friday I’d have no choice but to say something.
Carly was studying me like she was waiting for gossip. I waved my hand as if the fact that Andrew had moved in was no big deal, when it was, in fact, the biggest of deals.
“His name is Andrew. I used to know him at school, sort of.You know my friend Samantha I always talk about? Andrew and her husband, Nolan, were roommates, so we were forced to hang out in college. He moved here and he’s opening a gym or something.”
“Is he single?” Carly cocked her head at me and wiggled her eyebrows. She knew that I was in no mind to even consider dating, yet she never stopped trying in a good-natured, pushy, I’m-doing-this-for-your-own-good kind of way.
“Don’t know, don’t care. He was a bit of a meathead.”
“Wow, judge much?”
It was just like Carly to call me on my b.s., but she didn’t understand my history with Andrew. Sure, I’d always been quick to try to knock him down a few pegs, not because I wanted to, but because Ihadto. With Andrew, I had no choice but to be on the defensive. I’d always forced myself to ignore my embarrassing involuntary response to him—that seasick, racing heartbeat, shaky hands feeling—because whenever we were together his “jokes” didn’t stop, and I was his favorite target.
“It’s a long story,” I replied.
“And what’s wrong with being a meathead?” Carly asked. “Because have you seen him?”
I didn’t want to admit that, yeah, I’d seen him plenty. Not around the building, but in my dreams, when I was powerless to resist him. The one where all my teeth fell out and landed in his open palm had me especially freaked out.
“Trust me, I’msonot his type. Not that I’d want to be,” I hastened to add. “And I have nothing in common with him.”
I also had nothing in common with the type of no-beauty-filter-necessary women he usually went for.
“That’s not always a bad thing,” she mused as she gave Geneva a treat. “Opposites attract, you know.”
“We’re not opposites, we’re... I don’t know, I can’t explain it.” I huffed. I was too tired to get into all of the Andrew Gibson red flags. I knew I’d eventually be forced to tell Carly about how he’d always made me feel like I was an alien specimen he was studying under a microscope.
Except for that night, the one glaring exception in the Gibson/Higgins war.
Carly opened her mouth to be her contrary self but we were interrupted.
“Excuse me, do you have a minute?”
I turned to find class wallflowers David Taplin and his dog, Edith the Boston terrier, standing a few feet behind us. David kept to himself during class while tiny Edith opted to sit beneath his chair the whole time. I could tell she wasn’t scared, but she had no desire to join the mosh pit with the rest of the pups, and that was perfectly fine. If anyone understood the need to hold back and analyze a scenario it was me, so I never forced any of my students to make friends if they weren’t feeling it. I knew that Edith was learning plenty just observing the melee. And the fact was, most shy pups eventually found their way out onto the dance floor by the time our classes ended. Sniffed a few butts, popped a few play bows, and then went on to become perfectly well-adjusted adult dogs.
“I’m gonna run,” Carly said, glancing at David, then widening her eyes at me. She scooped Geneva up off the floor. “Text me later.”
I knew I had to wait at least until the next day to reach out to avoid a continuation of the Andrew inquisition.
