“Theyshould.”
“Why? So I can get all freaked out by them? No, thanks. I prefer not to know what grows in mysponge.”
“You use a sponge?” Emma visibly paled as she swallowed back her disgust at my everydayhabits.
“I do. And not only that, but I also fully embrace the ‘five-second’rule.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“That’s nauseating,” she said, covering her mouth in an apparent attempt to keep my airborne spores from invading her sterile space. “What could you possibly gain from eating food off thefloor?”
“It’s not that I actively pull up a rug and dine off the carpet, but if something tasty falls to the ground, I have no problem picking it up and shoving it in mymouth.”
“Oh, so you have standards. Goodforyou.”
I eyed her in amusement. Was she for real? This genuinely bothered her. How adorable. “Of course, I have standards. For example, if I drop broccoli, the floor can have it; but if I drop something like a cookie, I’ll give it a full ten seconds on the ground before blowing on it and gobblingitdown.”
“Ahhh, yuck. You do realize a simple puff of air will in no way clear away all traces ofmicroorganisms?”
“I’m with Finn on this one,” the ticket lady said, injecting herself into our conversation and winking at me. “Who cares about the germs… it’s acookie.”
Exactly! How was that so hard for Emma to grasp? Clearly the redhead had become fully invested in our dispute, and I welcomed her support. Emma? Not so much. Her jaw clenched ever so slightly. I wasn’t sure if she was annoyed that the woman had become a part of our dialogue or that she’d takenmyside.
“Anyway,” – the ticket lady widened her eyes and gave me a look that said,good luck with this one– “We were able to locate the request, but I can’t process it here. A gentleman will be coming to escort you to the office and expedite itforyou.”
“See, I told you,” Emma said, visibly relaxing and physically pulling the fingernail out of my mouth. “Now you can stop munching on your fingers. I’m sure inside the festival walls there’s a tasty corndog lying in the dirt somewhere just waitingforyou.”
I burst out laughing. That sarcastic snark coming from such a polished woman was totally unexpected… and feisty. This Emma chick was all kinds of cool. Suddenly my heart started beating a little bit faster, and my eyes glazed over in a fusion of trepidation and excitement. I knew the feeling well: that shot of adrenalin I got just before performing some dangerous or death defying stunt. Huh? Interesting development. Who would have thought a woman could do the same for me as roofjumping?
Glancing back at the ticket lady behind the table to get her approval on my witty companion, I found that she was busy giving Emma her own thorough eyeinspection.
“So who do you know?” she asked. “It’s got to besomeonebig.”
Although Emma completely ignored the question, it caught my attention. “What do you mean, ‘who do you know’?” Iasked.
Using my past line against me, she said simply, “That’s a second datequestion.”
Emma wasn’t as diplomatic with the woman as she was to me. She shot the redhead a warning glare just daring her to continue with her line ofquestioning.
There she was… my diner diva. Earlier in the day, when I’d first observed her sashaying ass making its way into the diner, my interest in her was nothing more than pure lust. That killer bra-shunning figure, those long giraffe legs, and those bronzed cheekbones that cut slopes across her face had me worked into afrenzy.
She was out of my league, yes, but that was part of her overall appeal. Emma was the woman you tried forjust in case. Yeah, you probably didn’t have a chance in hell, but if you didn’t at least give it a try, you’d be kicking yourself later when you were spending a little extra time in the bathroom that evening. So my plan with her had been simple. Primal. Make contact. Let her know I was interested, ready and willing – just in case, you know, she wanted to goslumming.
What I hadn’t expected upon first contact was an instant and intense attachment. She’d accepted my stare and raised me a thousand. Those eyes, they’d nearly brought me to my knees. It wasn’t so much the striking, almost overcast coloring that did me in; it was the way she looked at me like she’d never seen one of my species before and was fascinated. Her interest in me was clear, yet so was her loathing. It was a unique emotional combination that I couldn’t even hope to comprehend. Either you were attracted to someone or you weren’t, right? I mean, was there any inbetween?
And that’s how the first conversation went down, too… she was an unpredictable play in contrasts, and I was hopelessly hooked and dangling from her line. My overwhelming desire to know everything about her immediately consumed me. I was no ‘instant love’ kind of guy, preferring instead to take it slow and really get to know the woman I was planning to walk through flames for. With Emma, however, I’d surmised in a matter of minutes that a few third-degree burns wouldn’t be such a high price to pay to get herattention.
Unfortunately, Emma didn’t see it my way, and swiftly kicked me to the curb before any permanent damage could occur. Still, it pained me all the same. Rejection wasn’t something I experienced often. Usually women approached me, and if I wasn’t interested, it became my job to let them down gently. No one would ever describe Finn Perry as a cocky asshole. I was a classic pleaser, always putting everyone else’s thoughts and feelings before my own. It was a personality trait I both loved and hated. Nothing upset me more than people thinking I was a jerk; but at the same time, being nice and accommodating tended to attract the bloodsuckers. I was an easy mark for the right parasitic female. Maybe that’s what drew me to Emma. I needed her more than she needed me. In fact, I was apparently the last thing she wanted, and damned if that didn’t light a fire undermyass.
Being turned away from the Sun Desert Music Festival main gates was like shoveling shit on top of an already overflowing pile of manure. The day had officially spiraled too far out of control to ever be salvaged. Or so I thought. How could I have predicted that my dream woman would appear on the horizon, driving an icebox on wheels, and proclaiming in that raspy, sexy voice of hers that she could perform miracles? And then, by the powers invested in her, she’d delivered on her promise. Emma. My savior. My Ticketmasterqueen.
I was still trying to make sense of the incredible reversal of fortune. This woman had not only handed me a ‘get out of jail free’ card by getting me into a sold-out concert, but she’d also pitched the luxury VIP ‘Park Place’ package while she was at it. Who the hell was this fictional Emma character and what had she done with my crap-fest of a day? I’d been simmering in a warm, steamy pile of dog poo, when down swooped Malibu Barbie to spray Febreze all over myshittyday.
“Those shuttles, do they drop off at the festival?” Emma asked the now-subduedticketlady.
“Yes, they leave every tenminutes.”
