I’m usually very good at ignoring other things and focusing on my work. But today, knowing that I get to spend time with Eila Storm later, I’m distracted. I’m missing important things. Back at the office for a meeting, my attention is drawn to my co-worker Ulrich, who rolls a shiny metallic coil between his brown fingers the entire time our boss talks about zoning regulations and updates to building codes.
I normally enjoy updates to building codes. I find it soothing to pore over the details, to think about all the pieces that have to work in harmony for a building to function at its best. Not many people appreciate the importance of good ductwork, but I view it as the lungs of a building.
Except today. Today I can only stare at Ulrich’s hands twirling that metal, thinking how close it is in color to the dark red of Eila’s lips, how nicely it contrasts to the dark curtain of her wild hair.
Ulrich snaps his fingers in my face, realizing I’ve been staring, the meeting is over, and we’re the last ones in the room. “Sorry,” I mutter, gathering my notepad. “Didn’t mean to stare.”
“Am I gonna have to catch you up later or did you catch any of that?”
I wave a hand. I can read the files online later. Not after work, obviously, because I’m going to Eila’s house. But sometime soon. I watch as he slides the distraction back in his pocket. “What is that thing, anyway?”
“This?” He pulls it back out and holds it in his palm. “I think I took this from my kids last week. They were fighting over it. I think it’s one of those fidgets.”
“Fidgets?”
He nods and slips the coil onto his finger like a ring. I see that it’s not rounded but, rather, spiked. “Kids today mess around with crap like this or those spinner things. It’s supposed to help them focus on school or something.” He holds it out between his thumb and forefinger, and I reach for it, stretching the pointy spring onto my own finger. “Now you’re supposed to roll it up and down. I don’t know, I thought it felt weird.”
As I move the red fidget ring I nearly gasp. For as long as I can remember, I’ve preferred this type of touch—rough, with a bit of a bite to it—rather than anything gentle. To me, a soft hand is like nails on a chalkboard to others. But this? “It’s nice,” I tell Ulrich.
“Hurts so good, eh?” He claps me on the back. “Keep it. My wife tells me she has an entire sack of them. Not sure why my kids thought it was worth beating each other to death over the red one.” He walks out of the room, leaving me alone to marvel at the fidget ring. I start to wonder if I could wear ten of them, just jab right through the calloused skin on my hands to offer the perfect amount of stimulation.
I slide it into my pocket before I head to my next project, and I spend the rest of the day grabbing it whenever I feel my attention wander. It’s like a small alarm clock or something. Marvelous.
After work, as I gather the printed forms Eila will need to fill out her applications properly, I slide the ring back on. I worry it up and down each finger incessantly as I drive toward her house, mount the inadequate stairs to her front door. Only when I raise my hand to knock, do I see the ring and think that it might be considered odd. I’m sticking it back in my pocket, wishing I had a loop or lanyard for it or something to prevent me losing it, when I hear Eila calling to me from the lot next door.
“Hey, Ben. I’m over here trespassing. You want to wait there or come help me finish watering?”
I adjust my collar and stare at her, lugging a hose from her own back yard to the rows of plants she’s cultivated in what I’m certain is lead-filled soil. This negotiation with her is not going to be easy. I can’t explain why I’m taking this on. What is it about the toned calves sticking out above her rain boots, leading up to trim thighs and cut-off jean shorts and…holy shit.
Eila wears a faded, cropped, ripped tank top that barely covers anything. She sprays the hose on the plants as if she is totally unaware that the water splashes back onto her chest. It’s like a scene from the porn DVDs my high school classmates used to watch in their parents’ basements. I never saw the appeal at the time, but now…
Now that there’s a real woman in front of me shaking her hair in the sun, watering her illegal garden, half naked. I sink to the porch steps, not knowing what will happen if I approach her. Not even the fidget ring calms me down and I try to stare straight ahead while Eila works. She didn’t invite me to ogle her. I’m here to try and win her over.
I remind myself she’s not just the most attractive woman I’ve ever seen in real life. She’s got an energy about her, a fierce tenacity, and a sense of confidence. I’m drawn to her, like a gnat to flypaper. I have to remember to be careful. I already told her how I feel. She has all the power right now.
Eventually, she winds up the hose and stalks toward me through the too-tall grass, a half-smile teasing her lips. She wipes her hands on her thighs, and I can see streaks of water running through the dirt all over her. She must not mind walking around filthy. Just the thought of feeling all that muck ordinarily makes me shiver, but there’s something about seeing the dirt streaked on Eila that makes me want to scrub her clean with my bare hands. “Well, Benny, it’s stinking hot inside. Where should we go to work on this?”