Second hour is foreign language. Though it’s impractical, l enrolled in French, my one academic indulgence. The language is beautiful and romantic, and I cannot help myself. Surprisingly, the class size is not that many, another fact I love. I grab a seat and open my French book with much anticipation, smiling at all the beautiful foreign words I will soon learn the correct pronunciation of.
The second bell rings just as Mudpie Mojo walks in the door. You’ve got to be kidding me. Double whammy. I’m studying the most romantic language ever with the default object of my affection. Freaking fire balls.
My imagination kicks into overdrive.. Oliver and I enjoy a wonderful evening, sitting outside a café in Paris, sipping our tea. The springtime air surrounds us with the scent of flowers in bloom as the gentle sounds of a violin fall upon our ears. The city of Paris is alive. There is love in the air...
Someone kicks my chair. I whip around to catch a smirking Mudpie Mojo, aka hot French boy, as if being All-American wasn’t enough already. “You going to answer roll call, girlie?”
“Present,” I call out. The teacher looks at me again.
“And will you be known as Katie, or would you like to choose a French name for this hour?”
“Um, I’d like to give that some thought. May I get back to you please?” I get out my phone and start looking up names. I raise my hand. “I would like to be called Simone.” All hour long, I feel his foot on my chair. Why this gets to me, I can’t say. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it though; just like I can’t let him know the closeness of his proximity keeps me in a constant state of hyperawareness that drives me bonkers.
Right before the hour is over, he must’ve raised his hand because my teacher gives him a nod. “I’d like to be Jean Paul,” floats past my Oliver-honed-in ears. I wonder how long it took him to figure out Jean Paul and Simone were an item in French history. He was probably creepin’ on my Internet search. I’m a little flattered.
The next hour is advanced math. Here comes Mr. Wonderful again. And he sits behind me again. The same thing happens throughout the rest of the day. Oliver shows up every hour and plops his hottie self down right behind me.
I’m relieved when I get to the last hour, gym class. I miss being active since I’m out of sports, and I need to let out some stress. However, with my overly enthusiastic sweat glands, I didn’t want PE until the end of the day. I change for weights and yank on my clothes. I stand up, feeling bare. This can’t be right. I jump in front of the mirror, mortified. Instead of my old red Dawgs tee from my last school, I have on a half shirt that reads “Foxy Mama.”
This is my mom’s shirt! I frantically search through my gym bag but come up empty.
I exhale slowly and whisper to the mirror, “When in doubt, Let Emma Stone Out. Go full-on baller. Own It, Katie. You can do this.” Holy cannolis. Why did this have to happen to me, and on the first day of gym class? I’m the last one to exit the girls’ locker room. I feel a glare and look up to catch little miss Red, I-hate-you-with-the-fire-of-a -thousand-suns, in my PE Class. Wonderful. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Of course, standing right next to her, making matters worse, is my Mudpie Mojo, Oliver, who tries hard not to laugh at my mishap. His hand covers his mouth. I repeat my mantra in my head, “Own It, Own it, Own It, Own It…” as I straighten up to my full six feet.
“Alright, everybody. Partner up.” The teacher announces as his eyes narrow at me. “Just so you know, this isn’t half-shirt Tuesday, and that’s not the best attire for gym class.” He turns on Oliver. “Are you deaf, Oliver? Where’s your partner?”
Oliver stares me down. “I got Foxy Mama,” he says as he raises an eyebrow. Oh No. I want to die right now. I want the floor to open like a giant Florida Sink hole and I want to fall into it and be swallowed by the earth, sending me to some other stratosphere where I can float around like an astronaut, looking for life on another planet, being weightless in my white suit and bubble helmet, floating around picking space daisies…
“Foxy Mama? Are you in there?” I snap back to reality.
Mudpie Mojo posts up next to me and waits for more instructions from the gym teacher. He stands so close his burning fingertips brush my arm. I almost trip over my feet to escape his touch. I get a strange look from Mr. Smit, but it doesn’t stop my muttering. “Just get through the hour, Katie.”
Mr. Smit frowns in Oliver’s direction. What’s that about? “Alright, everybody. To make things easier for me, your partner today is your partner for the rest of the year.” I hold in a groan. Mr. Smit might as well be a medieval sadist.
I can’t believe I’m stuck with Oliver for a whole year. I glance over at Oliver who looks all pleased with himself. He soo knew. I look back to Mr. Smit and try to focus.
“Go ahead and get into your routine. You all are seniors now, so you shouldn’t need a lot of guidance. I’m just going to sit over here and drink my coffee. Let me know if you have any questions. You all know the rules. No cursing. No horsing around. Respect the equipment.”
Oh crap. I may have missed half of what he said. No worries, I’ll just follow Oliver’s lead, which should be no problem, except that I can’t seem to think straight whenever we’re in the same room. We start our stretching. I feel him looking, but I ignore him. I tell myself not to look back, which is hard. The dude is seriously ripped. His skin is perfect. His teeth are perfect. His butt is perfect. Butt? Stop looking there, Katie. Shame on you!
Finally, we’re done stretching. It looks like we’re bench pressing. Oliver unloads weights from the bar. Seriously? What kind of weakling does he think I am? “Leave em’ on,” I growl.
He raises his eyebrows at me and gestures for me to take the bench. I eye the bar and the weights. I’ll lift it if it kills me. I’ll show him I’m not a weak, simpering female. I lay down. He stands over my head, waiting to spot me. I ignore him as best as I can. Satisfaction fills me as I lift the bar to do my bench presses. Sore muscles that scream for a tub already call out to me in warning, but pride keeps my mouth shut. I bite my lip to hold in the grunt as I lift. I breathe easy when I drop it back in place. Oliver smiles down at me. “Not too shabby for a Foxy Mama.” I fight the urge to pound his jewels into smithereens with my closed fist.
He’s next, and I can only imagine what a fool he’ll make of himself. What is it about weight rooms that turns every guy into their own version of King Kong? Oliver makes a big show of adding more and more weight. What an idiot. I totally can’t spot him if he drops this on himself, and he should know this. He lays down on the bench. I stand over him, spotting. He looks up at me like a perv. “You going to stare at it all day or you gonna lift it?” I snap.
“Hey. I’m just enjoying the view of a Foxy Mama,” he says before he laughs.
“Look, it was a mistake, alright? I grabbed my mom’s shirt. So…whatever.” I’m so annoyed right now.
“Alright, alright. Simmer down. Just giving you crap.” He takes a deep breath. He grabs the bar. I get lost in his biceps.
I float away… We are on a ship and he is a pirate. I’m a damsel in distress, taken captive. We are in love, but my father has forbidden it. I run away with my fierce pirate, and he calls out to me, Katie! Katie!
I snap out of it and look down. Oliver’s face is red. The bar sits on his chest. His face is reddish purple. I grab both sides. “Lift!” I cry. Oliver pushes up as hard as he can as I lift with all I’ve got. Together, we put the bar back. His chest heaves, and his face is still bright red. I’m pissed off and scared. “I swear! You guys and your stupid caveman ways. Me Oliver. Me lift heavy bar. You Woman. Be impressed.” I stomp off to the water fountain.
I’m leaning over drinking when I feel his hand on my hip. I brush him off. “Keep your hands to yourself!” He stares at me as he slowly removes his hand as if in slow mo.
“So, where’d you go?” He looks genuinely concerned, but this just makes mad.
“What do you mean, where’d I go? You found me, didn’t you? I’m getting a drink. Is it against the law to leave gym class?”
“No. I mean earlier. When I was choking myself with the dang bar. You were like, off somewhere else. You…have like silent seizures or something?”
Wow. “No! I’m not an epileptic.”
“Okay. It’s just like.. like you weren’t there, you know?” I’m all kinds of irritated and embarrassed.
“Well, excuse me if I’m not totally enthralled with your hot body and your bulging biceps while you lift weights. Maybe I don’t like being so close to a stinky, sweaty, egocentric guy.”
I just insulted him and he’s grinning? “So you think I’m hot?”
“Wow. So that’s all you got out of my statement? Maybe I think you think you’re hot. That’s what I’m saying.”
“Yeah. But that’s not what you said, you said I’m hot. That’s what you said.”
I’m so frustrated. “Why are you talking to me, anyway? I mean, where’s your little cupcake-shop girlfriend? Why aren’t you following her around?” I glare at him. “Or what about corn-can-crashing-closet-girl?”
He looks confused. “I don’t have... you mean my sister? I was at my sister’s birthday party. She’s not my girlfriend. You think I would date someone that young?”
I’m still processing what he just said. “I don’t know you from the man in the moon, Oliver. I have no idea who you’d date, only that you must not be that discriminating since you dated that ferocious hyena.”
He snorts. “Hyena! Ease up, Katie. Damn. How was I supposed to know she’s crazy jealous? Besides, she is the head cheerleader.”
I wave my hands. “Oooh, head cheerleader. You should be so proud.” I hate myself, but I’m on a roll, and jealousy can be pret-ty ugly. “Why don’t you get a personalized sweatshirt to wear? One that says I dated the head cheerleader.”
He scowls at me. “Wow. Somebody’s bitter.” He has a daring look on his face. I have no choice but to not react. I’m determined to be indifferent from here on out. “I ain’t gotta explain my girlfriend choices to you before we even met.” He looks at me, as if he wants an answer. I give him nothing. “Whatever.” He looks all angry. Good. Maybe he’ll back off.
I smirk. “This was such a nice talk, Oliver. I’m just gonna go now and tell the teacher we want different partners. I don’t think you want to be around me any more than I want to be around you.”
Oliver puts a hand to his chin and peers up at me beneath dark lashes that are seriously enviable. “I never said I didn’t want to be around you. I think I’ll stick with my partner choice.” His lips curve into a sexy Saturday night smile once more.
Ugh. There’s no escape. “Why do you want to be my partner? All we do is argue.”
“Maybe I like arguing with you. Maybe you’re different from any girl I’ve met. Maybe I want to know you more.”
He’s leaning in my space again. I push on his chest. “Back off, Romeo. I never said I was interested. Let’s just get back to weight class.” I jog back in the gym.
“Coming, Jul-i-et.” He calls out to me, and I hate the smile that pops up on my face. He’s as loony as I am.
We finally finish gym class. I’m sooo sore. I can’t wait for the bathtub and my bath bombs. I grab my stuff and go find JuneBug. We head to the parking lot and climb up in my dad’s big truck.
I look over at her. “How was your first day?”
JuneBug shrugs her shoulders. “Alright I guess. No new hot guys. So same as usual.” I wonder at JuneBug’s grin as she stares past me.
I turn to the tapping on my window. I groan as I see a very familiar, devastatingly handsome face. Now what. I roll down my window. “What!”
Oliver looks a little sheepish. “Could you give me a jump?” I look over at JuneBug. Her big blue eyes sparkle at me.
She gives me an eyebrow raise. “Yeah, Katie, can you jump him?”
I smack her. “Shut up, you perv.” I turn back. He’s still standing there, starin’. “What’s up with your car? It was running fine the other day.”
“She’s my baby, but she’s just like a woman. She blows hot and cold for no apparent reason.” Oliver gives me a cheesy grin. I wish I didn’t like it so much.
“You want my help or not?” I growl back at him.
He gives a decisive nod. “Most definitely.”
I jerk my head at him. “Take a snoop in the back. There should be some cables. I’ll pop the hood.”
His face lights up. He has a great smile. “Thanks!”
I pop the truck hood. He attaches the cables. “Okay, Start ‘er up.” I start up the truck, and it isn’t long before his Scout starts, too. He tosses the cables in the back of the truck and gives me a thumbs up.
JuneBug and I drive out of the lot. I feel her stare. It’s like she’s trying to see the inside of my brain.
I can’t take it anymore. “What?”
“You gotta be kidding me. The guy is soo into you! Do you have any idea how lucky you are? Most girls would kill to have him chasing them!”
It’s been a long day. “I’m not sayin’ I don’t like his attention, but I just got here, and it’s a new school, and I like to keep my options open. I haven’t even met any other guys here yet. Besides, I didn’t ask Oliver to chase me!” My heart races, betraying me.
“What did he do that’s so terrible?”
I roll my eyes. “What didn’t he do is more like it? He’s in all of my classes except for one. There’s no escaping him.”
JuneBug flips out in the seat beside me. She’s like a human bouncy ball. “No freaking way! You know what that means, don’t you? He works in the office. That means he stalked you. He changed his schedule to match yours That is Butterfinger sweet!”
I don’t want to burst her bubble, but this can’t be right. “No way. I bet it’s just a coincidence. He wouldn’t do that.”
She shakes her head side to side. “I don’t know, Katie. I mean, Oliver’s like the real deal. No faking. And, when he wants something, he’s goes after it. And right now, it looks like what he wants is you.”
Her words don’t give me any comfort. “Well, I don’t know if I want to be caught.”
She just laughs. “Well, you could do a lot worse. I hear he’s a great boyfriend, like, in every way.” Judging by the way he kisses, I’m sure she’s right. I drop JuneBug at her house and rush over to work at the cupcake shoppe. I decide to be Princess Jasmine today. I just need to find that magic carpet…
Mom texts. “Katie. Where are you? How was your first day?
I hit her back. “At work. I work 4:00-7:00 p.m. Monday-Friday.”
“Got it. C ya tonight. Can’t wait to hear everything about your first day.” Oliver fills my head the rest of the day. At least the shop is quiet.
The Shoppe isn’t near as interesting at the end of the day as it is in the beginning, but it’s kind of nice to have the mind-numbing job of cleaning; and it gives me a feeling of accomplishment to see the floors and glass all sparkly before I go home.
Mom and I visit at the table. She’s such a great listener. “I really like my classes, and I lucked out with gym being the last hour. So no going through the day all sweaty or whatever. So yeah, I’d say it’s going to work.” Except for the dimply hottie tormenting me every hour with his delicious presence. He may as well be Andrew Garfield to my Gwen in The Amazing Spider-Man, because I’ve definitely been bitten...
“Katie?”
“Oh, sorry. I was lost in thought. Yeah, so Ms. Dante, my yearbook teacher, has asked me to be one of the school photographers and I’m pretty psyched about that. I mean, remember at my old school, I took that semester of photography and the teacher told me I have an eye for the camera?”
After supper, I go upstairs and spend a few hours studying; mostly ignoring my buzzing phone, but it keeps up. I flip it over and send JuneBug a pic of my book. “Studying.”
Later, I allow myself social media time. I scroll through JuneBug’s Instagram and Twitter page. The girl changes her status like 3-4x a day. My status hasn’t changed in at least a month. I return to the animal shelter pages again. I’ve got to start doing some serious work on my mom. I want a dog sooo much. We never had one. Dad always said no because of all our traveling we did with my sports, but things are different now. A dog would be a great companion for my mom. And it would make me feel better knowing she has someone to watch over when I go off to college.
My phone vibrates. It’s Mudpie Mojo! I drop him on the bed. How did he find me? I bet it was JuneBug. What do I do? I open it, expecting to see his gorgeous face. It’s flowers! Awww. My cool exterior thaws a little. It’s just not fair.
I google a pic of flower petals flying everywhere and share it with him. He sends me a crying emoji. I send him a cracked heart. I giggle to myself and feel a blush coming on. This has got to stop. I lay my phone down and decide to go for a run. I’m sore from weights, but maybe if I do some serious running, my mind will go completely blank.
Yoga pants and sports bra are my go-to. I send a snap to JuneBug. “Goin’ for a run.”
She sends me a close-up pic of her nose and stud ring. “Running makes my nose hurt. You’re crazy.”
“And you think I’m weird,” I answer.
I put in an Airpod and stretch a bit. “I’m going for a run.” I text Mom.
“Katie! I hate texting in the house. Take your phone for safety,” she hollers. My phone fits in the side pocket of my yoga pants along with the pepper spray. I crank my tunes in my one ear as I head out the front door. My other ear is Airpodless so I can listen to my surroundings. It’s good to always be aware.
Though I can be ungraceful and clumsy when walking, I have no troubles with anything athletic. Sports and grace go together for me. I’m fluid motion on a field, a completely different person. Before too long, I hit my stride; I’ve always been an easy runner. Fortunately, the streets all have streetlights. I feel nothing but joy as my feet hit the pavement. Energy flows as it races through my body.
I’m about to the turning point of heading for home, halfway done with my workout, when I round a curve. I run smack into a very solid someone. Down we go, a tangled mess of limbs, rolling around on the ground. I’m holding my nose with one hand, which really smarts as it got bumped mid-collision. Somehow, I end up on the bottom. I’m all prepared to knee my attacker in the groin when I look up into the beautiful familiar face of Oliver.
Of all the people to run into, why’d it have to be him? I can’t deny that this is the second time in the same day I’ve run smack into him. At this exact moment, it feels like the universe is pushing us together.
Surprise is written all over Oliver’s face. It has to be. It’s too real. He advances slowly, almost asking permission. This is not a good decision. I don’t wave him away. I don’t do anything. I just lie here, patiently waiting as he teases me. I feel his breath on my lips, but he won’t close the deal. He’s waiting for me to come to him, but I refuse.
He hovers for what feels like an eternity. This is ridiculous. I’ve had enough.
It’s not an easy task, but I flip him on his back. Now I’m on top. Ha! I sit on top of him and lean down toward his face. I grab his collar. I follow my instinct and plant one on him. His hands grab my waist and I know I should stop this madness, but at this moment, I just can’t. My body betrays me as my knees squeeze into his hips.
My one hand snakes behind his neck. The other cradles the side of his face. I brush his ear on the way to his hair. Our kiss grows deeper and longer. We’re both pretty fired up when I regretfully pull away. I don’t get up. I sit here with my hands on his gloriously rock-solid chest.
He clears his throat. He’s breathing hard, and that makes me feel good. “What are you doin’ on my street?”
I scoff. “Your street? I didn’t see your name on it. I was just going for a run.”
He gives me a measured look. “For reals?”
“Yes. For real. I wasn’t looking for you.” Let that sink in, pretty boy.
“Well, then, what are you doin’ out so late running by yourself? It’s not safe, you know.”
I laugh. “I could totally ask you the same thing, Ol-i-ver. You think because I’m a girl, I can’t run late at night?”
“Well, I don’t like the idea of you doin’ that by yourself. I don’t care what that makes me. You gotta be smart. Facts don’t lie. Women are in more danger of bein’ attacked than men. It’s just the way it is.”
I sigh. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. It’s just been a long day. Not a bad day, but a long one.” And now it’s even longer since I’ve run into the one thing I’m running from, my crush.
“What do you think of our school so far?” Do I hear hope in his voice?
“It’s alright. I think I like it. And I suppose it doesn’t hurt that I met this super-hot guy the first day of school and he was super helpful.” Oliver draws designs on my calves with his fingers. It’s deliciously distracting.
He grins. “Oh yeah? Tell me more about this super-hot guy.”
I think this is flirting. I know it’s really fun. I draw on his chest with my fingers. “Well, his name is Pierre, and he’s a foreign exchange student…”
Oliver frowns and flips me back underneath him. “That was cold. And I’m pretty sure we don’t have a guy named Pierre at our school.”
I giggle. “I know, I just had to get you going.”
He growls and my tummy flips. “Oh. You got me goin’ alright.” He kisses me again, but this time he’s in control. I can’t think to move or get my bearings, but I. Don’t. Care. He finally lets up. I turn my face sideways and throw the back of my hand to my forehead.
“Be still my beating heart.” Oliver doesn’t say anything, but his self-satisfied grin speaks volumes. I want to smack it. I shove him away and hop up. “Oh crap. Look at the time. I gotta get home. My mom will be so worried.”
Oliver stares at me. “What does this mean? Are you like my girl now?”
I can’t help it. The need to torture him gets the better of me. “Jury’s out on that one—see you tomorrow.”
He holds his hand to his heart. “You wound me.”
“Yeah, right. Nothing wounds you, play-er.” I laugh as I jog toward home. He’s funny. I’ll give him that.