Carolina Days: Yesterday's Half Truths Part 11

I think you're all annoying and nosy.

I think I'm amusing.

I'm not feeling amused right now.

If I call, will you answer?

When she doesn't reply no, I figure it's worth a shot and call her.

"h.e.l.lo."

"Sorry, I was so pushy."

"You seem to be apologizing a lot."

I bite back a laugh. "I'll try to work on not p.i.s.sing you off anymore."

She groans. "Like that's even possible."

"Hey." I can't hold back my laugh this time. "I said try. I'm wired this way. Former Boy Scout and all that jazz."

"You were a Boy Scout?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised," she snaps.

My brows furrow. "Wait, that didn't sound like a compliment."

"You're just so..." She pauses. "Never mind."

I stand, waking Loki, and walk toward my fridge. "Don't be like that. What were you going to say?"

"You aren't going to let this go are you?" she asks.

"What, you and me hanging out or wanting to know what you just said?"

"Either, both, does it matter?"

"I'm the kind of guy that doesn't leave a job unfinished."

"Figured as much," she mumbles.

I pull out a smoothie I made before I left for her house. "So what were you going to say? You know I'm going to pester you until you tell me."

"Perfect. I was going to say you are perfect."

Her tone is anything but complimentary.

"There's no such thing."

Of course, someone perfect would think that. He wouldn't even know how lucky he is. The truly perfect people have no idea they are. He's gorgeous and nice and wants to finish the job, me being the job. See perfect people don't understand how us, non-perfect souls function.

Now he needs to fix me so his world will make sense again.

"I tried to say never mind, but you pushed it."

"Man, I'm already failing at that non-pus.h.i.+ng thing aren't I?"

I laugh at the ridiculousness of this entire situation. "You need to work on that."

"See, it's proof I'm not perfect."

"If you say so." I allow.

"So, are we going for a walk next Sat.u.r.day or what?"

Coco stalks over to me, and pressing her head into my lowered palm, she pets herself against my hand. The motion is more an invitation. She'll only rub herself against me a couple times before she'll glare at me and meow, wondering why I haven't taken her hint. She's clearly inviting me to pet her.

"Help me understand why this is important to you."

"You said it yourself; the whole reason you're doing this is to go to the reunion. You can work out all you want and, who knows, maybe look exactly like you want when it's time. But we both know if you don't start taking some steps to leave your house and be around people, you're not going to go."

"Fine, but why does it matter to you?" I grumble, petting Coco faster than she likes which sends her scurrying away.

"I'm proud of the work I do. If you stay inside, I won't be able to brag about how amazing you look."

What? "Shut up."

"You are chill, and honestly funny. My personal mission now is to convince you the world isn't a bad place. Try and tell me you weren't happy to be outside this morning."

Telling him that would be a lie, so I say nothing.

"See?" he goes on.

"All of this terrifies me."

"I'm not going to lie to you. Change is uncomfortable for everyone. All of my clients struggle with change, which comes with a new routine. You have to allow yourself to think of it that way, as a new routine."

d.a.m.n, that sort of all made sense. "What if I just can't do it?"

"Baby steps. You already know you can go outside and walk to the soccer field with me. All I'm asking is for you to do it again."

"But, what about after that?"

"When is your reunion?"

I close my eyes. "The end of April."

"We have plenty of time. How about we just walk and once you feel less uncomfortable with that, then we discuss you trying something else?"

I work his words over in my mind, weighing them, evaluating the reasoning behind his logic. He wasn't asking for anything I hadn't already done today. Today had been a shock but I had managed to walk with him and not freak out or do anything embarra.s.sing. It would be hard to argue telling him I couldn't do something we both knew I had already done.

"Fine."

"You'll do it?" His excitement's evident through the phone.

"Yes, I'll walk with you," I agree.

"And, you're still going to web chat me for your next training session, right?"

"Yes, boss man," I snap.

"See how easy things are when you don't argue?" he teases.

"Bye, Luke." I'm over this conversation.

"Bye, Lindsay."

Ending the call, I toss my phone to the other side of the couch once the screen goes blank.

"Bye, Lindsay." I mockingly repeat, folding my arms over my chest. Why does he have to be so annoying? What normal guy would be this invested in helping someone go to their cla.s.s reunion? Suddenly, I wonder if I'm like his new hobby. I should ask him if he put together model airplanes before deciding to take over my life.

My day is so off kilter I'm not even sure what to do at this point. Before my diet change, this type of scenario would have normally sent me running, or speed walking, to my pantry in search of something to fill my stomach as a way to fill my time. Somehow, a plate full of carrots does not sound as appealing as some barbeque chips once were.

I settle for a gla.s.s of water and slice up some cuc.u.mber to go in it. One perk to cutting soda out of my diet and switching to water has been the affect it's had on my skin. Given my age and lack of sun, you'd think my skin would have already been healthy.

To a certain extent it is. I'm not saying the difference is night and day. It isn't, but there's a difference. I'm totally going to blog about it and my new addiction to cuc.u.mber water. Thinking about my blog and planning posts allows me the escape not to think about Luke, or his motives.

It's as though my brain is split right down the middle between safe and unsafe thoughts. My blog is so far in the safe side I can easily avoid thinking about anything else while I'm focused on it. It's a mental escape from the serious stuff. After two hours of focusing on it, I push away from my desk and allow my thoughts to wander over to the not safe side.

The place where I decided avoiding all people at all costs was the only way I could go on. Now Luke's messing that up with his pushy insistence I change. I can't decide who is more at fault that I'm in this mess, me or Missy Pollard.

Knowing her, she would probably be thrilled to know the stress she's causing me. Amazing how someone I haven't seen in almost ten years could still have this much power over me. Amazing isn't the right word; sad is. Pathetic would work as well. Sad and pathetic, if only all my followers knew the real me.

There's no way they would care about my fas.h.i.+on picks or makeup tutorials if they did. I wouldn't even blame them. That's why I'm doing this, that's why they can never know. They are my ultimate motivation to keep working with Luke, no matter how far he pushes me.

Whether I question his personal motives or not, at the end of the day he's getting results. He's right to point out all the changes he has inspired. I need to get to the reunion for my followers and he might be the only person persistent enough to make it happen. What's the worst thing that could happen?

Your crush on him could blossom into something more. The something more coming from your misplaced ideas about him being nice to you. I need to accept that while my crush on Luke probably isn't going anywhere, it's up to me to ensure it doesn't get any deeper than it already is. On a scale of one to ten, Luke is a solid nine on my crush scale.

It's up to me to keep him there. Worst case, I could always pump Sasha for embarra.s.sing facts about him. Maybe she could even send me some unflattering pics of him I could refer to frequently. Problem is bringing Luke up could open me up to suspicion. Nope, I'm going to have to monitor this crush all on my own.

I could always work my editing magic on one of his pics to take his hotness down to an acceptable level. If he had a bigger nose or some serious acne, maybe a hairy mole, it might be easier to be around him. I move back toward my desk and open up one of the screen shots I had taken of him before we ever spoke.

Hand on the mouse, cursor hovering over his handsome face, I find out the hard way I can't do it. I can't change him. Instead, I sit here, letting my thoughts drift back and forth from the safe to the unsafe side of my mind.

Unsafe thoughts as in, could I ever picture a guy as perfect as Luke with someone as imperfect as me. Safe thoughts as in, I could picture him with the blog version of me. That is safe because she doesn't exist; therefore, it could never happen. My hand moves, cursor no longer hovering. With a few clicks of the mouse, his picture is changed. Now I'm in it with him.

Well, not me- that would never happen- the blog version of me. Together they look like the perfect couple. The kind of couple where the boyfriend does everything in his power to take care of his girlfriend. He would protect her and stand up for her. He wouldn't humiliate her as part of some sick prank.

That kind of thing would never happen to the blog, Lindsay.

She said yes. She fought it but none of it matters. All I had to do was make sure it didn't all backfire on me. If I weren't so nervous about it getting back to Lindsay, I would have asked Sasha for her advice. Sure Sasha's expertise is more in dealing with addictions, but I think her counseling background could help me figure out what to do with Lindsay.

I'm just going to have to do it on my own. My instincts have been spot on so far. Despite her annoyance, Lindsay is already making amazing progress. She is a fighter. I saw it in her eyes when I pushed her. That part of her must be dormant to her impulse to hide. I can't wait to uncover more of the fighter I know is inside. My plan is to spend as much time with her as I can, either talking on the phone, web chatting, or in person.

At some point, she'll have to get used to me and then I can try talking her into going somewhere other people might be. As crazy as it sounds, I look forward to p.i.s.sing her off. I like the sa.s.s that comes across in her emails and texts, and love the fire that flashed in her eyes after our walk.

There is nothing fake about her. She is so different from any other girl or woman I've liked. Even though I told Clay no, he was right; I do like her. I've always been attracted to curvy girls. She's the whole package; looks, att.i.tude, honesty, and something that makes me want to take care of her.

There's no way I can tell her though. I already know she'll bolt in a second if she knows. I have a plan though, one that will wear her down. If it works, she'll be coming to me, not the other way around. Until then, I need to focus on helping her get healthy and conquer her anxiety enough to go to the reunion.

Exhilarated from my call with Lindsay, I leash up Loki and take him for a walk. Halfway to the dog park my phone vibrates in my pocket.

"Hey, Sasha."

"Can I come over?" Her words are punctuated with sniffles.

I stop. "What's wrong?"

"I just need to see a friendly face." She hiccups.

"How far away are you? Do you want me to come to you?"

"I'm already on my way."

Skipping the park, I'll let Loki do his business in a gra.s.sy patch right next to my building so I'll be home when Sasha gets there. We've always been tight. I'm close with all of my sisters; but Sasha was the baby and after my dad left, she took it the hardest. She doesn't remember as much as we do and has had issues dealing with that.

She jumps from one relations.h.i.+p to another and unfortunately, seems to have a thing for older guys. Part of me wonders if she's seeking some sort of father figure. I love her, so I'm always there to pick up the pieces when it ends badly. Since she only lives twenty minutes from me, and was already on the way, I barely have Loki's leash off by the time she's knocking on my door.

Her tear stained face is a blur once I open the door as she crashes into me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

"Whoa, what happened?" I ask, closing the door behind her before hugging her.

"He doesn't love me back," she sobs into my chest.

"Who?"

"His name is Dave."

I have no idea who she's talking about. "Were you dating?"

"He's married."

I pull back and stare down at her. "You were dating a married guy?"

She shrugs. "They were separated when we met."