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“He didn’t call it that. And he’d already asked me earlier in the week if we could get together tonight and talk.”
“Ooh, that’s interesting.”
“I’m living off zero sleep and I’ve just been humiliated in my bed, of all places—which makes it worse, by the way—so interesting is the last word I would use.”
“Take a breath. I’m on your side.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve been waiting for this for forever and then instead of a magical moment, I got a kick to the gut.”
“Maybe he’s been planning this night so he could kiss you in a special way.”
“A special way,” I snorted.
“You know what I mean.”
“I guess, but believe me, I don’t think it would have topped what almost happened.”
“That good, huh?”
I shivered thinking about it until that last bit, and then I cringed. “I know this sounds cheesy, but it was surreal, and it felt like we were in this magic bubble where only we existed.” Tears began to stream down my face instead of trickle
“Oh, Em. Maybe he’s one of those guys who feels like you should date before you kiss.”
“You really think that?”
“No. Guys will take whatever they can get, when they can get it.”
“Exactly, unless you have a doughboy middle because you love the Doughboy.”
“Sawyer doesn’t seem like that type. Regardless, I hope it doesn’t affect the way you feel about yourself.”
I thought for a second. I’d always known who I was and wasn’t. I knew my love affair with all things sugar and yummy carb related made me not the prettiest girl on the block. I’d always been okay with it. I liked me. Yes, it hurt sometimes when I wasn’t chosen, but it wasn’t because I felt less, it was because the other person couldn’t see more. They couldn’t see that I was more than my waist size. If Sawyer was one of those people, it would break my heart but not my spirit.
“Em, you’re beautiful. I hope you know that.”
“Beautiful is an exaggeration, but I like myself.”
“Stop that, please. You are beautiful. You can ask Brad. He said more guys didn’t ask you out in high school because you intimidated them. No guy wants to think his girl can play ball better than him.”
“I don’t think that’s Sawyer’s problem. He could kick my butt on the field.”
“Em, I don’t know what happened this morning, but don’t give up hope yet.”
“I don’t know, but now I need to go climb into a caster and figure out why molten steel is oozing out of it.”
“See how intimidating you are?”
I laughed through my tears. “I’m just me.”
“Just me, you’re the best person I know. I love your guts. Call me later.”
“Love you too. Get some rest for my godson.”
“If only he would stay off my bladder.”
I hung up feeling a tad less depressed. This tiny strand of hope stretched across my heart, holding it together thinking there was a chance with Sawyer. In the next second, that string frayed because I couldn’t think of one good reason why he didn’t kiss me this morning unless he was turned off by my less-than-perfect figure.
Those conflicting emotions carried me into the melt shop. It felt more like the cold mill this morning with all the equipment shut down.
Sawyer played in my tired brain all day while I crawled in and out of the caster trying to figure out what was causing the problem. My brain could hardly concentrate on all the process data I was having to muddle through. The problem was that my life felt like a bigger problem at the moment. Add to that no sleep and a heart that was on the verge of breaking. Sawyer’s and my conversation kept running through my head. My hopes rose when I heard him say, I know where you belong. Did he think it was with him? But as soon as that wonderful thought took hold, I would remember the sting of rejection. His hand repulsed by my squishy middle.
The misery of not knowing would be over tonight. I would finally know one way or the other, because there was no going back after what happened this morning. There was no way for me to hide my feelings for him any longer. No matter what, he knew I wanted him. It was clear by how I had responded to him in my bed. His actions, though, were puzzling. This was all assuming I made it that far. I was exhausted. Not even all the Dr. Pepper I was downing was helping.
By two that afternoon I was exhausted, filthy, and had managed to rule out a bad encoder and misalignment. It also wasn’t the mold powder, which was like a crazy expensive industrial cooking spray. In frustration, I looked at the data once more and somehow my brain began to function.
