Page 12 of Forever Flustered

Whipping her head to the side, once again spotting her ‘wallflower’ – they made eye contact again. This time, Maureen wasn’t fooling around. She began moving toward him across the landing strip, and he looked to his left, then his right, then back at her again… but it was too late.

“Stand there and fake it, mister,” she ordered under her breath bluntly. “We both know they are setting us up, and some dummy is recording the whole thing on his cell phone.”

“I noticed,” he replied in a hushed voice, looking straight ahead. She turned slightly, putting her back to the group so she didn’t feel what could only be described as ‘performance anxiety’ right now. They were watching despite the mingling and carrying on that the group of friends was doing.

“Maureen,” she offered pertly and waited for him to reply – he didn’t. Frowning, she saw he was still observing, like someone browsing a charcuterie tray, unsure which stalk of celery to select. Honestly, it was a little snooty of him to be standing there, looking down on the ‘plebes’ – namely her – when she was just trying to be nice to him… and said as much. “So, do you get off on coming to gatherings where you don’t get along with anyone, showing off just how stuck up you are?”

Okay, maybe I’ve got issues, she thought immediately as his head turned toward her, his eyes dropping to hold hers – and she waited for him to blast her with some heated comeback, some hedged insult. It wouldn’t be the first time she was called a foul name – and probably wouldn’t be the last either. It was at least twelve beats of her heart – maybe more – as she started counting, waiting for a reaction other than that icy look.

“You already know my name,” he finally acknowledged before turning away – again. He was going to be a tough nut to crack, apparently.

“I know your call sign,” she began again, trying to keep her voice down in case anyone was listening to them or if that guy was still recording. “Why are you called Archangel – and what’s your real name?” He simply tapped his name placard above his breast pocket that said ‘E. Hall’ without saying another word to her.

“Douche…” she muttered – and froze, realizing she spoke it aloud as he turned to look at her again. Those gray eyes were hard, shuttered, and colder than ever before. It was as if his entire being was made of granite now. He glared at her with his gaze, pinning her in place with a look.

“Excuse me?”

“I said ‘douche’ okay,” she snapped back in a hushed whisper, completely frustrated and fed up. “As in you are being a douchebag to me when I’m trying to be nice and hold a polite conversation with a perfect stranger. You might know these people, but I don’t… well, I know one or two… actually, I’ve met three of them and frankly – I’m not impressed. Maybe I’m missing something, or maybe I’m just not part of the ‘in crowd’ but…” Maureen hesitated as she realized there was a flicker of something again in his gray eyes. “You think this is funny.”

“It’s a little more entertaining than just standing here.”

“Ahhh,” she acknowledged, trying to think of something else to say. “I see.”

“Do you?” he replied evasively, his stance relaxing slightly as he looked away from her once more.

What am I? A gnat? Sheesh, this guy is treating me like I’m a creep and… ew – oh yeah – I am the breath-creep at the wedding, she thought, wincing as she remembered once more her thoughts prior to striking up a conversation with this stranger and suddenly felt nervous. Is this what guys feel like asking out a girl who seems disinterested or out of their league? If so, I’m extremely uncomfortable… and… and…

“I have m-minty breath,” she volunteered, and heaven help her – her voice cracked as his expression turned to her, his eyes disbelieving.

“What’d you say?” he managed to choke out and somehow kept that stern look on his face while his eyes widened in surprise. Yeah, this was not her best moment; that much was sure.

‘Hot Guy’ who is super not interested, can I introduce you to ‘Complete Moron’ – oh, and with minty breath!

“I don’t know,” Maureen fumbled in mortification, realizing just how bad she was flummoxing. Her face was on fire, and whenever she got embarrassed, it was quickly followed by verbal diarrhea, meaning she would say whatever managed to erupt from her mouth with zero filter or restraint. The heat already scalding her face got infinitely hotter.

Lava.

Her face was on fire, like a molten river of lava… and her mouth? Obviously just as destructive with no signs of it stopping anytime soon. She was trying hard not to speak as she attempted to pull herself together, but this guy had her completely rattled. Her brain was going ninety-miles-a-minute – and it was taking everything to keep her mouth from repeating it aloud.

Imodium ain’t got nothing on my mouth, yo…

Burn – baby – burn!

Courtesy flush!

Oh my gosh, can I just stahhhhp?

“Can we walk away and talk so they don’t hear me coming onto you?”

“Are you?” he asked pointedly, rearing back from her.

Why? Why was he rearing back unless… oh no! Was he backing away in horror because my breath not so minty after all? WHY. AM. I. PARANOID. ABOUT. MY. BREATH?

“I just told you that I have minty breath,” she whispered again, desperately hoping it was true as his gray eyes searched hers - and her brain shut down. Her mouth did not. “Why do boys end up with the prettiest eyes? It’s seriously not fair… oh my gosh, I did not just say that aloud to your face just now – did I?”

Maureen felt like she was potentially going to be sick. How did you lose all control when it came to talking by simply looking at someone? It was like she was in high school, standing at the front of the school having to perform a skit in theater class all over again. That thought alone made her want to heave – or break out in hives – especially when his lips parted in amazement, and he blinked in confusion.

Crazy lady hitting on you? I know…