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Marc grabs my hand and drags me back to the trampolines. The argument that was about to fly out of my mouth dies and is all but forgotten. He’s a devious beautiful man. How can one not have fun while listening to great music and jumping on trampolines when a guy like Marc is smiling at you? I even do a back flip. I stumble on my landing and have to suppress my smile while ignoring Marc’s. Once we hit the hour mark, I’m so relieved. I may be twenty-five, but I’m not in any kind of shape. How did I even last this long?
“You need food,” Marc says as we put our shoes back on.
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”
Marc starts chuckling to himself.
“What?”
“You have an accent, but I really heard it when you said ‘right.’” He says it with much emphasis on the I. “Are you from here or further south?”
I clear my throat, saying my words carefully to keep my accent from coming out. “I’m from here, and my accent is just fine, thank you very much.”
“I think it’s cute.” He stands and holds his hand out for me to take. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a Southern belle on my hands.”
“You have an accent, too,” I point out to keep from thinking about what he said. It makes sense that he was wearing a Canadian flag Speedo; he’s from Canada. His accent is nothing like mine, nowhere near as pronounced except for when he says a few words slightly different than how I’m used to hearing them.
“Say y’all for me,” he says as we walk outside. “Oh, wait. No. Say all y’all.”
I giggle at hearing him saying it with a poorly exaggerated attempt at a Southern accent.
“Ah, I get to hear another lovely laugh from the lady.”
I roll my eyes as he opens the truck door for me. For some reason, I find myself doing as he asks. With a straight face, I infuse some anger into my tone and say, “All y’all need to sit down and shut up.”
Marc’s eyes widen for a moment before he bursts out laughing. I can’t help the small smile on my face.
Until he cups my face and kisses me hard just once.
“You’re cute.”
Why does he have to keep kissing me?
Oh god.
Why do I like it?
This is so wrong.
Just like that my breathing becomes rapid and I take a step back from Marc. I need to go home where I’m safe and alone. This is a stupid idea. He’s a hockey player! I can’t do it. I can’t do this to Roger.
I’m startled when Marc cups my face, his eyes now concerned instead of carefree. “Elizabeth,” he says softly. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to do this.” That’s wrong; I kinda want to do this. “I can’t do this, Marc. Take me home. This...this...is crazy!” My voice raises to nearly a shrill. Tears begin to fall and Marc pulls me into a hug. Closing my eyes is a very bad idea. Memories assault me, coloring my vision red. Marc’s embrace feels good and comforting and that’s very bad, too.
“Elizabeth, deep breaths.” He starts taking slow, long breaths so I can match him. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Before, he asked me. Now, he’s demanding me. Aside from the difference in the words, there’s a slight difference in tone. His voice is sturdy and definitely firmer.
“Where do you want me to start? I’m not like you. I am an uptight, no fun, piece of work woman with so much baggage I feel like I’m being buried alive. I don’t want to be here on a date with someone who can actually make me have fun because on top of all of that, I’m scared out of my mind!”
His arms tighten around me. “I only want to get to know you, Elizabeth.”
Yeah, that’s all he wants now. He already said he likes me. What about when he wants more? I don’t know if I want to give someone more of me. Why couldn’t Sylvia just leave this alone? Who cares if I never fall in love again and I die a lonely woman? I don’t think this stress and anxiety and complicated emotions bouncing around like a pinball inside of me is worth it.
“Let’s get to know each other while we eat. How does that sound?”
“Like I don’t have a choice,” I mumble, making him laugh. I pull away from him and finally get into the truck. Marc has officially seen my crazy. He’ll be a gentleman, feed me, and then I probably won’t ever hear from him again.
Lucky for me, it’s margarita night at the casual restaurant he chose to take me to. I order two to start because I’m definitely going to need something to get me through this. We are quiet as we look over the menu while I steadily sip my first margarita. My eyes keep straying to Marc. He’s so beautiful and even more so since I know he’s good in bed, er, a truck, and know there’s a kindness to him. Otherwise, we would be halfway to my house by now.
