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“Typical,” he says under his breath. “You’re an ass sometimes, you know that?”
Dragging my hand through my hair, I decide I can’t shower right now, I need to work out. I grab some easy dumbbells nearby and get to lifting. Ben studies me, practically burning a hole in my back.
“That was out of line,” Ben apologizes, coming to stand next to me. He’s staring at the mirror as he talks, looking at me through the reflection.
“Just because I don’t care about her in the way I once did, doesn’t mean I want some psycho stalker after her. Nobody deserves that shit. Nobody,” I say.
Ben lets out a tense breath. “I get it man. Like I said, I was out of line. I’m just upset. You know how Wren and Birdie are. She’s like a sister to me.”
“I understand.” I take short inhales, working through the lactic acid buildup in my biceps. I enjoy the way it burns; it makes me feel like I can take on the world.
Pain, working out— it’s my happy place. I don’t like that Birdie Wilder is suddenly tainting it, even if it isn’t her fault. Now I’m pissed for a whole other reason.
I may have said I care for her well-being, but I never said I care for her. I’m not a fucking saint like Ben. He’s right that I can be an ass. And I definitely don’t idolize her like the whole town back home. I’m glad Birdie got what she wanted, but she sure as hell makes it hard to forget her face and that damn voice when it’s all over the fucking place.
Ben looks into the mirror as a skinny blonde woman comes up behind us. She smiles at Ben like he hung the moon. I’m pretty sure if he let her, she’d climb him like a fireman’s pole in front of the whole damn gym.
“Cindy,” he says, a fake smile now decorating his face. “I haven’t forgotten about you. Just finishing up my session here with Liam,” he winks at her via the mirror.
She blushes. “No problem, just making sure.”
“I’ll meet you by the mats.”
She nods, biting her plush pink lips between her teeth. Maybe Ben can give her my number. I need someone to take the edge off. It’s been a month since I’ve had someone in my bed, I think it’s about time I get some action before I implode on myself. Like I said before, I’m not a saint— never have been, never will be.
Ben notices my look because he gives me the thumbs up. He’s not going to sleep with Cindy, so game on for me. “I’ll tell her you’re interested.”
I nod, putting down the dumbbells before my shoulder starts to hurt. Running sounds like a good plan. It’s been a few days since my last cardio session, and I still need to burn off some steam.
“Have a good session. I’ll see you at home.” I pat Ben on the shoulder before I head toward the treadmills, not looking back. I know he worries about me, but he really shouldn’t. I’ve never been better, and I’m not going to let thoughts of Birdie Wilder ruin my good mood. She has lots of people around her that will help her through this stalker issue. There is nothing I can do for her, and really, nothing that I want to do for her. That ship sailed the summer before junior year, never to return. I’d come to terms with that at sixteen.
I let out a grunt as I step on the treadmill. My gaze moves upward to the TVs above, only to see Birdie’s face, her green and gold-flecked hazel eyes staring back at me as some clip from SNL with “Birdie Wilder Has a Stalker” scrolls beneath it. I swallow thickly, memories of the girl I used to know flowing into my mind without permission.
She looks different now, the dyed black hair she used to have is now her natural blonde. Sometimes I’d see the roots peek out in the years we’d hung out, but I’ve never seen the full effect of her natural hair. It tumbles down her back in golden waves, soft and beautiful.
When she smiles, a perfect dimple graces her left cheek. Her face is round, but her cheekbones are high, adding a delicate grace to her tall frame. She’s matured in the last ten years, of course she has, but I can still see the sixteen-year-old girl who loved stupid boy bands and PB&J sandwiches with chips inside behind it all.
I resist the urge to walk away and shower. Instead, I focus on the mirror before me and turn the treadmill up as fast as I can manage. Then I run. I run as fast as I can from Birdie Wilder.
three
Birdie
Ten Years Ago
Todayistheday.Today, I’m going to tell Liam Miller I like him. Like, really, really, like him.
He is everything I’ve ever dreamed a boy could be. And trust me, I dreamed about boys a lot. Since the moment the Green Power Ranger graced me with his presence on my TV at five years old, I knew I liked boys, especially boys in uniform who have a mean roundhouse kick.
Now, Liam Miller doesn’t have long hair or fight bad guys, but he is perfect. He is tall, taller than most sixteen-year-old boys, which is perfect because I’m tall too. At five foot nine and three-quarters I stand at least a head higher than most of the guys in my sophomore class. If I hear one more joke about “How’s the weather up there?” I am going to scream.
But Liam, Liam is a bean pole and plays for our high school football team as a kicker. He never asks me how the weather is or if I play basketball or some stupid crap like that. No, he’s just my friend. We met while working together last year at our local ice cream shop, The Daily Scoop, and started hanging out in the same social circles. I’ll admit, I never thought a boy like Liam Miller could be into me. With his dark hair and even darker eyes, he is the boy that every girl, and guy, at Parker Valley High wants to date and hang out with. I’m lucky he chose me to be his best girl friend.
When we met the summer before Freshman year, we didn’t know each other since we’d gone to different middle schools. And I must admit when he batted his chocolate eyes at me, I immediately blushed.
I’m a tall chubby girl who laughs loudly and dyes her natural blonde hair black. He’s a beautiful boy with friends that visit him during every single shift. Liam Miller is clearly popular. And though I do have friends, I’m not as adored as he is. That’s why I never thought he’d be my friend, let alone give me the time of day. But to my surprise, we became fast friends when we realized we both have a strong love for music and sneaking out of the house.
My “dad” is not in the picture, never has been, and Mom doesn’t care where I am as long as I don’t do hard drugs and get caught. Yes, I said what I said. Mom is a hippie through and through. She loves me and cares for me, but she also is never on my back like most kids’ parents are at my age. Liam’s are similar. Except his dad works nights as a cop and his mom is a nurse. Most nights his home is free of parents, and if he’s back before five in the morning, he’s solid.
