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STATIC ELECTRICITY
CHAPTER 1
***
Ginger
Older brothers are the worst. At least mine is. Killian was obnoxious enough when we were younger. He rubbed my nose in his sweaty pits after Friday night football and chased me with a garden snake as I ran screaming to Mom more times than I can count. He short-sheeted my bed so often I still sleep without a top sheet.
I thought things would change as we got older. But no. Killian’s still ornery, butting his nose into my business every chance he gets. It’s bad enough he’s inserted himself into my private life, trying to set me up on a blind date with his co-worker. But this time, he’s gone too far. Volunteering me to host Cranberry Corner’s annual holiday singles mixer takes the cake. I’m smack dab in the middle of an entire room of potential blind dates.
Killian knows how uncomfortable I am being the center of attention. I’m much better at working my magic behind the scenes. Put me in a room full of eager children, and I’m in my element. But a room filled with single adults making small talk, desperate to find“the one”or at least“the next one,”sets my nerves on edge.
Cranberry Corner community center is usually a place of refuge and happiness for me. It’s where my after-school theater group of budding actors and actresses practice and showcase their talent. It's the one place outside the classroom where I can create to my heart's content and stay in the background.
There’s no backstage for me tonight. No curtains to hide behind. No rows of chairs with proud parents eager to watch their children quote lines from the play they’ve written. Instead, I’m faced with a sea of singles chattering nervously, waiting for me to lead them through the evening with games and frivolity.
Damn, Killian.
But the evening isn’t a total bust. I’ve got my eye on someone, and I think he’s interested, too. We’ve been eying each other from afar over canapes and club soda. But that’s neither here nor there. I’m here to emcee and play hostess with the mostest tonight. A feat I’m semi-accomplishing with sweaty palms, a racing heart, and butterflies waving their freak flag in my belly.
“Time to work my magic.”
I make a beeline for the stage, weaving through the crowd, bumping shoulders with the county's most eligible singles. Butterflies swirl and swoop in my tummy as I brush past the redhead I'm fangirling over. My skin prickles as goosebumps creep along my arms.
Definitely nerves or static electricity.
I glance back at the redhead, curious if he felt the buzz of electricity, too. He stares after me, the fire in his eyes blazing as red hot as the hair on his head. A tiny thrill races through me as I soak in his charming smile. Heat blushes my cheeks. But I don’t have time for flirtation. The game’s afoot, and I’m on a mission to get this night over as quickly as possible.
***
Connor
The redheaded siren captivates my attention with her fluid grace. Her footsteps are quick and deliberate, yet she glides effortlessly through the thicket of singles. She's a head-turner and more.
I wasn’t sure about coming tonight. I’m in the market to meet a woman, but this seems forced somehow, unnatural. If my boss hadn’t given me the ticket, I’d be home flipping channels on the TV alone. I want a woman with a sense of adventure. Someone with similar ideals.
The curvy redhead reaches the small stage and grabs the mic. She taps, and the speakers crackle.
“May I have your attention?” The crowd quiets to a low hum as most turn their attention to her. “Thanks for coming out tonight. I’m Ginger, your hostess for tonight’s festivities. Is everyone having fun?”
She’s a natural, holding the mic toward the audience as they clap. The note card in her hand trembles ever so slightly. A natural with a mic or not, she’s nervous. I would be too. I consider myself outgoing, but I prefer one-on-one communication.
“Proceeds from tonight’s event are earmarked for the after-school youth program. This program benefits the families and youth of the community with a safe and supportive environment. Which, in turn, benefits all of us.”
A smattering of clapping breaks out, pausing her practiced intro.
She clears her throat before continuing. “We’ve got icebreaker games lined up, but first, I’d like to recognize the businesses who graciously donated prizes for tonight’s winners.”
Ginger slides a palm over her hip, then swipes over her plaid-clad thigh. She bolsters herself with a metered breath before continuing with the long list of charitable businesses and the purpose of tonight’s gathering. She exchanges her notes for a stack of cards, readying for the first game.
“I need a volunteer from the audience.”
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t put myself front and center of a crowd. I like to watch from the rafters. But her volunteer request is all the invitation I need to get closer to her. I plod through the sea of partygoers and hop onto the stage without hesitation. Ginger's even more radiant up close. Sun-kissed freckles dot her nose and cheeks. A sheen of sweat glistens at her hairline, confirming the case of nerves I suspected.
“What’s your name, sir?” She tips the mic in my direction.
“Connor.” I lean into the mic and catch a whiff of sugar cookies sprinkled with cinnamon. She’s warm and inviting, like the aroma of Mom’s kitchen on Christmas eve.
