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“Uh, neither” I laugh at their attempts to find out more, “I’m taking the night shift for a friend of mine. His wife just had a baby.” Apparently that’s enough information to satiate their curiosity.
I wait until the last woman leaves before packing up myself. Can I make it through another night ‘teaching’ Birdie without doing something all alpha cavemanish like not letting her up when the class is over? What would it be like to take Birdie home? To have her be all mine? What if she were still here waiting on me to take her home with me?
I’d have to take the first two weeks off because we would be fucking so much and for so long that neither one of us would be able to walk. As sweet and tiny as Birdie is, no one would be able to find me for at least the next week if I had her all to myself. Even then it would take us a week to start walking right again.
Shit! My dick is never going to go down with these kinds of thoughts spinning around in my head and next week…is going to be an exercise in endurance. Can I make it until the very last class before I ask her to be mine or will I start teaching one of my students a little bit more than self-defense moves?
Chapter Three
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Birdie
“Okay, Mom. I should be there in about fifteen.”
“Kay, sweetie. Drive safe.”
I hang up and rummage through my purse for my keys. I try to stop thinking about what’s going to happen this Friday at the self-defense class. Last week was…weird. It was weird that Gareth would signal me out and weird that he said nothing about the conversation my mom and Angie and I were in when he apparently came in.
‘Men like women with a little more to hold.’ How am I supposed to take that? Considering I’m short and curvy, it was almost like he might have been flirting with me. I huff at myself and shove the thought out of my head. No way is that man going to flirt with someone like me. He could have anyone he wanted.
That first time we all went out to eat I didn’t even try to sit next to him because all of the ladies wanted to, and I was so sure he would be into Angie - who is just as sweet as she is breathtaking. She made a beeline towards me and my mom at the beginning of the second class we took.
“So hot cop isn’t into me but he’s very much into you,” Angie teases.
“What? No.” I try to laugh it off. I’m used to my mom doing and saying stuff like this but not strangers.
“Girl, he’s sending you all sorts of hot, dirty glances. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you the entire meal last week.”
“He…,” She’s got to be kidding, “he’s hot but…um, probably married.”
Angie shakes her head no, “He’s not married, not gay, and not into anyone else in the class.”
“I told her I thought they had some sparks happening the first class,” Mom chimes in.
Mom and Angie give each other a look that worries me. “Look guys, it’s sweet, really, but I’m not…I don’t want to make the man uncomfortable every Friday night because he thinks I have a silly crush on him.”
But it didn’t stop them from plotting and scheming. Damn it. And now - just like I thought would happen - I can’t stop over-analyzing every move, every action, looking for what my mom and Angie say is happening.
Mom has Brownie with her tonight, my little baby pug. I guess you could say she’s babysitting since it looks like this is the only grandchild she is going to have for the foreseeable future. Probably until I break down and start using some of the dating apps my friends are using.
I let my mind wander as I drive down the road I’ve driven hundreds of times. My thoughts are mainly on the man I’ll have to see in a few days. Will he ask me to help him demonstrate again? What the hell does one wear to that to be both casual and sexy? Do I want to be sexy? I shouldn’t want to, should I?
All of these questions circulate around in my mind as I make my way to my mom’s. Then, out of the corner of my eye, something in my rearview mirror catches my attention. A car with two people in it comes up on me fast and I wait for them to pass me but instead, they just come up closer behind me.
I speed up but the car behind me just speeds up with me. It’s not safe to go this fast on these roads because they are so curvy. And then the car behind me hits my bumper and I lurch forward. The next time the car behind me hits me, it sends my car careening into a ditch. I try to wrestle control of the car back onto the road but can’t and end up nose down. The airbag pops and I must have hit my head because when I try to sit up straight my vision is blurred and doubled.
The horn is blaring, or at least I think it’s the horn, it might just be my head, and I can’t get my seatbelt off. Someone from the other car, which is not wrecked, comes over to my car but instead of coming to my side of the car he goes to the passenger side and opens it.
The old man from the house nearest us comes out in his driveway and shouts at us. “Don’t move. We’ve called the police and they should be here very soon!”
I must black out because the next thing I'm aware of is a police officer in my face asking me what my name is. It takes me a minute to realize he’s talking to me because it sounds like every band instrument from every high school in the state is right next to us blaring through the chorus of Hot Cross Buns.
“Ma’am, can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?” I try but can’t seem to focus on what he is trying to ask and keep track of what’s going on around me.
“Birdie?” Someone says my name but there are so many people here now that I can’t tell which one of them said it.
“You know her?”
