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“Speaking of Clay . . .” I draw out. Emma’s entire face lights up at the mention of his name, but she deflects.
“No, no, no, we are not talking about me this morning; we are talking about you.” She points a finger at me.
“Well, I’m done talking about me. Time to take Tank out.” I stand and Tank jumps up at the sound of her name.
“You can run and hide all you want. Doesn’t change the fact that he’ll be here in a few hours.”
Placing my cup in the sink, I shoot them an indifferent look.
“Whatever.” If only that were the truth. I’d never tell them, but I am so excited to see him again. Butterflies take off in my stomach just thinking about his blue eyes and handsome face smiling at me. One thing is for sure—this weekend has definitely turned out different than planned.
Walking out the back door, I spot the familiar red of the kayaker from yesterday morning. I don’t know what it is about this particular one—there are always people boating on the lake—but the smooth and serene way he glides across the water is beautiful. I’ve never given much thought to kayaking, but maybe next summer when we’re here I’ll give it a try.
I hear the truck pull in as it crunches along the driveway and Emma sprints through the house to meet them. While she is excited, I’m so nervous I feel like I’m going to be sick.
A mixture of voices grows louder as they enter the house, and I squeeze my eyes shut knowing that any second now he is going to be in the kitchen. I am so embarrassed about last night. He must think I’m crazy. Not that it should matter to me what he thinks, but for some reason it does.
“Hey,” he says from behind me. The sound of his voice awakens the butterflies in my stomach. Act normal, Av. You can do this.
“Hi.” I wipe my hands on the apron tied around my waist and turn to face him.
Holy hotness. I thought he was hot last night, but here in the light of day he is just so much more. My eyes wander over the length of him. He’s tall and lean wearing a pair of jeans that hug perfectly across his thighs, and he has on a blue and red plaid button-down with the sleeves rolled up, highlighting his muscular forearms, plus a defined chest and broad shoulders. This man is a work of art, and by the time I make it to his face, a smirk showcasing that perfect dimple is winking at me to let me know I’m busted for checking him out.
I lean back against the counter and blow my hair out of my face. Every part of me that had been nervous about his behavior toward me today disappears by this one look from him. His eyes are so blue in contrast to his dark hair that they remind me of the sky on a cloudless spring day. His eyelashes are thick and as he watches me, there’s something so familiar about the two of us together that I’m immediately put at ease and those butterfly flurries change their tune to excitement.
“These are for you.” I push the plate in his direction. “Happy birthday.” My words are rushed; I feel like an idiot.
“You made me cupcakes?” He looks at the plate graciously before he looks back at me.
“Mmm hmm.” Apparently, I’ve forgotten how to talk.
“Thank you. I can’t remember the last time someone made me something like this.” He swipes the edge of one, covering his finger with icing, and then sucks it off. The move isn’t meant to be anything more than him tasting it, but my mouth goes dry. His eyes light up at the taste and he gives me a lopsided smile.
“Well, stick around then, I’ll be sure to fatten you up in no time. I love to bake.” Oh my God. What did I just say to him? His smile stretches across his face and I suck in a breath. It’s really not fair how good-looking this guy is.
“I think I just might,” he says thoughtfully. “Hi, I’m Ash, it’s nice to finally meet you.” He holds his hand out to me and with just a slight hesitation I slide mine into his. His hand engulfs mine, and its warm, comforting. Moments of last night flash through my mind as he had wrapped one hand around my head and held me to him. His thumb runs across the back of my hand, just a little bit rough, calloused—I like it.
He chuckles and it sounds so warm and friendly. “So this is the part in the conversation where you tell me what all your friends call you.”
“Ha, sorry. My friends call me Av.” We’re standing so close to each other and he smells so good.
His eyebrows shoot up. “As in Ava?”
The moment of truth. He hasn’t placed who I am yet, and I’m certain that the second he does, things will change. What does it hurt to let him think it’s Ava? It’s not like I’ll ever see him again after this weekend anyway. And I like the idea of being Ava to him. It’s like I get to be someone completely different with him, without most of my baggage, or maybe it’s that I’m finally getting to be myself.
“Ava sounds good,” I shrug my shoulders and his eyes narrow a little. It’s like he knows I’m not telling the truth, but he isn’t questioning me about it either. Does he already know who I am? Have we met before? No, I definitely would have remembered.
“Why do I feel like I know you?” I ask him.
“I’m not sure, but I have that same feeling. Trust me when I say I’d never forget someone as beautiful as you.”
People have been showering me with compliments my entire life, but coming from him, it feels like the first one ever. A blush burns under my skin.
“You do kind of look familiar though,” I challenge him.
“So do you.” His head tilts just a little as his gaze runs over me from head to toe and back. Oh my God . . . I think my heart just stopped. He smiles again and my heart melts. It's not that I've never noticed good-looking guys before—I have. But none of them have ever made me feel like this. My blood feels like it's vibrating as it flows through my body. I'm attracted to him and this is a foreign feeling. A feeling I’m not sure I like and quickly need to learn how to block. I feel . . . vulnerable and that makes me feel not in control.
People don’t understand my need to be in control. I need to say who, I need to say when, and I need to say how. Giving up any of those things makes me feel uncertain and unsure, and with that comes anxiety. Lots of anxiety. Living with constant anxiety is like being a live ticking time bomb. So easy to set off and so mentally, emotionally, and physically destructive when it does. But by being in control, I can slow the burning of the fuse and maintain some semblance of a normal life.
