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She vanishes into a cheerful and predictably light green VW Beetle, waves, and accelerates down the road. Grateful the awkward encounter is over, I also travel to my destination, even if parties aren’t my forte. Still, I do this rigmarole annually. It’s a matter of popping in, being visible to those employees of the city that are frequently involved along the food chain of my business prospects, then making zero waves before driving straight home.
No problem.
I’m preparing for a repeat of this when I accidentally trip over something that turned out to be Becca’s delicate foot in some sort of beaded sandal. My stomach sinks like a stone. Not only have I failed to travel through the first floor of the Walcott Family Home unimpeded, I’ve managed to injure her, as well.
“I’m so sorry. So sorry.” I keep apologizing as she sits right on the floor and massages her foot. What if it broke a bone in it or something?
She has the most miniscule feet I’ve ever seen on an adult person. Downright Lilliputian. And based on her pained wince, I’ve crushed the left one with my size eleven and a half.
“Honestly, I’m terribly sorry. Can I get you anything? Do you need to go to the ER?”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine.” But her eyes are pinched.
How has it taken me until this moment to realize that all of her is tiny, like a thumbnail rather than a full-sized photo? I knew she was petite when we stood next to one another on our combined landing at the duplex, but even at my average male height of five foot ten, she’s a good two heads shorter than I am.
“Becca?”
I glance up to see one of the Farris sisters, who run the jewelry shop, barreling forward and giving me the stink eye. Then the cousin shows up, too. I don’t know any of them well, but I believe all of their names are similar. There’s a Zoe and a Jodi and a Hilly or Hildi…I’m uncertain which one is speaking to Becca right now, despite the woman’s short dark hair being different from the other two.
I might pull wire and tie in circuits for panel boxes for many of the business and residential properties of Oak Valley, but other than that, I don’t interact with the townsfolk. I don’t get out much in general.
“You all right?” the Farris woman asks Becca, and I feel like dogshit as Short Hair throws me another warning look. “Come on over here with us.”
The Farris sister or cousin drags Becca away, and while I tend to hate these sorts of soirees, this one is particularly bad. Usually Matt is here, so I can go up to him, say one thing, and he’ll do the rest of the talking. But when I’m expected to mingle on my own like this, I’m hopeless.
That specific personality trait was something Karena constantly bitched about, my lack of ability to interact with others. Still, I stay only long enough to hobnob with the necessary handful of powers that be, including the mayor, a guywho typically rubs me the wrong way. After that, I’m out of there.
It’s hours later when I hear Becca return, and feeling like a heel, I force myself to check on her. I’ve changed into my at-home uniform of sweatpants and a T-shirt, considering whether I should make more of an effort with my attire before deciding the hell with it. What matters is making sure she’s not injured, not dressing up all over again.
When she comes to the door, she’s drinking from a massive cup of water. I don’t even know how I do it, but somehow, in an effort to lay a hand on her shoulder, I hit the cup instead, splashing it all over her. All over her thin white shirt, which has now become transparent enough for me to see that she’s braless under there.
The lower half of my anatomy hasn’t received the memo about this not yet being warm shower time and rises to the occasion like a flag on a football play. I’m ogling her perky tits as she’s ogling my obvious hard-on, and I’m about to dive back in through my own door when she smirks at me and observes.
“You’re a bit of a klutz, aren’t you, Sean?”
Customarily, I’m not. I swear. Mixing wiring buildings to code and dangerous clumsiness wouldn’t ever be a profitable bet, especially as much of that requires being at the top of high ladders. Yet this is twice now that I’ve basically become a slapstick buffoon in front of her.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I peer into those remarkable features of hers—Becca Newby is a one in a million beauty—and watch as she stifles a giggle. Next, she fails to stifle it. One moment she’s standing there in a state of semi-shock, and then she doubles over with happily blaring laughter. I’m just beginning to absorb how gorgeous she sounds when the hilarity of the scene smacks me over the head.
It starts with being unable to repress the corners of my mouth edging upward, then once the dam bursts, I wind up howling as vocally as she is. This laughter is high and gleeful and contagious. I can’t stop, even once my abdomen aches at the strange flex we’re doing.
We roll with laughter until we’re each clutching our middles, until tears of levity are rolling down our cheeks. I haven’t let loose like this in…
Shit, I don’t even remember how long.
When she seizes me by the elbow, I don’t resist.
“I made a cake earlier. Get in here and have some with me.”
Finally quieting, I nod, allowing her to drag me inside.
Four
Becca
I’m basically ordering this poor man around, but after the Walcott party ended up being less about networking and more about people hanging out in their own individual cliques, I left disappointed. Sure, I was able to spend time with my bestie and mix with a few other business leaders, but my lofty aspirations of being asked to spearhead some fundraiser with the Chamber of Commerce didn’t come to pass.
