The alarm chimes on her phone, and her mouth falls open. “Do you really?”
“No,” I say with a chuckle. “But I felt like I wasn’t making a very good case for myself and needed some extra points.”
She laughs and shakes her head in mock reprimand. “Like I said, token flirt guy for sure.”
I guess she’s not wrong. I turned myself into this guy on purpose. So why does it feel so uncomfortable to own it now? Maybe I’m a little tired of it. Maybe I’m ready to start veering back toward my old path.
“And what about you?”
“Oh, I’m squarely in the bookish category. I never even attempt to flirt because it always ends badly.” Her face is so serious right now. She really means this from the bottom of her heart. “I see you looking at me skeptically, but it’s true. I’m exactly opposite of your and Drew’s personalities.”
Ah—speaking of Drew, I should really be getting up now and leave Lucy the heck alone. She’s smiling, so my mission is accomplished. (Hurrah for the token flirt guy doing his duty!) For some reason, though, I can’t. I don’t want to go back down in the water with everyone else. I want to sit here and watch this beautiful woman blush and continue having odd conversations with her that make me want to smile more than I’ve smiled since Janie. So, I do the wrong thing and stretch my arm out across the bench seat (not the arm closest to Lucy, because I may be stupid, but I don’t have a death wish) and settle in.
“You two do seem pretty different. And you definitely look nothing alike.” Why did I add that last part?
Her nose crinkles again with an uncomfortable smile. “Well, most people think he’s pretty hot, so I don’t quite know how to take that.”
I squint one eye. “Are you fishing for a compliment? Trying to get me to flirt with you again?”
Her smile drops, and now she has owl eyes. The blush is back. “What? No! I was just saying a fact, not at all fishing. I don’t even really like compliments because I never know what to do with them, and—”
“Lucy, relax,” I say with a chuckle. “I was just messing with you.” I want to bump her shoulder again but refrain because I’m a saint and a very good friend.
“Oh.” She sinks back against the bench again and laughs at herself. “I’m sorry. I—This is why I prefer reading to actually talking to people. Less chance of humiliating myself.” She tucks her nose back down into her book like she’s intending to jump inside it Reading Rainbow style.
I’m not ready to lose her to that book yet.
“Well, now that you’ve admitted you’re only using that book to hide”—I pluck it from her hand and toss it onto the bench across from us—“you have no choice but to put it down and come hang out with us.”
She looks from the water, where everyone is floating, back to her lap. “I’m good up here. Thanks, though.”
What? She’s not going to come out to the water at all? Maybe Drew was right and Lucy really is having a hard time after breaking up with Tim. “Alright, well, I won’t push you to come out there with us. Breakups are hard, so I understand wanting to just chill by yourself.”
She lets out a sharp ha, and then her hand immediately flies up to cover her mouth. “I didn’t mean to laugh,” she says from behind her hand. “It’s just…” She shakes her head. “Never mind.”
Okay, that was definitely not the reaction of a woman aching with a broken heart. My spirits lift. Tim Shmim. “Are you really going to bait me like that and then leave me hanging?” I lower her hand away from her mouth. “What were you going to say?”
Lucy stares at where my hand is covering hers. I let it go, realizing I’ve already touched her twice in five minutes when I’m supposed to touch her never in my entire life. “It’s not the breakup. Don’t tell Drew, because it will go straight to his head, but I never liked Tim all that much. The reason I don’t want to swim has nothing to do with my breakup.”
She gives me a look that’s sort of shy and reserved but loaded with meaning, and now I’m worried Drew was right. For the first time in quite a while, I feel unsure of myself. Am I…bugging her?
I’m a pretty straightforward guy, so instead of lying awake tonight, wondering, I ask, “Is it me? Am I making you uncomfortable? Just say the word, and I’ll totally leave you al—”
“I didn’t shave my legs!” she says suddenly, eyes snapping back to me like she didn’t mean to cave on her secret so quickly.
I, however, am fighting a smile, relieved that I’m not completely unappealing to her—not that I want to be appealing to her. Because, you know…I can’t. “That’s not such a big deal.”
“No, I don’t think you get it. I haven’t shaved my legs in, like…weeks. It’s bad.” My eyes unconsciously begin to drift down toward her legs, but she reaches out quickly and grabs my chin, keeping it lifted. “Don’t look! What are you doing?! I just told you it’s embarrassing!”
I’m laughing now; I can’t help it. “Well, what do you expect me to do? You’ve just put a red button in front of me and told me not to press it. Of course I’m going to.” Something in my mind alerts me to the realization that I’m not just talking about looking at her hairy legs. My eyes drift toward the edge of the boat, expecting to find Drew pointing a sword in my direction, threatening a duel.
Except, no. I don’t think the pull I’m feeling toward Lucy has anything to do with the red-button principle and, instead, has everything to do with the way I genuinely enjoy talking to her, feeling like I have no idea what she’ll say next and loving that nothing comes out of her mouth unless it is absolutely true. Right away, she lets you know she’s not the kind of woman to play games. And guess what? I’m tired of games.
Lucy tucks her legs tighter under her and gives me a warning side-eye.
“Come on.” I wiggle my fingers in front of me. She gives me a quizzical look. “Show me.”
“No! I will not show you. I’m going to stay snuggled up with my book and let you and Drew enjoy your time with those waxy Barbie dolls.” She makes a shoo gesture, and I really don’t like that she seems to think I’m into “waxy Barbie dolls.” What kind of guy does she think I am? And why is it bothering me so much today that everyone seems to have a different perception of me than I have of myself? Shoot, maybe I’ve veered off path more than I realized.