lan B.
Which was to do the work myself.
I already had YouTube up on my phone this morning, teaching myself how to knock a wall out…which surprisingly looked really easy. I could totally do it.
I’d been surviving on my own for the last six years. I’d been working, going to school, taking care of my sister…and uncle, all while managing my money so well that I could afford my own house while helping pay for my sister’s college.
If I could do all that, I could totally knock a wall out—no biggie.
I might even change my name to Joanna Gaines. I bet if we were friends, she would totally be cheering me on. Or probably even helping me.
I ran to my barely unpacked room, bypassing my mattress on the floor because I still lacked an actual bedframe, and yanked open my closet doors.
Smiling to myself, I grabbed a heather grey t-shirt and my thrift store, super-adorable, jean overalls. I braided my long, chestnut hair into a French braid and nodded to myself in the mirror.
Time to put on your big girl panties and get to work, Ivy the Builder!
I could do this. I could do anything I wanted. I’d proved that to myself over and over again. That was one thing I was sure of – I could definitely take care of myself.
Hopping down my cracked, concrete steps, I made a mental note to YouTube how to pour concrete next, or maybe I could splurge and pay a concrete company, because I was bound to break an ankle walking up and down steps that looked as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to them.
“Agh, shit!” I shouted while falling less than gracefully onto my knees. My palms stung from the jagged concrete as I quickly hopped to my feet, staring down at the already bleeding slices in my hands.
“Yeah, I definitely need to fix those next,” I mumbled as I looked down at my aching knees, thankful that my jean overalls had kept them somewhat protected. The jeans were worn a little from where I fell, widening the almost-tears, but at least that just made them look more vintage.
“Are you okay?”
My breath hitched as I flicked my head up to the one voice I did not expect to hear.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, shoving my hands behind my back.
Dawson walked closer to me but I took a step back, eyeing him daringly. He looked much different today - not as put-together like yesterday. He had on worn blue jeans and a bright orange t-shirt with his company logo above the right breast pocket. His coffee-colored hair (which was so much darker from when he was a sixteen-year-old, sporting that surfer boy haircut) was tousled on top in a cute, messy way. It looked totally different from when I had seen it yesterday, all combed and slicked over.
Dawson’s eyes narrowed slightly when he saw me step back, as if it surprised him that I would step back from him. He really shouldn’t have been surprised though, as he was a complete dick to me yesterday.
“Let me see them,” he commanded.
I muttered under my breath, “I’m fine.”
“I see you haven’t lost your stubborn streak.”
My mouth twitched but I bit back my smile. “What are you doing here?”
He walked closer to me but this time, instead of stepping back, I stayed put. “I’ll tell you as soon as you show me your hands.”
A tiny sigh escaped my mouth but I eventually brought my hands around and flipped them up so he could survey the damage.
“Come on,” he said, walking past me and around the broken part of the steps. I stood, just staring at him for a few seconds, but somehow my feet knew to follow him into my house.
His tall stature stood inside my living room, taking it all in before walking into the kitchen. I listened to the faucet creaking as he turned the knob and then the water flowing into the sink. As I walked into the kitchen I made sure to keep my distance from him. When he turned around and nodded for me to come a little closer, I took my time making my way over to him.
La-de-da, act normal, Ivy.
A shock of pleasure went through me when he wrapped his hand around my wrist and pulled it under the water. The contrast of his warm skin on mine and the cool water streaming over my hand literally made me dizzy. My heart started to beat erratically and I didn’t know why. I felt energized but drained at the exact same time.
Suddenly, my feet swayed under my legs and Dawson’s face twisted. He grabbed my arms to steady me and scanned my face. “Ivy, seriously. Are you okay?”
I swallowed my thick spit and tried to clear my head. No. I think I’m having a fucking panic attack!