Page 17 of Hey Girl
“Really?” He tilts his head back with a look of amazement. “You push yourself once a day to do something you’re not used to?” I nod, with a curious smile. “Me too!” He gestures towards himself excitedly.
“You do?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely!” Now there’s a word that could be my Everest. “Last week, I went up in one of those zero-gravity planes. Totally ralphed afterwards. Worth it, though. And the week before that, I tried cage diving with sharks- they don’t like to be poked by the way…”
He trails off, presumably when he sees my eyes widen and my mouth do its impression of the Cave of Wonders.
“Oh…sorry. I guess we’re on completely different scales where that’s concerned.”
I can’t help a giggle. A real, honest to God giggle. I can’t remember the last time someone managed to do that that wasn’t on an old SNL rerun. I feel safe with him, like I could try some more words.
“So… why are you so…” Gregarious! Come on! “…not shy?” Damnit. I have a better vocabulary than a third grader, I swear! I want to tell him.
He chuckles. “Just never occurred to me not to be, I guess. I’ve always liked people and having fun. I was the class clown growing up.”
From what I can tell he still is. He’s the craziest, most energetic and extroverted of Turn it Up. However, I’m pretty sure this is the mellowest I’ve ever seen Chris. Although that could very well change once that coffee kicks in.
When we approach my car, the nerves start humming again. Goodbyes are so awkward for me, even the casual kind. I take another sip of my latte as I dig for my keys. Just another quick thank you and goodbye and I can lock myself in my car until he’s out of sight. I’ve more than made up for my failed coffee order today.
“Thanks again,” I say once I’ve located my keys from the bottom of my bag. I don’t want to seem rude. I’m just only capable of so much.
“Will you go out with me?”
I freeze. I feel my face get warm, and I have to mentally nudge myself to breathe.
“N-no…?”
Smooth. And really, really nice Rebecca. God that was a curveball, though. I do not get asked out. Ever. And sure as hell not by hot drummers from famous rock bands.
“Why not?” Chris casually asks, completely unfazed. “I’m way out of your comfort zone. It’ll be the perfect- oh, wait. No,” he snaps his fingers as a look of realization passes over his face. “You already did your daily challenge. Tomorrow!” He points at me.
Oh my God, this train just switched tracks and is full steam ahead towards the kind of disaster that ends with explosions and a body count. I’m panicking. I’m starting to shake. I have to leave. Now. My keys start jangling in my shaking hand as I fumble for the key fob to unlock my vehicle.
“What’s the matter lovely? You’re shaking like Motorola pager- ohhh. Shit. I went all Chris again didn’t I? I’m sorry, I just got comfortable and slipped into me mode. I can be really eager sometimes; ok all the time. But forget that, what can I do to make you feel better?”
My swirling brain just barely picks up on that last sentence.
“Wh…I…” Don’t ask me out! That’s what you can do!
“Listen, I think we’d have a good time, and dating me would be like an extreme sport for you! We can just?—.”
He’s cut off by music, a familiar rock song. Even though I feel like I’m about to drop dead from panic and mortification, I register that it’s Crazy Bitch. It gets louder as Chris pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks down.
“Shit,” he mumbles as he looks around nervously; for who or what, I don’t know. “I gotta go! Think it over! I’ll see you later!”
I watch as he tears off at top speed down the sidewalk, still looking every which way around him until he’s out of sight.I think a solid two minutes pass by before I realize I’m still standing here dumbfounded next to my car. Did that really just happen, or am I having a stroke?
6
REBECCA
It takes me a second to identify the sound of my front doorbell chimes. When next to no one pushes it, you tend do forget what it sounds like.
When I realize that someone is here, at my house, my safe haven, I start to panic.
My heart is in my throat and blood is racing through my veins.
Statistically speaking, whoever is on the side of that door means me no harm, but the fact remains if I open it, I have to talk.