Page 5 of Parker
I was the awkward seventh grader who threw up his blue raspberry snow cone on her first (and short-lived) boyfriend’s brand-new white sneakers during the Yuletide fireworks.
(I’m pretty sure she still thinks I vomited on purpose, like it’s even possible to do that on-command.)
At some point—right around eighth grade, I think—I recognized that Parker was never going to like me, that she would probably always see me as a nuisance, a bother, and a pest. But this knowledge didn’t induce me to back off. No. It just made me frustrated. So what did I do? I doubled down. I worked even harder for her attention—anyof her attention, even if it was her scorn.
In middle school and high school, for example, I’d find ways to get under her skin deliberately. I figured, if she thought the worst of me anyway, I may as wellearnher contempt, and besides, her contempt still filled something inside of me. It meant I had some small portion of her attention—she feltsomethingfor me, even if it wasn’t positive. So, all the things she hated most about me? My big body and loud voice? My omnipresence in the daily life of her family? The teasing and the pranks? I used them to drive her crazy any chance I got. Because if I was driving her crazy, it meant I was still on her radar.
Somehow, that became our status quo.
I accepted my role as the eternal thorn in her side.
And mostly, I was okay with that.
I mean, Iamokay with that. I pause for a moment, thinking this over.I’m okay with that, right?
As the flight attendants run through the safety demonstration, I glance to my left, where Parker’s pretending to sleep. I tenderly trace the familiar curves and planes of her face with my eyes. She’s a natural blonde with long straight hair that she usually wears in a messy bun at the base of her neck. Her lashes, which are a slightly darker blonde, rest on her cheeks, and were she to open her eyes, they’d be the same color as the summer sky over Taiya Peak. I’ve been stealing peeks at them for as long as I can remember. I caress the upturned slope of her nose, then drop my eyes to her lips, lingering there for a moment. Finally, I look away from her, sighing with frustration.
“All good, hon?” asks the flight attendant.
I wink at her. “Sure.”
“I heard that sigh. You get nervous about flying?”
“Nah. Just eager to get going.”
“Well, don’t worry.” She grins at me, her eyes soft. “We’ll be lifting off in a second.”
“Good to hear.”
“You, um…” She bites her lower lip as she leans closer to me. “You staying in Seattle tonight?”
I’m not unfamiliar with come-ons from pretty women. I read her question loud and clear.
“Unfortunately, no. I’m connecting to Vegas in Seattle.”
“Hmm,” she hums, giving me a wry smile. “Lucky Vegas.”
I wink at her as she waves goodbye, then I lean a little to the right, watching her pert ass sway back and forth as she walks up the aisle checking seat belts. She’s cute. And down-to-fuck. That’s for sure.
Too bad I’m not staying overnight in Seattle, because I definitely would’ve considered—
“Shedodged a bullet.”
I look beside me to see one of Parker’s eyes cracked open.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I’m trying,” she complains, closing her eye again, “but per usual, you’re so loud, it’s hard.”
“That’s what she said,” I whisper close to her ear.
“You’re disgusting,” she mutters.
“Jealous much?” I ask, nudging her side with my elbow.
“As if,” she snorts, crossing her legs away from me, and resting her head on her left shoulder.
Part of me wants to inform her that regardless of what she might think, I don’t have trouble attracting female attention, and I rarely get complaints from the females I attract. But even in my head the words sound pathetic. Instead, I turn awayfrom her and finish my muffin, comforting myself with the undeniable fact thatmostwomen like me. They find me funny, charming, andyes, Parker Stewart, you ice queen, attractive, too.