“So what are you up to tonight?” Rico was pulling the strap to his athletic bag over his shoulder as he approached me.
“Work.” I downed more water and capped it, popping it back into my gym bag.
“Ever have time for fun?” He was smiling flirtatiously, and he was definitely a handsome guy. But though I would have considered going out with him even a week ago, somehow his chin seemed weak and his eyes weren’t green, and he was only average height (which was still taller than me). It was silly, but there you have it.
“The world is an expensive place, Rico. I work six days a week and rest on the seventh.”
“Yeah, well, let me know if you ever have free time. I think we could have some fun.” His dark eyes smiled playfully into mine, and somehow they just didn’t seem serious enough, intense enough.
Just shoot me, right? This was probably yet another manifestation of my need to stay away from emotional entanglements and come up with reasons why I couldn’t be with someone, even when I’d been attracted to them before. One of the main reasons I’d started taking this class was because I thought Rico was a hot guy. Over time, I’d realized it was a good class and it was helping me live my life like a badass. One of my needs in this life I lived was to be able to take care of myself no matter what. I could never rely on anyone else for anything, ever again. Ever.
“I’ll see you next week,” I offered, and he walked on with a parting shrug, like a you-can’t-blame-me-for-trying gesture.
“It hurts while I’m doing it, but I just feel great when I’m done.” The older woman came up to me with a wide-open smile. “Besides, with my new body, I was able to shop for lingerie for the first time in years. I got this really cute nightgown that I might wear tonight.” She was blushing like a schoolgirl, which was absolutely lovely to see.
“Ken’s the lucky guy?” I wiped the drips of sweat on my gym towel as they rolled down my temples and remembered how she’d mentioned this guy the last several weeks that I’d talked with her after class. It was funny that I knew her guy’s name, but not hers.
“Yeah. I’m going to cook for him tonight. I make the best pasta sauce, if I do say so myself. What about you? Rico’s handsome. Are you two going out tonight?”
“Naw, I’ve got work. The bills don’t pay themselves.”
“You work every weekend, honey. Don’t waste your youth. You only get it once.”
“Yeah, well, life gets complicated.”
“That it does. It can teach you things that aren’t healthy to learn, if you’re not careful. I know that one. I better go. I need to make a trip to the grocery store.”
It was an interesting way to leave things, and I was sure the cryptic comment was deliberately left to my interpretation, but critical thinking was not going to happen right after a hard-core workout. Still, her comment stuck with me as I walked all the way out to my car...and saw that the passenger-side window was smashed in.
“No,” I whispered, rushing to it in the parking lot. “Are you kidding me? Why? It’s a piece of junk!”
But it was my piece of junk. I’d managed to save for it, buy it used, pay for insurance and gas every month, take care of maintenance and repairs. There was nothing of value in it to steal. Even the radio was old and broken, but that was okay with me. It was my little junker that I’d been able to afford and rely on. And while I know cars get broken into all the time, it just didn’t make sense that mine was targeted.
Peering through the window, I tried to think if I’d left anything out on the seat, but the only thing I had that I considered to be valuable was my phone, and that had been safely tucked away in my bag inside the gym with me. So it just didn’t make sense. Glass shards spread across the passenger seat, the floor mats were tossed around haphazardly, and the map book I usually kept under my driver’s seat was ripped up. It was almost like someone was mad and just trying to do damage for some reason.
God, what a weird day this was turning into.
There didn’t seem to be anything missing. I shoved the pieces of map book out of the way, practically threw myself onto the driver’s seat in a huff, and drove home with the car as it was. What could I do about it in the parking lot? If I stared at it any longer, I was going to cry, and that was something I just didn’t do in public. Not a good badass image to project. What sounded good was a lukewarm shower, some time to cry on my pillow and a nap before work. I needed some cooling-off time before dealing with the problem.
An image of Ryder, my knight in shining armor from last night, came to mind. His intense green eyes and tough, not-to-be-fucked-with deadly silent demeanor somehow inspired confidence, and I felt better.
As though my thoughts manifested the man, I saw him sitting at one of the common-area tables by the pool in the courtyard, and my heart kicked up a beat. It was both exciting and disconcerting that he was just as devastating to my senses as I remembered.
He was reading the paper, with a bottle of water sitting in front of him. Black hair damp and wearing swim trunks, he looked like he’d just taken a swim. Unfortunately, he’d already put on a white logoed T-shirt, which was stretched across his muscular chest oh, so deliciously.
The view was letting me forget about my problems for the moment and just enjoy.
Disappointingly, as I came through the security gate, he didn’t even look up. I was deliberately making a lot of clanging noise, you know?
Hmm.
I thought about bypassing the courtyard completely and just going up the side stairs to my apartment. However, there seemed to be an invisible rope strongly wrapped around my sense of free will, commandeering it, and I found my feet carrying me toward him anyway. He sighted me over the rim of his paper and lowered it, startling me with his darkly grim expression. He did a split-second inventory of my clothing and gym bag before returning to my eyes. It was like he was mad at me. It gave me pause. I wasn’t sure what to make of his mood and questioned whether to continue toward him. Maybe he wanted to be alone? Not be bothered?
In for a penny... I proceeded with caution.
“I—I just wanted to thank you for your help last night,” I offered hesitantly. “That could have gotten really ugly.”
At first I thought he wasn’t going to say anything. He was just looking at me with a firm scowl and those commanding green eyes, but then he tossed out “Yeah.”
It was a noncommittal reply, and I couldn’t gauge what his general feeling was about the encounter last night or his feelings about me standing there in front of him. I suddenly wished I had Cynthia’s femme-fatale moves from the night before. I wished I could glide over with sophistication and confidence and be able to sling some clever conversation that would get his attention. But on a good day I’d have trouble meeting that order, much less on a day where I felt out of the norm, where too many unpredictable events were presenting themselves. I decided the best course of action was retreat.
“Well, um, I think I’ve interrupted your...reading.”
“Yeah.”
Damn that word.
I stepped back, ready to save face. “I’m sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to say thank you. It’s one of the hazards of the job, I guess. Guys like that get drunk and think they can just grab what they want—”
“Can’t say I blame him.” He leaned back in his chair, folded the paper very deliberately and set it down, never breaking eye contact.
For a moment I thought I’d misheard him. Stepping toward the table again, I said, “Excuse me?”
“I can’t say I blame him,” he repeated very deliberately. “You advertise, you should expect guys to take you up on it.”