Chapter fifteen

“Avery, get out of the goddamn car,” Emma snapped at me after 5 hours of driving that day and 8 the day before. Needless to say, we were both a little sick of each other’s company.

Emma somehow talked me into getting into my little 5-speed Soul with her and driving 12, let me emphasize that, TWELVE hours with her over 2 days, just to get to Raleigh to see Sidney. I don’t know. She said something about finding myself and living in the moment.

            The first day of driving wasn’t too bad, driving through cute little towns like Berkeley Springs in West Virginia. All I could think about was Radiator Springs from Cars, one of the best movies ever made by Pixar, let alone made. We stopped in Winchester, Virginia for some Taco Bell and continued on down through the rest of the state to Richmond where we spent the night in some cheap little hotel with homeless people living on the sidewalk outside it. The day was mostly filled with off-key singing and riding with the windows down, one of my favorite things to do with Emma, no one else.

            The day we made the trek all the way to Raleigh, we didn’t leave until around noon. The morning was spent doing constructive things of course, like Emma flirting with the concierge to try and get us free things. Once we got into North Carolina, we were flying. We only had one little hang up with the beltway. The numbers went from 4 straight to 327, which confused us a bit. We got ourselves back on the right track and eventually ended up at an Applebee’s five minutes from the arena around 5:15, two hours and fifteen minutes away from seeing Sidney play.

            Now, I was being banished from the car to go find a scalper with two tickets. I always hated those guys. They gave me the creeps. I always thought that when I pulled out my wallet to pay them, they’d grab it and run away laughing. And I always wondered who would go to the game and willingly sell their tickets. It always seemed like such an incredibly silly concept to me.

            “Two tickets,” some guy, whom I assumed was a scalper, with no front teeth said to me as I walked by. If I was going to buy these stupid tickets I wanted to do it from someone with teeth. I felt like I was doing a drug deal or something. After walking by at least three more toothless men, I found a decent looking guy with decent seats.

            “One hundred twenty dollars,” he barked at me, making me jump a little. I grabbed my wallet out of my purse and pulled out the bills Emma and I had stuffed in there the night before. I handed him what he asked for, took my tickets and speed-walked back in the general direction of where I had come from. I pulled out my phone on the way and called Emma, trying to see where she ended up.

            “Did you get them?!” she shrieked into the phone without even saying hello. People were running everywhere and some guy had a Penguins flag he was running around the parking lots with. He ran up to me and gave me a high five upon seeing my Crosby jersey. “Avery!? Don’t ignore me!” she yelled. Every time we’re put into a stressful situation, she basically has a freak out and starts getting nervous.

            “Calm down,” I reasoned with her. “I just had to high five some guy, and yes, I got the tickets.”

            “But you didn’t high five me!?” she shrieked, on the verge of hysteria.

            I was not doing this now. “Emma, I’m talking to you on the phone. I can’t high five you. I’m going to go wait for you in front of the entrance,” and with that, I hung up on her before she could complain some more.

            I stood there with our tickets, waiting for Emma, being jostled around by Hurricane fans and getting booed by complete strangers when I finally wondered why I was standing here in unseasonably humid weather waiting for my psycho friend. Yeah I wanted to be here and I wanted to see this game, but really? I could have just waited for Sidney to get home and accept the fact that he has some crazy pregame ritual. Just as I was about to start off to find the car and leave, having wasted one hundred and twenty dollars on tickets, Emma grabbed my arm from behind.

            “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” she snapped at me before pulling me back in line to get inside. Just looking at her reminded me of why I was here. She hadn’t convinced me to come down here; I had done it out of my own free will. I wanted to see Sidney and I wanted him to accept that I was going to be with him the rest of the playoffs. I wanted him to know that what I was feeling for him was more than just a fling. I didn’t do flings in the first place, but if I had to pick anyone to have a fling with, it’d be him.

            “Thanks Em,” I said, turning around to face the arena with her. We kept each other in line. I kept her from doing stupid things and she kept me from being a prude. For that, I love her.

            “Now where are our seats?” she asked, still slightly hysterical.

            “Well, I think they’re up near the top. At least that’s what the scalper said,” I reiterated, glancing down at the tickets in my hand that each had a picture of Eric Staal on them. I’d much rather have ones with Sidney on them, but beggars can’t be choosers. I shifted the tickets in my hand and shuffled forward in line.

            There were some crazy metal detectors inside the doors. It was like going through airport security. Who would want to bomb a hockey game? It’s only Raleigh anyway. They made us do the whole thing where you take everything out of your pockets, stick it in bins and shove it through an X-ray machine. I’ve never quite known what those things were called.

            On the other side of the metal detectors, some guy was handing out free towels that said “Woooo!” on one side accompanied by a Hurricane’s logo. He half-heartedly extended his arm to me to wordlessly ask if I wanted a towel. I shook my head no and kept walking.

            “Are they free?” I heard Emma ask when I was two or three paces ahead of her. I turned around to see her looking excited at the prospect of getting something for free. I stared at her like she was crazy and turned around, not wanting to be associated.

            “Avery look! I got a free towel!” she called after me as I began walking around the arena looking for our section. “Wait, look!” she yelled, waving the towel at me when I turned around to look at her. I couldn’t help but smile at her cheap self.

            We once went to the movies and she ordered a small popcorn. The guy working the counter asked her is she wanted to make it a large. Her reply? If you do it for free. He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a large popcorn for the price of a small. She wouldn’t let me have any of it.

            “I see it Emma, now let’s go find our seats,” I said, linking my arm through hers and guiding her around the curving arena. After walking up two more flights of stairs, we reached section 316, at the top of the arena, a little above the suites.

            “Let’s go down to the ice before all the players go back into the locker room,” Emma said, starting to walk away towards the stairs down. I grabbed her arm before she could get very far.

            “No, let’s stay here,” I said, sitting down and watching Sidney from afar.

            “But don’t you want to see the look on Sidney’s face when he knows you’re here?” she questioned, taking a step back towards me. I know she wanted to go down to the ice, and I was tempted to tell her to just go by herself.

            “I don’t want to freak him out and then have him do a shit job,” I stated, pulling her down into the chair next to mine. She seemed to understand, but sat there sulking until the game started, then it was a different story. She was standing and screaming and yelling at Carolina fans all before the Penguins even scored a goal.

The first goal of the game was scored by Matt Cullen of the Hurricanes, which shut Emma up pretty quickly, but only until Geno scored about two minutes later on a power play. She was up and screaming after that, and even got popcorn thrown on us at one point. Sure, I yelled when Geno scored, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never yelled louder in my life than when Sidney scored late in the first period to put them up 2-1.

            Pregame curse. Psh.

            The rest of the game seemed to crawl by. I just wanted it to be over and the Penguins to be 3-0 in the series, so I could go down and wait outside for like all the other creepy stalker people.

            The final horn sounded with a score of 6-2. I felt kind of bad for the Hurricanes, but not really. I wanted the Penguins to win the Stanley freaking Cup, and if barreling over the Hurricanes meant winning the cup, I was all for it. I looked at Emma who was red in the face and could barely talk. This is the definition of playoff hockey: driving 12 hours to see your favorite team pummel another, not being able to talk after said pummeling and waiting for the players after the game is over.

            “Let’s go Em,” I said, walking down the stairs towards the ice where Sidney was doing an interview with a blonde lady. I practically sprinted all the way down. If I could let him see me, maybe I wouldn’t have to stand in the heat and wait for him. Maybe he would pull me back into the locker room and give me a passionate kiss. I was just hoping I wouldn’t have to stand outside, and if he kissed me, that would just be a plus.

            I got all the way down there, just as he was finishing the interview. He glanced up at the people crowded around the entrance to the locker room to give them all high fives. When he got to Emma, who was panting, and myself, he paused for a second to try and take in the fact that I was standing there in front of him with my best friend. His eyes said it all. How are you here?

            “I’ll be right back,” he said only loud enough for me to hear before continuing on into the locker room.

            I looked after him and breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until that point, but just hearing him speak, and without an angry edge to his voice, made me relax. I stepped away from the railing and slouched down into the nearest chair to wait for him to come back.

            The kids that were crowded around began to disperse and Emma and I were left alone before long. None of the workers tried to clear us out; they just cleaned around us, and after what seemed like an eternity, Sidney emerged from the locker room without his pads and skates on.

            I didn’t get up. I was drained, emotionally and physically. Believe it or not, driving 5 hours, and screaming for your boyfriend who may or may not be mad at you is exhausting. He walked up the few stairs to me and pulled me out of my chair into a soft, sweaty hug before kissing me, like I was hoping for.

            “Pregame superstitions are dumb,” he said, resting his head on top of mine and wrapping his arms around my waist.

            I rested my head on his chest and breathed in the smell of dirt, sweat and water; not my favorite smell, but right then and there, it was. Everything felt so right. It felt like I was supposed to be there right then and there hugging him with Emma passed out asleep on the chair next to us. Everything was falling into place.

            “I love you,” I said softly, tightening my grip around his lean waist. He backed away for a second, and I thought he was going to run from the look in his eye, but instead, he surprised me and swept me off my feet, literally.

            “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for the longest time,” he said, looking at me with piercing eyes. I couldn’t help but look away and blush.

            “How long?” I asked breathlessly.

            “Since the day we went paint shopping,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Ever since I we went on that incline. Ever since we went to that coffee shop. You’ve always been what I want.”

            “Then why haven’t you said anything?” I asked, slightly ticked at him, even though he was holding me in the most romantic way possible.

            “If I said something first, you would have run. You would have been gone the next day and I wouldn’t have ever heard from you again. I needed to wait for you, and that’s what I did. Because I love you, Avery Jones,” he said kissing me. I reached up and pulled his head down closer to me. One hand around his neck keeping me from falling, and one in his sweaty hair. All I wanted was him at that moment. I wanted everything he had to offer, but he leaned back, forcing me out of the kiss, and leaving me wanting more.

            “And I also needed an interior designer,” he said, lowering me back towards the ground and lightly setting me on my feet. “If you had run, I’d have been left with an ugly house.”

            “Oh shut up,” I said, smacking him across the bicep.

            “Hurt your hand?” he asked me with a playful tone before leaning down to kiss me quickly. “I need to go. I told everyone I’d be back in five minutes. I’m pretty sure it’s been longer than that,” he stated, backing down the stairs towards the locker room. “I love you,” he said, a grin spreading across his boyish face. I was grinning myself. I couldn’t help it. I had a boyfriend I loved, and he loved me back. “On second thought,” he said, like he had just come up with it, “Come with me.”

            When I hesitated and looked back at Emma asleep in her chair, he came back up to me. “It’ll be quick. She’ll never know you’re gone.”

            “Okay, fine,” I said warmly, taking his warm hand in my cold one and walking down towards the locker room. “We’re going into the locker room?” I asked skeptically once we reached the door.

            “Yeah, don’t worry,” he breathed into my ear, making me melt, and putting me at his will. His breath on my ear had around the same effect as me having six drinks in an hour and a half. I was intoxicated.

            “Okay,” I managed before he opened the door for me and lead me through. Reporters were everywhere and once they saw I was holding hands with one Sidney Crosby, they were all around us.

            “Sidney! Sidney! Who is she!?” one reporter screamed at him, holding out a tape recorder.

            “Let me make a general announcement,” he began, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me towards him. I put my hand on his chest like those picture perfect couples do. “This girl, Avery Jones, is my girlfriend,” he said leaning down to kiss me softly. Flashbulbs went off all around me, but I couldn’t have cared less. Sidney was all that mattered to me at that moment; my world. He pulled away and looked at me with those hazel eyes. “I love you,” he breathed, intoxicating me again. That was the third time he’d said it in the last fifteen minutes, and every time, it was like the first time all over again. I was soaring, and miracle of all miracles, I loved him.

Chapter fourteen

            My apartment seemed like a barren wasteland when I walked through the door a few days after our curtain adventure. I hadn’t been there in so long, everything had a thin layer of dust on it. I spent the majority of my time with Sidney or at his house, that now, my apartment looked abandoned. I threw my keys down on the hall table, dislodging a pile of dust from its new residence. I walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch only to have more dust particles scatter around me. I grabbed the remote and flicked the TV on, to see Sidney’s face stare back at me. Oh, FSN. It made my insides go kind of gooey even though it was just the TV, and a picture at that. Is this what I’ve been reduced to? One of those girls that gets excited when I see my boyfriend’s face?

            Before I could think about it too much, I heard a knock at the door. Who the hell knows I’m here? For all my neighbors know, I’m dead. It’s not like I’ve been here.

Emma, of course.

            “How’d you know I was here?” I questioned as I stepped back to let her in my apartment.

            “God, have you cleaned?” she asked accusingly, swiping a finger across my kitchen counter.

            “I haven’t been here in a few days. Now how’d you know I was here?” I asked, cocking one hip out and crossing my arms across my chest before leaning on the counter. It was pretty dusty…

           

            “Oh, you know. I asked your neighbor, Paul? Is that his name?” I nodded as if to say, continue. “Yeah. I asked him to call me when you came home. I’m pretty sure he thought he would get a date out of it,” she finished, opening my fridge and helping herself to a can of Coke. She’s unbelievable. I just shook my head, knowing she meant well. I mean, what friend asks your neighbor to stalk you for them? Only Emma.

            “Thanks for your concern?” I said it like a question, as I pushed myself off the counter and walked over to the fridge, grabbing a coke for myself.

            “So tell me,” Emma started, drawing out every syllable for emphasis. “Where have you been?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at me over her coke. I just couldn’t lie to her, and even if I did, she’d know I was lying. I could feel my face turning red, and averting her gaze, looked down at the floor.

            “Sidney’s,” I mumbled, almost inaudibly, but she heard. Oh, she heard me. She took a sharp intake of breath before attacking me with inquiries.

            “Sidney’s!?” she screeched at me. The anger I assumed she would have didn’t seem to be there, and instead, she seemed almost excited. “What did you do there? Have you really been there this whole time? How is he in bed?”

            “Emma!” I managed, giving her an incredulous stare and a slight smile. Always so subtle when she wants to know something.

            “What? I want to know!” she said, sitting down at my bar and crossing her legs before smoothing her pencil skirt out.

            “He’s, well, he’s amazing,” I said, pulling at a piece of hair and twirling it around my finger absently, then examining it for split ends. I was doing anything to avoid her eyes; they cut like knives.

            “I KNEW IT! He just looks like he would be amazing…” she said, sounding like she was struggling for words to continue. “You know,” she stated, winking at me and gesturing wildly around her head.

            I just nodded and smiled, gazing around at my dusty apartment before heading back into the family room where FSN, and Sidney were still on, advertising his game in Raleigh, game 3 of the Eastern Conference Finals. Emma followed me, Coke in hand.

            “So is he strong?” she asked, and I knew what she was referring to.

            “Em, I’m not going to discuss my sex life with you,” I said defensively, plopping down on the couch. Emma took her usual seat in my recliner and just looked at me. I’m going to tell her eventually. I’m one of those people that tells everyone everything that happens to me. Well, maybe not everyone, just my good friends.

            “You’ll tell me when you’re ready,” she stated blankly before turning to look at the TV. We sat in silence for a few minutes before she broke it.

            “So why aren’t you at his house now?” she asked, turning back towards me in her chair and leaning over her legs.

            “He went to Raleigh.”

            “Ah! How could I forget? I’ve been waiting to watch this game forever! I want them to sweep. I think they’ll sweep,” she said, going off into hockey mode Emma, but coming back to nosey mode Emma quicker than I would have liked.

            “So why didn’t you go with him?” she prodded, and just for emphasis, actually prodded me.

            I didn’t want to talk about it. Not with her, not with anyone. Sidney made me mad when it came to these playoff games. I wanted to punch him in the face at times. I know he meant well, but just the way he did it pissed me off, like he was the almighty hockey player and I was just his interior designer slash girlfriend on the side.

-

“Hey, why don’t I go with you to Raleigh?” I had asked him the previous night, acting on a whim and leaning into him, causing him to stop his packing and kiss me.

            “Eh, I’m not too…” he paused to let out a soft content moan. “Sure about that.”

            “Why not?” I questioned, taking a step back and looking at him. His hands were still resting on my lower back and they were slowly working their way around my waist to pull me closer to him. I dug my heels into his white burber carpet and resisted any forward movement towards him.

            I thought I was making great progress, opening up to him, and now, I wanted to go to Raleigh with him, but he basically shot me down. I wanted to cry and pout and make him let me go with him, but I never won any battles if it involved arguing with him.

            “I just don’t think it would go well with my preseason routine…” he stated lamely, shrugging his shoulders and smiling a little.

            “Alright, whatever,” I said, backing away and raising my hands. “Whatever you want Sidney.”

            “No, Aves, come here,” he said, dropping the oversized suits he had in his hand and covering the space between us with two strides. “Look, I really want you to come.” I shot him a look and he continued. “Really, I do. You’re just going to have to believe me when I say that I would really like you there.”

            “Then let me come.”

            “I can’t. I’m almost done with the season. Just wait a few more weeks and you’ll have me all to yourself. I promise,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose.

            I just stood there, pretending to be enthusiastic about the fact that in a few weeks he would be mine. I wanted him now. I was consumed in him. There was no other way to explain it.

            “Okay,” I said, trying to mask the sourness in my voice.

-

            “I don’t want to talk about,” I replied, glaring at her.

            “Come on,” Emma whined like a four year old, oblivious that I didn’t want to tell her anything. “Tell me.”

            “He didn’t want me to go to Raleigh with him,” I said bluntly, getting up from the couch and walking back into the kitchen to get a beer. This is why I never dated before Sidney.

            Emma’s mouth was hanging open and I could pretty much see her tonsils, which, call me crazy, I did not want to see.

            “Close your mouth,” I snapped at her before taking a swig of my beer and feeling my head rush a little when I turned back to the fridge.

            “You don’t seem happy,” she stated, flipping the channels on my TV nonchalantly.

            “No shit I’m not happy. My freaking boyfriend didn’t want me to go with him on a road trip. A ROAD TRIP. That pretty much screams hey, let’s just have sex the whole time,” I said with a raised tone. I couldn’t remember the last time I was so mad. And the reason I was so mad?

            “I fucking love him Emma, and he acts like this is nothing. Here I am, pouring out my heart and soul to this guy, and getting nothing in return when I offer to go with him on a road trip.”

            She was up off the couch and at my side before I could blink. I knew she’d be there for me when I needed her. “Does he know… you, you know, love him?” she asked, sitting at the bar and looking at me with her ever-knowing eyes. I shook my head at her and just lowered my head, feeling sorry for myself.

            “Well, you know what this means don’t you?” she asked me with a hint of adventure to her voice. I knew this wouldn’t end well.

            “No, Emma, I don’t know what this means, but I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway,” I said with no enthusiasm.

            “It sounds like we need to go on a road trip of our own.”

Chapter six

My alarm the next day seemed like an atomic bomb going off on my head. With every beep of my alarm, my head throbbed with pain equivalent to that of ripping a ligament or breaking a bone. It didn’t help that my phone was beeping and vibrating incessantly on my side table. Just as I went to grab it, it fell off the table and onto the ground. I groaned inwardly and rolled out of bed and onto the floor where I laid, as I answered my phone with a slight moan.

“Hello?” I grumbled into the receiver. I hadn’t bothered, more like remembered, to look at the caller I.D.

“Hey,” I heard Sidney say. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, no,” I said, sitting up too quickly which caused my head to spin. “What’d you need?” I asked.

“Well, I painted all the colors where you said, and I’ve got to say, I really like all of them. I just can’t decide on what to paint the family room…” he trailed off. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that. I couldn’t even see straight, so how was I going to deal with a client? “Maybe pink?” he tried, making me laugh.

“You want pink in your family room?” I asked playfully. “I think I could arrange that.” I finally picked myself up off the floor and made it to the door, but I had to stop and lean against it for support.

“Are you okay?” he suddenly asked. I guess my lack of suggestions and design ideas was a dead giveaway. I usually only talked about that.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, making my way out to my kitchen table. “Well, no. Emma convinced me that I needed to go to Diesel last night. I had too much to drink. I’m pulling out the aspirin right now.”

“Do you want to go get a coffee?” he asked as I was about to start the pot. Was he asking me out? Whatever, I’m sure Starbucks would be better than anything I make.

“Sure. I’ll meet you at Starbucks in thirty minutes,” I stated, dumping the water out of the pot. I was about to say I’d bring some more color choices, but he cut me off.

“We’re not going to Starbucks. Come by my house and we’ll go from there,” he said, somewhat mysteriously.

“Oh, is this a secret coffee shop?” I joked.

“Sort of,” he said with a laugh. “See you in a bit.” And with that, he hung up. I stood there and looked at my phone for a good five minutes before I actually realized what had happened. I ran back into my room, throwing a pillow at Emma, who was asleep on the couch, on the way.

“GET UP!” I shrieked at her like the world was about to end. “We’re going out!”

“Whaaa?” she managed from her spot, facedown on the couch.

“Get your ass up. We’re going out for coffee with your favorite hockey player,” I yelled back out at her from my room. I heard a thud and knew that she had fallen off the couch. Sure enough, when I peeked around the door frame, there she was, lying on the floor cursing. I pulled out a sweater and pulled a pair of jeans on. In the time it took to get myself looking decent, Emma had picked herself up off the floor. I grabbed her wrist and dragged her down to my car, telling her she needed to fix her hair and makeup along the way.
-
We made it to Sidney’s house a little over thirty minutes later. Emma still looked like a mess when we pulled up to his house. Once she realized we were there, she couldn’t stop looking. I seriously thought a waterfall of drool would start pouring out of her mouth any second.

“Come on, let’s go,” I said, getting out of the car and making my way up the front path, making sure to avoid the boulder. Emma didn’t. She walked right into it and proceeded to fall on the ground and scream. I was horrified. I just stood there like a statue, and I’m pretty sure that if his neighbors looked out their windows right at that second, they would have thought I shot her. That’s how big of a scene she was making. I turned on my heel and walked up his front steps and rang the bell.

“Hey,” he said when he opened the door. His face went from a smile to a frown in mere seconds when he noticed Emma on his lawn. “Who is that?” he asked me. I wanted to crawl under a rock from embarrassment. I should have just dropped her off back at her house. I shouldn’t have brought her.

“That, is my friend Emma. She was out drinking with me last night and I figured she could use the coffee,” I said before looking up at him. “Or, we could drop her off at home,” I added upon seeing his facial expression. “I’d just figured…” I trailed off. “She really likes you, as like, a hockey player?” I offered.

“We’ll drop her off,” he said. “I was hoping to go out with just you. I have to talk to you about some… colors,” he finished. I just shrugged and went to pick up Emma.

“Hey Em, I’m going to drop you off at your house on the way to the coffee shop,” I said as gently as possible. She just sort of looked at me with a confused look on her face.

“But Sidney Crosby?” she asked like a little kid who was told they couldn’t have desert. At that moment, Sidney came walking down the steps towards us. Emma was standing now and was gaping at him.

“Hi,” he said as nicely as possible. I know how hard it is to be nice to Emma sometimes, but so far he was doing a good job. “Avery’s told me you’re a fan?” Emma just nodded, speechless. She couldn’t even ask for her autograph and picture like she wanted. “Well, it’s nice to meet you then. So what do you say we get you home?” he asked, still being polite. She just nodded again. I’m pretty sure she didn’t know what she was agreeing to, but to her, anything Sidney said was like God speaking to her.
-
We finally made it to the coffees shop, which, I have to say, was extremely secret, after dropping Emma off. It was on this little back alley and when we walked in, no one made a big deal about seeing Sidney Crosby in their presence. We just walked straight up to the counter and placed our orders. No staring, no glaring.

“So how’d you find this place?” I asked him, curious, as we sat down with our coffees.

“I’m not really sure. But my first year here I would just drive around. I had nowhere to be and I didn’t really know anyone, so I’d just drive and explore,” he said, looking me directly in the eyes. I had to look away; I could feel myself blushing, so I began to talk about the only think I really know about.

“So for your family room,” I started as I rummaged through my bag for the paint colors I had picked out.

“Avery, can you stop talking about work for five minutes? I’ve literally known you for a week and that’s all you talk about,” Sidney said, slightly annoyed. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just wanted to go out for a coffee because I just like you?” No. That had really never crossed my mind. I just sat there staring at him. I had never had someone go out of their way to be nice to me. I had Emma, and that’s all I needed. I shook my head as these thoughts went through my mind. “Well I do like you, even if all you do is work. You need to have some fun, and I know I’m not the most fun person around, but when I’m more happy-go-lucky than someone, you know there’s a problem,” he said, now with a laugh. I cracked a smile at this. “So when I ask you to go to dinner with me, like I’m about to, please don’t talk about paint colors or what wallpaper I need, or how beautiful my granite countertops are. Okay?” I was actually smiling now, almost laughing at him. He grabbed my hand, all dramatic, and said, “Avery, would you like to go to dinner with me?” I was giggling by now.

“Of course,” I said with a slight laugh. He stood up and I never would have been able to predict what he was going to do next.

“SHE SAID YES!” he yelled to the whole shop, and naturally, they all thought he was talking about getting married. Everyone was clapping and cheering and I knew I was turning a bright fuchsia. “I’ll come get you at 7 tonight,” he said to me now, finally letting go of my hand. I could feel all the places his hand had been. “No paint colors.”

Chapter five

Sidney and I ended up buying absolutely no furniture for his house. Instead, every chance he got, he jumped on a couch or a bed and made me do the same. By the end of the day, I must have jumped on more beds than I ever had when I was little. Every person in the store was glaring at us instead of staring when we left, and I had to admit, it was oddly exhilarating to jump on all those beds with a guy I hardly know.

“So, we discussed where to paint everything. Do you remember?” I asked him as we walked to our cars in the quiet dusk.

“Yellow in the family room, gray almost everywhere else and blue in the dining room,” he repeated back to me.

“Very good!” I joked, for what seemed like the first time in a long time. I was actually having fun. Emma would be proud. “You’ve passed your first test. So just call me when you’ve got all the colors up, and I’ll come and look at them. Oh, and keep looking for furniture,” I said, backing towards my car as he still stood in the middle of parking lot, watching me go. He nodded once and waved before turning around and heading towards his Range Rover. I got in my little Kia, and turned it on, then headed in the direction of Emma’s parent’s house. She’ll want to know about this whole adventure.
-
“It was actually really fun,” I concluded to Emma over Ben & Jerry’s and hot chocolate back I my apartment. She just sat there, mouth gaping, staring at me. She moved her hands in front of her face a little and rearranged herself a bit. I’m going to get it now.

“Let me get this straight,” she started, closing her eyes to think about her attack. “You went paint shopping with Sidney Crosby.” I nodded once in agreement. “You went furniture shopping with Sidney Crosby.” Nod. “You even jumped on beds with Sidney Crosby,” she said, sounding slightly annoyed, not an Emma trait. “And, and…” she trailed off and looked around to find the right words. “And you’re not totally smitten!?” she finally shrieked at me.

“Well, I don’t know,” I stated with a shrug of my shoulders. “He is really good looking, but it’s not like I’m trying to sleep with the guy,” I said, taking another spoonful of the ice cream that was resting in my lap.

“Maybe you should,” she said with a slight smile. “Aves,” she started, putting on her cutesy Emma voice.

“Yes?” I asked, looking up at her.

“When’s the last time you’ve had sex?” she asked, putting a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

“Uh,” I replied, stuck for words. I couldn’t remember the last time I had sex. It was probably in college. Who knows. It’s not like I missed it until she mentioned it. It was never a big deal to me. “I can’t remember…” I said, bracing myself for her reaction. Her eyes grew wide and the dropped her spoon into the bucket of ice cream.

“Avery Jones! How could you let this happen!?” she yelled, jumping off the couch to pace around the apartment. I just sat there. I have to admit, I was slightly scared. “You work too much,” she said simply, and stopped her pacing.

“Well, no I don’t,” I said defensively. She just stared at me like that was the stupidest thing I had ever said.

“When’s the last time you’ve come out with me?” she asked accusingly, staring me down with eyes similar to the devil’s. I had to look away from her piercing glare. “Ha! Exactly,” she said, plopping back down on the couch, having won this battle.

“Maybe I do work too much…” I said, trailing off, swirling my ice cream around in its container.

“Let’s go out,” Emma suddenly said, hoping up off the couch and making her way to my bedroom, and then my closet. Have I mentioned she’s spontaneous? I knew if I argued it would only hurt my case, so I grudgingly pulled myself up off the couch and followed her into my closet where she began to throw clothes at my face.
-
We ended up at Diesel about an hour later, with Emma forcing me to drink. “You need to… relax,” she spluttered, already tipsy.

“Emma, I’m fine,” I said, setting down my drink and taking in her, I mean my, ruined shirt. She already spilled a martini down the front of her, but don’t worry, a cute guy was there to help her out while I watched from the sidelines. On second thought, maybe I would need a beer to get me through the night. None of this martini crap. “One Iron City please,” I asked a passing bartender with exasperation. If I’m going to be out with my drunk friend, I might as well dull the memory. He handed me an uncapped Iron City and I downed half of it in seconds. Better.

“Look Aves! A guy! He’s holding my hand!” Emma screeched at me from across the floor. I just nodded my head. She doesn’t care what I think anyway. She’s too preoccupied with her guy who’s holding her hand, and by the looks of it, trying to get in her pants. I always feel like a babysitter when she makes me go out. Maybe I should have more fun… I drank the rest of my beer and ordered another before heading out on the dance floor. Within seconds, a decent looking guy was behind me, dancing. On most nights, I’d shove him off, but something told me not to. “Yeah Aves!” Emma screamed drunkenly as her guy tried to kiss her while mine ran his hands down my thighs.

By this point, I didn’t really care about much. The alcohol had dulled my senses and I was just going through the motions. I let this guy, whatever his name was, take me over to a couch in the corner and kiss me. He kissed me for awhile, with little participation on my end. I even let him feel me up, but as soon as his hands went to my pants, I sat up, grabbed my purse and went to go find Emma. I heard him call out after me, but I kept walking. She was in the same situation as I just was, but she was much more drunk. I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the guy’s grasp. He glared at me as I dragged Em out of the club and to my car, but by that time I realized neither of us could drive. What a night this turned out to be. I sat down on the curb, dejected and waited for a taxi to pass.

“Avery, why’d you do that? I liked him,” Emma slurred as she sat down next to me and rested her head on my shoulder.

“You didn’t like him Em. The alcohol liked him,” I replied, only a little clearer than her confused words. “What was his name?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted slowly. “I’m sorry I made you come out. I can tell you’re mad now. I would be too.” She just had to use her sweet voice on me.

“It’s alright Em,” I said as a taxi approached. I got up and hailed it. “But from now on, I get to pick what we do.”

Chapter four

Monday was just like any other day. Make my morning coffee run, pick up Emma, go shopping at the strip for awhile, check out the guys, and most importantly, deal with clients. But this particular day, I only had one client who was waiting for me in the paint aisle at Lowe’s, looking particularly delicious, even more so than my coffee. Sidney was staring at the Valspar paints, my favorites, with a confused look on his face.

“Hey,” I said as I approached. Sidney turned to look at me, a bright yellow paint chip in his hand. He held it up for me to see.

“Lemon Curd?” he asked me. I had to think about it for a minute, but it eventually dawned on me that he was referring to the paint color. “They name paint Lemon Curd? I don’t even know what that is,” he said with exasperation.

“Okay, I need you to calm down,” I said with a playful tone to my voice. “Just don’t look at the names. Tell me which ones you like,” I finished, taking the paint out of his hand and inspecting it myself. I actually liked the color, so I shoved it in my pocket in case I ever wanted to use it.

“I like the idea you said. Yellows and grays, and maybe some blues. I’m open to blue,” he said, sounding proud of himself.

“Okay. Well, we can do a light blue, that’ll go well with the yellow. Or maybe even a bright blue,” I said, holding the paint chips up next to each other.

“I think I want my room to be gray,” he said, picking up a swatch of light gray with a hint of blue. “Whispering Winds, how nice,” he said dryly.

“See this?” I asked, pulling the paint chip out of his hands. “See how it goes so well with the blue? That’s because there’s blue in the gray.”

“I never realized there were so many shades of gray…” he said almost wistfully.

“There are,” I said, slightly annoyed. “Now, let’s get down to business, actually picking the colors.”

We ended up with some yellows, grays, blues, and even a green or two, all in those miniature sample cans. We even bought Lemon Curd, just for the thrill. I had never had this much fun picking out paint colors before in my life, even when I was little and my mom and I would go to Lowe’s and just look at the Oops Paints, buying any we thought were pretty, then going home and finding a wall that needed a new coat of paint. I miss that, now that I think of it.

“Avery?” Sidney asked me, almost halfway out the door, while I stood, thinking, one hand in my purse searching for something that had now slipped my mind.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I said, hoisting my purse over my shoulder and running to catch up with him.

“What’s next on the agenda?” he asked once we were halfway across the parking lot and I had pulled my new Kia Soul’s keys out of their hiding spot. I glanced down at my watch and decided I had time to do something else.

“Do you want to go look at furniture?” I asked, pointing over at Bassett and Thomasville, side by side, staring back at us, inviting us to look inside.

“Sure,” he said with one of those heart-melting smiles. “Let me just put this in my car,” he said, referring to our many paint colors.

“Okay,” I said, mostly to myself. I stood there, watching him walk to his car, thinking about what I was doing. This? This feeling doesn’t happen to me. Guys don’t do this to me. A cute guy smiles at me and I glare at them. Why am I letting this happen? Something, maybe a voice in my head, was telling me that this, this thing, is good for me, so no matter how much I try, I can’t push this guy away.

We walked into the store, and we might as well been holding hands. So many people suddenly forgot their manners, if they ever had any, and were staring at us. “Does this always happen to you?” I hissed as an old lady looked at us with one of the creepiest expressions I had ever seen in my life.

“It happens a lot,” Sidney said with a snigger.

“Whatever,” I said, brushing it off. “So what sort of stuff do you like?” I asked, running my hand over a white leather couch I was currently eyeing until I picked up the price tag. $7,000 is a major turn-off.

“I’m not sure what I like. How about we just look around?” he suggested, making his way around the displays to a bed I really like. Every time I come in here, I always see it and I always want it. Oh dear, what is he doing? Sidney threw himself face first onto the bed, like a little kid who had too much cotton candy for dessert.

“Come on Avery, jump on the bed,” he said, from the depths of the mattress.

“I don’t think we should be jumping on a bed in a furniture store,” I said, looking around to make sure no one saw what he just did.

“Live a little,” he said, standing up on the bed with his shoes on and proceeding to bounce up and down. I really thought I’d have a heart attack. He could see I was mortified and did it all the more. “I won’t stop until you get up here with me.”

“Fine fine. I’ll jump on the bed. Sit down,” I said before I hurled myself onto the bed next to him. “See? I did it. Now get down.”

“Oh no. The stakes have just gone up. Now you have to actually jump up and down with me,” he said in between hops. I could feel my throat constricting as I got up, with my shoes also on, and jumped a little.

“Okay, I’m done,” I said flopping down on the bed and just lying there, trying to catch my breath. I felt the bed stop shaking and the next thing I knew, he was right next to me.

“That wasn’t too bad, now was it?” he asked me, and truth was, I actually thought it was really fun, but I was too proud to admit someone had proved me wrong.

“It was alright,” I said, trying to suppress a smile. The smile gave me away.

“You loved it,” he said, sounding pleased with himself as he rolled over on his back next to me. I had the dirtiest thoughts to go with that and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why make me do that though?” I asked, the giggles wearing off. He sat up and got off the now ruined bed with a shrug of his shoulders.

“You seem like you need to have some fun,” he said simply, looking down at me. “Now, back to furniture. I really like this bed. Very bouncy.”

Chapter three

I'm so happy everyone likes it! :)

Emma had been calling non-stop after I told her that I talked to Sidney Crosby. She’s a huge hockey fan and apparently he’s like, the best of the best. I had no idea. I don’t watch hockey. I don’t care. But more specifically, I don’t have time.

“Aves, you have to tell me what he’s like!” Em screeched at me before I left to go to his place this morning. She was over at my apartment and we were giggling like high-schoolers about another guy she managed to pick up.

“Em, calm down. I’m sure he’s just like any other person. I’m sure he puts his pants on one leg at a time,” I stated as I picked up my portfolio in one hand and my coffee in the other.

“I’m pretty sure he jumps into his pants. None of that one legged business,” she joked. “I think you should ask for an autograph and a picture,” she continued dreamily with a smile.

“No Em, that’s you. You should ask for an autograph and a picture. Me? I should ask what his style is and what color he wants to paint his dining room,” I snapped at her before walking out of my apartment and getting in my car.

Now I’m standing outside his house and I’m not too sure about the whole normal thing. His house is gargantuan. A ridiculous size for a single 21 year old guy, as Emma has told me. It’s brick and stone and has this… thing at the top of it. Almost like a lighthouse. What would you call that, a turret? Whatever it is, I like the house. I actually love the house. It doesn’t just have a flat front either. There are so many different dimensions to it, I can’t stop looking. As I’m still looking at it, walking up the front path, he opens the door. Oh God. Emma was right. He’s extremely good looking, except for the hair. I’m not too sure what’s going on with the hair. It looks like there’s roughly 5 pounds of hair gel caked on top of his head. Other than that, I can’t stop looking at him. I almost trip over a big decorative boulder in the middle of the walkway. How could I miss that? I finally make it to the steps and walk up to greet him. I have to tell myself over and over that he’s a client and to stop drooling.

“Hi, Mr. Crosby, I’m Avery,” I say, holding out my hand.

“Sidney,” he corrects me. “Nice to meet you Avery,” he says with a smile. “I hear you’re one of the best interior designers around.”

“Well, I try,” I say, blushing. “So, what do you need done?” I ask as I walk over the threshold, but before he answers, I hold up my hand. He has no furniture, no paint, and no style. This is an interior designer’s dream, to create something from scratch.

“I picked the floor out myself,” I hear him say behind me. I turn around to look at him in shock and disbelief.

“The floor is a start… But how long have you been living here?” I ask quizzically.

“I bought the house at the beginning of the season, so almost 6 months,” he says with a smile. I just stare at him. How could someone live in such a blank canvas of a house?

“This is going to need a lot of work…” I say, trailing off, wandering through an archway into the dining room that has a beautiful inlaid ceiling. “This,” I say, pointing at the high ceiling, “is beautiful. I can’t believe you haven’t done anything with any of this. You have a beautiful house.” He shrugged.

“I haven’t had time.”

“Well now that you have me, we’re making time,” I say, turning around to look at him. “We need to start with the basics. Paint colors. What are you thinking?” I ask, gazing around at the white walls.

“I’m not really sure what I like,” he says almost apologetically. “I grew up in a pretty dark house. Everything was a dark color, so I think I want to get away from that,” he says, staring at me with those mesmerizing hazel eyes. I had to rip my gaze away.

“Well, we can go for sort of a soft, almost beachy feel,” I state, waiting for his response.

“I think I need something, a little more, you know,” he says, gesturing around. I got it. Manly.

“You want something a little more manly?” I ask with a slight smile on my lips.

“Yes,” he says, dropping his eyes to the floor.

“I got it,” I say, understandingly. “What about gray? Like a warm homey gray. And what do you think about yellow? To liven this place up a bit,” I say with a laugh. “What does a 21 year old guy even do with a house this big?” I ask suddenly, taking a queue from Emma. He seems taken aback and takes a few minutes to answer.

“I don’t know. It’s my first really big purchase. I figured I’d go all out on it,” he says, blushing a bit, but he countered quickly. “Do you want to see the rest of the house?”

“I’m going to have to see it eventually if you want any help from me,” I say with a light tone.

“Right this way Avery,” he says, leading me through another open archway and into the kitchen, which is massive. The cabinets are a beautiful chestnut color and the counters a rich black. I run my hand over the counters, gazing at the many designs hidden within.

“It’s called Super Galaxy,” he says from somewhere behind me, I’m assuming, of the counters. “I picked that too.”

“It’s gorgeous,” I say enviously. “Good job.” A thought popped into my head. “This room is really dark,” I state, abruptly looking around and noticing he has no lights of any sort anywhere. I narrow my eyes a bit at him and he, once again, blushes.

“I haven’t had time?” he says it like a question.

“That excuse is no longer acceptable,” I say with a playful edge to my voice. This guy is so easy to be around, and more importantly, he seems like he’s going to be a good client. “When can you come out with me and look at paint colors?” I ask as I wander through to the blank living room.

“I don’t have a game on Monday. I can go after practice,” he says, coming up behind me. When I turn around, he’s inches from me, and I can smell his cologne. Oh God, what is he trying to do to me? Whatever it is, it’s working.

“Uhm,” I splutter, trying to create the words I need. “I can do Monday,” I say breathlessly.

“Well then, it’s a date,” he says, stepping away from me. I want to step with him, stay close. What is happening? I never get like this. This is Emma, this isn’t me. Now he’s smiling? I feel like melting into a puddle on the ground.

“A date,” I say playfully. “Well, I have to get going. So Monday, just meet me in the paint section at Lowe’s. Their paint is better,” I say, my business side coming back out.

“Okay,” he says, walking me to the door. His eyes seem to be sparkling, for what, I’m not sure. “I’ll see you then.”

Chapter two

“Hey Em, how’d the interview go?” I ask the next day as I head to Ms. Lamar’s house, a client who wants her bathroom redone.

“AWFUL!” she yells, causing me to hold the phone away from my face until I can hear out of my ear again. “I went home to change right? And when I get to the interview, I go to cross my legs and I realize I’m wearing two different shoes!” she wails. I repress a snigger so as not to upset her. “I needed that job Aves! You don’t even know! You have your fancy apartment in downtown and I’m still living with my parents! Right now I’m working at the Y, life guarding, making nine dollars an hour. I’m currently the creepy old lifeguard. I needed that job!” I let her go, ranting and ranting while I figure out what to do with this woman’s bathroom. She can never decide on anything I bring in. One minute she likes it and the next she hates it. I’m just going to have to do what I think looks best. “AVERY?! Are you still listening to me?” she suddenly yells.

“Yeah, yeah Em. You were saying how you wore two different shoes,” I say distractedly, going over the color palette I have picked out for the bathroom. It’ll match the white quartz counters really well and the multiple windows definitely help.

“No Aves! I was saying how when I left, they said nothing! The people interviewing me didn’t even say that it was ‘A pleasure’, or whatever it is that you’re supposed to say after an interview! They said, ‘That’s all.’ And I left. I left without a word. Stop me Aves, because I’ll keep going.”

“Stop Em. You probably did fine. You’re just overreacting. You always do this. Calm down. Take a few deep breaths and relax,” I say, pulling out the blue paint chips for Ms. Lamar.

“Whatever Aves. I’m going to go throw myself off the UPMC building now,” she says dramatically before hanging up abruptly. I know she won’t do it. She’s always been a spaz, since the first day I met her. Honestly, the first thing she ever said to me was, “I swear, I’m having an asthma attack! I don’t even have asthma!” At the time I was trained in First-Aid, so according to the Good Samaritan laws or something like that, I’m obligated to help. Surprisingly, she was fine. She just got overworked because she saw her ex-boyfriend with another girl. We were 16. Seven years later and she’s still freaking out about the same things.
-
Ms. Lamar is definitely not the ideal client. “Well, I’m not sure. I really like that, but would it go with the color you have picked out?” she asks me for what seems like the forty-third time.

“Yes Ms. Lamar, that’s why I picked that color, so it would go with the cabinets in here,” I repeat.

“Oh, well, I don’t know…” she says, trailing off as my phone rings in my purse. I pull it out and glance down at the caller ID. It’s Emma, probably calling to tell me she didn’t have the nerve to jump off the building or something. I could strangle her sometimes. I answer it anyway, just to get away from Ms. Lamar and her indecisiveness.

“What is it Em?” I ask into the phone when it’s at my face.

“Did I tell you I had a zit on my cheek!? One I didn’t know about!?” she screams as if she’s about to be killed.

“No Em, you didn’t. But I’m sure you’re fine,” I say, trying to soothe her.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not!” she wails. I hear a thud in the background and I’m almost positive she’s thrown herself down on the couch dramatically, to provide emphasis to anyone who cares. “So what are you doing this fine Friday?” she suddenly asks. What’d I say? Spaz.

“I’m at Ms. Lamar’s house, helping her pick out colors and cabinets and all that jazz,” I say quietly.

“Hmm. Sounds like fun,” she says. “So what’d you do after I left Starbucks yesterday?”

“Well, I was going to call Mr. Henderson, but then I got a call from some other guy. Sidney Crosby? I don’t know,” I say nonchalantly as I draw little circles on the wall with my fingers. I hear an intake of breath on Emma’s end, and brace myself for the explosion I know is about to come.

“AVES! You do know who that is!? Don’t you!?” she shrieks into my ear. Even holding the phone a good two feet away from my face, I can still hear what she’s saying, and clearly. “Sidney Crosby!? The Captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins!? The same Sidney Crosby that had 110 points his rookie year!? The handsomely good-looking Sidney Crosby!? AVES ANSWER ME!”

“How can I answer you if all you’re doing is talking?” I ask with a laugh.

“Don’t play with my emotions Aves! Answer the questions!”

“I guess it is. I didn’t actually see the guy. He just called me,” I say with an edge of annoyance to my voice. I’m about to say more, but I can hear Ms. Lamar coming. “Yes Ms. Wilson, I’d love to answer your questions at a later time, but I’m with a client at the moment.” I look over my shoulder and smile at Ms. Lamar who has a fabric sample in one hand and a paint chip in the other. The two don’t remotely match.

“Aves! Don’t you hang up on me!” I can hear Emma yelling into the phone. “Aves!”

I snap my phone shut and turn around to face Ms. Lamar who has a slightly bewildered look on her face.

“Just another client,” I say quickly. “She has about a million questions!” I say with a laugh. Ms. Lamar nods at me before asking if I like the things she has in her hands. “Well,” I start gently, taking the color swatch and fabric out of her hands. “I have a few other ideas I’d like to run by you first. How about that?” I ask as we make our way back into her bathroom, where I’ve accomplished nothing.

Chapter one

“You need to relax,” Emma says to me as we walk into Starbucks. I have a huge portfolio under one arm and my cell phone held up to my ear with my other, talking to a client. “Put the phone down. Put it down!” she practically yells at me, like she’s trying to teach me a new trick, making a few people who are nearby turn their heads and look at us.

“Mr. Henderson? Yes, I’m sorry, I’m going to have to call you back about that wallpaper.” I click the phone shut and look at her. “Em, we’ve been over this, don’t interrupt me when I’m talking to a client,” I say angrily. I let out a sigh and rearrange the mass of things in my arms.

“Avery, you really need to slow down. You’re 23 and all you do is work,” Emma says as she orders her coffee. The guy behind the counter checks her out before giving the order to another barista. The thing about Emma is she’s beautiful but doesn’t know it. She acts so surprised when a guy asks for her number, even though her face is flawless and her hair is perfectly maintained at all times. I want to slap her.

“Em, I’m a successful interior designer at age 23. I can’t slow down. This is the life I’ve chosen, this is what I’m doing,” I state simply as I step up to the counter and the guy doesn’t so much as look twice at me. I let out a soft sigh to myself before ordering a White Chocolate Mocha, perfect for the February Pittsburgh day that’s raging on outside without us.

“Whatever Aves, but when you die of a cardiac arrest at the age of 40, don’t say I didn’t tell you.” I blink a few times at this, trying to understand what she’s saying before glaring at her as we sit down at a cute little table near a window, watching the world walk by. Emma glances down at her watch, and then looks up at me. “Aves, I forgot, I have an interview in like, 30 minutes, do you mind if I go?” she asks apologetically, her face turning red.

“No, not at all. I don’t mind,” I say as I take a sip of my coffee. I’m actually kind of glad she’s leaving because I know that if she stayed, all she would do is nag me about work. Speaking of work, I pull out my phone and dial Mr. Henderson’s number to talk to him about his atrocious floral wallpaper from the 80’s that he thinks is so wonderful. Just as I dial the number, a new number pops up on my screen, one that’s not in my contacts. I flip open my phone and put it to my ear.

“Hello?” I ask into the receiver.

“I’m looking for AV design?” a man with an accent asks my ear.

“This is AV design. I’m Avery, how can I help you?” I say in an almost robotic, practiced voice, pulling out my notepad to jot down any crucial information I may need.

“Yes, I just purchased a house here in Pittsburgh and I need help doing the whole decorating thing,” he says sheepishly.

“That’s what I’m best at,” I say. “Can I ask your name?”

“Sidney Crosby,” he says followed immediately with a clearing of the throat. Sidney Crosby? Wasn’t he some sort of hockey player? Who knows. I’m getting paid regardless.

“Okay, and I just need to know what you want done,” I say with an even tone, scribbling his name down on my legal pad.

“Everything,” he says with a high-pitched half-laugh.

“And I can contact you at this number?” I ask, all business.

“Yes,” Sidney answers briskly.

“What’s the best time for me to get in contact with you?” I continue, my business woman persona working overtime. He hesitated for a minute before answering.

“I really don’t have a specific time. My schedule changes all the time, but I’ll be around this Saturday,” he states, allowing me to draw my own conclusions.

“Alright Mr. Crosby,” I say, causing people to look at me with expectant looks on their faces. I glared at them until they turned around. Why would they be looking at me? “I’ll be in touch with you this Saturday. We can go to your place and get things figured out with colors and the whole lot.” I’m about to shut my phone when I hear him say something else.

“I’m going to need help with furniture too…” he says awkwardly. Nice.

“That won’t be a problem. That’s what I’m here for. I’ll talk to you Saturday,” I say before he can respond and click my phone shut so I can call back one waiting Mr. Henderson and his wallpaper.