Sex Snob (27 page)

But my mom’s comment effectively stopped me in my tracks when I reached the front door.
“You have to stop running, Amanda,” she yelled down the stairs. “You’re always running from something.”

“You’re right, mom.
I
am
always running from something. But this time,” I said, looking up the stairs at her slender frame, “I’m actually running
toward
it.”

***

I practically sprinted to my car. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Or maybe it wasn’t that I was eager to get
away
from something so much as I was eager to get
to
something. Or some
one.
My visit to my mom’s had finally made me certain of what I wanted: Shane. Whatever it would take to get him back, I was willing to do it. And as I raced down the highway even faster than my standard police magnet speed, I hoped . . . I prayed that I hadn’t ruined our relationship irreparably. It had taken only a few short hours at my mother’s house to find the clarity that I’d been missing for the past five or six years. Who knew that her ridiculous free-spirited lifestyle could have such a profound effect on me?

Shane had shared his true feelings for me, and I hadn’t been kind with my responses.
My words and actions had been chosen intentionally to push him away. And it had worked. I was nothing if not thorough. By the time I’d finally realized my mistake, I feared Shane had already had enough of my rejection. Of my selfishness. What I feared most was that he’d finally had enough of
me
.

I had no idea what I’d even say when I saw him.
It all felt so ridiculous, so over the top. Would I just show up at his house and confess that I had been an asshole? Tell him that I needed him more than I needed my next breath? That during the last few weeks, I’d felt like I was drowning and I needed him to rescue me?
Probably not.
That all seemed way too corny to vocalize, despite the fact that it was exactly how I felt. My best bet was just to wing it.

I was counting on the fact that Shane would be at his house, but when I got there and didn’t see his Mustang in the driveway, I headed toward the only other place I hoped he’d be: CrossFit.

Relief flooded through me when I spotted his car in the CrossFit parking lot.
But my relief was quickly replaced by an emotion I didn’t know very well: embarrassment. I may have a habit of putting myself in situations that could be deemed embarrassing by others, but surprisingly, I rarely felt embarrassed. However, I had a creeping suspicion that embarrassment and I were about to become damn good friends.

I pulled into a spot about fifteen feet away from the front of the gym, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to go inside.
Shane probably had a class, and I couldn’t just barge in like a lunatic and declare that I was falling in love with him.
Could I?
I briefly considered texting him and telling him to come outside and talk to me for a few minutes, until I remembered that he wouldn’t have his phone on him if he was instructing a class. I looked down at the clock on my car radio: 4:42. Class would be finishing up soon anyway.

But patience had never been one of my many virtues, so it was time for Plan C.
I opened my door, hung myself halfway out, and pounded on the horn.
What is it with me and horns today?
I stood just outside my car screaming between each blaring beep. “Shaaaane!” Beeeep! “Shaaaane!” Beeeep! “Shaaaane!” Beeeep. “Come outsiiiide!” I kept up my obnoxious courting ritual for a few minutes until Shane emerged with an audience who must have followed him out to see what all the commotion was. Lily and Kate stood with several other CrossFit members, all of whom were clearly already amused. They seemed to be waiting to see what I would do next. They weren’t the only ones. I really had no idea what I planned to do from here.

I remained behind my open door, feeling protected by the barrier it created between Shane and me.
Though his solid arms were crossed in front of his hard chest, he seemed more confused than upset or irritated with me. Thankfully, Shane spoke before I did. “What the hell are you doing, Amanda?” My name sounded both foreign and intimate as it rolled off his tongue.

Good question.
How did I answer that? I had no idea what I should say. I’d never been known for having a way with words. I couldn’t give some long drawn out speech like characters did in the books and movies when they professed their love so eloquently that it could not possibly go unrequited. This wasn’t
The Notebook
for Christ’s sake. I was standing in a parking lot in a high school gym uniform that was over a decade old.
Not exactly the most
romantic
scene anyone’s ever witnessed
.

It would probably be best to keep whatever I said short and
sweet. I squinted and held up my hand to block the afternoon sun as I struggled to read Shane’s expression. He remained stoic, patiently waiting for my answer. For the first time since last night, I allowed myself to remember our conversation outside the bar—when Shane had told me he was fighting for me.

“I’m fighting back,” I yelled.

“What?” he asked, shaking his head and running
his fingers through his unruly hair. “I don’t get it.”

“Last night,” I began, “you said you were fighting for me.”
My voice grew calmer, quieter, as I hoped he wouldn’t deliver to me the same rejection I had so harshly thrown at him time and time again. “You asked me to fight back,” I reminded him. “Well, this is me fighting.” I closed my car door and threw my open arms in the air, essentially letting him see me for the first time in well . . . ever.

“I don’t get it,” he repeated.
“Last night you left like you always do. You told me you didn’t have feelings for me. You were pretty clear about that.” I could see the pain in his eyes as he spoke.

Like fans at a tennis match, our spectators’ eyes bounced back and forth between us.
And I hoped the dark clouds that had been settling over us weren’t an omen of how this conversation would end. I stepped a few more feet toward Shane, but something inside me prevented me from getting too close. So I stopped in front of the hood of my car
.
I needed the buffer that the ten feet of distance between us provided. I needed a buffer for what I was about to reveal.

The drops of rain that began to fall on my face would effectively hide the tears when they managed to work their way past the
corners of my eyes. I knew I had to be honest with him. “I can’t pretend to feel something I don’t,” I shouted as the steadily increasing rain began to drown out my quivering voice. The last time I had said those same words to Shane, they had devastated him. They had broken him to pieces. And they had done the same to me. But now I was using those words to bring us together. “I can’t pretend to feel
nothing
for you.” I wiped away the rain that had gotten in my eyes because I couldn’t take them off Shane. I inhaled sharply, preparing for what I was about to say. “I can’t pretend I’m not falling in love with you.”

Smiles spread across the onlookers' faces, and Shane’s posture softened noticeably.
He uncrossed his arms, dropped his eyes to the pavement, and rubbed his forehead, clearly contemplating what to say next. “I still don’t understand. How do I know you’re serious?” he finally asked as his gaze again met mine. There was hesitation in his voice, but his eyes held hope: hope that I would say whatever it was he needed to hear.

I tilted my head up toward the sky, and I couldn’t avoid acknowledging the
cliché. “It’s like . . . I didn’t even notice how sunny it was until it started raining.” I returned my eyes to his, and I saw that he’d stepped from under the gym awning into the rain with me. “These last few weeks without you . . . I’m just tired of it pouring.” I raised my arms in a shrug before letting them fall back to my sides. “I’m fucking soaked.” I laughed nervously as I tugged on my gold gym uniform, which was clinging to me and practically see-through from the rain. "I miss the sun, Shane. I miss
you
."

I could see him wondering what to say from here.
“What changed?” he asked incredulously. “Why would your feelings suddenly be any different?" He needed clarification; proof that I meant what I’d said.

I thought for a moment before settling on my answer.
“I can’t live with chickens, Shane!” I yelled frantically through the downpour as if that justified my sudden change of heart.

“I don’t even think I wanna know what you’re talking about.”
Shane’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he shook his head as he turned away from me toward the building and our crowd of unwanted spectators.

“My mom,” I blurted out to Shane’s back, hoping that my words would stop him from walking away, “she never trusted anyone after my father left her.
She didn’t wanna feel that pain again. She’s almost fifty now, she’s barely ever home, and she puts sex toys in her hair.” Unable to get my point across, I groaned in frustration until I found the right words. “She’s lonely.” I could hear my voice shaking. “Because she never gave anyone a chance again. She lives with chickens. You told me I was like her,” I yelled as tears started to mix with the rainwater on my cheeks. “I’m not,” I added quietly, “like her, I mean. At least I don't wanna be.” I took a deep breath. “Don’t you see, Shane? I never even gave you a
chance
to break my heart.”

I glanced over Shane’s shoulder toward Lily, knowing that my comment would elicit a response from her.
She didn’t disappoint. “That’s
my
line,” she said to Kate, smiling proudly.

“I’m giving you that chance now . . .” I continued,
“to break my heart . . . to be my wildest dream, or my biggest mistake . . . to be whatever it is you’re supposed to be to me.” I could taste my tears when I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I can’t live with chickens, Shane,” I repeated softly. For the first time, I felt as if a weight had actually been lifted
off
me at CrossFit. I didn’t know what Shane’s reaction would be because he still hadn’t turned back to face me, but I felt better just knowing that I said what I needed to say. That this time if I was left alone, it wouldn’t be because I had been the one to leave.

It felt like I waited an eternity for Shane to turn around.
And when he finally did, I could tell that his smile had probably been there through most of my chicken speech. “I knew I could get ya to fight a little harder, Bishop,” he said with a wink. Leave it to Shane to ruin a perfectly romantic moment with a smartass comment.

And just like that
, we were back on solid ground.

“And by the way,” he added, looking over his shoulder at our audience, “I told her I’d get her to break her rules.”

What?
Now I was the one who was confused. “Rules plural? I think you only made me break Rule Number 2 if I’m correct.” I smirked at him, urging him to elaborate.

“You didn’t sleep with me until our fifth date.
That breaks Rule Number 1, I believe.”

“First of all, you’re the only guy who would brag about getting laid after a longer period of time.
And second of all, that’s impossible because we didn’t go on any dates.”

“Um . . . yeah we did,” he corrected.
“Our first date was Kate’s birthday. I invited you, and you came, so it counts as a date. Our second date was the CrossFit competition. I drove you home. Date,” he shrugged.

I rolled my eyes.
“You’re really grasping at straws. You know that, right?”

“Date number three was rock climbing.
It’s a date because I paid for your lunch. And date number four was obviously the pool hall when you referred to me as your boyfriend. I even kissed you against your door. And you loved it if I recall.” His tongue swept across his wet lips at the memory.

Well, I can’t argue about loving it.

“Four dates. The barbeque was our fifth when we had sex in my pool.”

“Seriously?”
Lily yelled. “That’s totally hot! You didn’t tell me that.”

“Okay,” I conceded, interrupting Lily's outburst. "I'll admit that maybe you made me break two of my rules.
But there’s no way in hell you’ll be responsible for breaking my third.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, his blue eyes sparkling seductively.

“Yeah.” I stepped toward him, and my hands found the back of his neck in a heartbeat, grasping his wet hair. “Because I’m breaking that one myself,” I whispered against his lips before I pressed my own against them. Shane cradled me in his arms as our tongues tangled slowly. This was what the future was supposed to taste like.

Surprisingly, I’d forgotten there was even an audience watching until we heard some clapping and “woo-
hoos."

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” Shane whispered after he pulled away just enough to lean his forehead against mine.

“The rain metaphor was a little over the top, wasn’t it?” I asked with a smirk.

“Maybe just a little,” he said as he nibbled my bottom lip, “but I loved every second of it.
Now let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”