The Misadventures of Daria Pigwidgeon (11 page)

He stops just shy of touching distance, and reaches his arm out to me. Oh man, is this it? Is he going to just kiss me like I want him to? His hand is almost to my cheek again, and I let out another sigh, almost already feeling the warmth of it. Seconds tick by, but the warmth never comes. That’s because his hand passes my cheek, and goes right for the light switch that just happens to be right behind me. Go figure.

The garage is flooded with light. Enough that I can see Chance pulling his hand back and sticking now both in the front pocket of his jeans. He then takes a step back, once again at a safe distance from me. No sign of a kiss in sight. Stupid light. I just know he can see the wicked blush staining my cheeks. For once I wish my wild hair wasn’t secure in a knot on top of my head. I could seriously use it as a curtain right about now.

Looking right at me he says, “Fancy meeting you here rabbit.”

Even in the light, the sparkle is still in his eyes. I get the feeling that maybe he knew exactly what I would think when he moved in so close to me. And what’s worse? He knows why I’m blushing, because I so obviously wanted him to kiss me. So what do I do when faced with something embarrassing? Play it off cool like and say something witty? Ugh, no. I always use anger and resentment as a shield. No need to change now.

“Not really, I do live here you know.” I tell him with a slap in my voice.

Of course it would probably sound convincing if I were glaring or something. But hey, how menacing can I really be to a boy who towers over me just so. I guess that’s why I don’t bother glaring. Instead I have a sly grin of my own on my face. Am I flirting? Oh boy, this won’t end well. I can so see him laughing anytime now.

Only he doesn’t. His grin just turns authentic and he bows his head a little bit at me.

“True enough.” He says.

Well, it is kind of stating the obvious. Whatever, I’ll let it slide this time.

Feeling a little bold, I say, “So what keeps you out so late after dark?”

I expect a laugh of some kind to fall out of his lips, but I don’t get as much as a chuckle. He turns away and goes over to lean against his car. I follow him, feeling guilty for saying something wrong. Even though I don’t know what it was. I eye him cautiously, leaning a good distance away from him. I only realize that maybe stalking him just now probably isn’t my best move. Too late now though.

“Chance?” I utter in a whisper, not able to resist knowing he’s all right.

When his eyes turn to me, his expression is the most serious it’s been since I first met him. I want to kick myself for making him look that way. His gaze holds me in perfect serenity, and we stay in silence for a few moments. Then a need fills his eyes, and his lips part like he is going to say something. I inch closer, not wanting to miss a thing. And as fast as the need appeared in his eyes, it fades.

He shrugs and looks away. The moment’s over.

Well, for him at least. Not for me. I so want to know what he was going to say, and there is no doubt he was about to confess something. Feeling’s for a certain someone perhaps? I can only hope. I get this sinking feeling it was something important, whatever it was. And at the last second, he didn’t want to tell me. I can’t help the sting I feel from this. I want to be the person he share things with, important things. Sometimes it sucks being a new person in someone’s life. Case in point, for example.

Turning back to me suddenly, his expression is at ease again. His smile back in place, but that spark is gone though.

His voice shocks me out of my stupor and I think for a heartbeat he’s really going to confess something to me.

“So, ugh, how do you like it here so far?”

I stare at him like he’s asked me the most ridiculous of questions. That isn’t the something deep and meaningful I thought he’d share. Imitating his shrug, I look away. I’m feeling like I should be brutally honest here, and I can’t do that with his crystal clear eyes boring into me.

“Honestly? I really like it a lot. For the first time, I can’t actually say I’m safe and happy, in the same sentence. It’s nice.”

I risk a glance at him and wish I didn’t. He’s the one mimicking a fish now, what with his mouth opening and closing like it is. Clearly, I was a little too honest. I knew I should have bitten my tongue. His eyes go large as I watch, and then he’s back to looking oh so serious again. Mouth closed. He nods.

“That’s good rabbit, real good.” He whispers.

His voice wraps around me like a warm blanket, soothing my worries. His words hold no judgment, like he’s not surprised by my answer. I know differently. What with the fish act and all. Still, I appreciate the way he recovered enough to appease me. That’s what it has to be. Because why would he think I need to feel safe? It’s not like I’m holding a flag all the time that reads ‘here stands the battered soul of an unwanted demon, help at your own risk.’ I’m sure he thinks I’m the weirdo I am. Just as well.

Silence ticks on again, just the two of us watching the other. Chance looks away first.

“You should probably go and get some rest rabbit. It’s been a long day.” He says with an odd tone in his voice.

It hasn’t really been that long of a day. No longer than most. But clearly he wants to part ways. I just can’t help wondering if we would have maybe kissed. Again. It felt that way to me. Or it could just be my wants projecting. Which is very likely.

So I simply nod.

No since stalling an awkward moment, I step away from the car and walk over to the stairs, not looking back. As I’m hallway up the stairs, I hear him moving off in the direction of his house, not bothering to close the garage door. As it turns out is a good thing, because as he saunters off I think I hear him mutter something under his breath. I freeze in mid-step and glance back to his retreating figure. My mind is seriously spinning.

Why would he say, “I just hope it’s not another long night?”

I couldn’t have hear him right, could I have? Would that mean, that maybe, he’s thinking about me at night? I blush as I can only imagine what a guy would be thinking at night, in bed, alone. No. He couldn’t have been thinking that. Could he? Huh, maybe I’ll be getting that kiss sooner than I thought.

But why would he sound like he’s bothered? Am I that repulsive that he would think it’s bad to like me? Man, I hope not. Talk about self-esteem issues. If he’s not thinking anything pervy, then what could he mean? Pondering this, I slip inside my empty apartment that suddenly feels bigger than it did before. Or maybe I just feel lonelier than I did before.

It’s not until later when I’m already in bed trying to fall asleep, that I have a thought. It’s about Chance of course. What if he is plagued with bad dreams? He wouldn’t be the first person to have nightmares. I’ve had my fair share of ones that resemble that of a lifelike replay. Could that be it then? Nightmares have him so down.

Drifting off to sleep, I think that maybe I’m overanalyzing something that probably isn’t even there.

Yes, that’s probably it.

I sleep.

The next day rises in a wash of sunshine, with the illusion that it’s warmer than it really is outside. Being Saturday, I don’t have to go through the long hours in a building surrounded by anonymous teens rushing from class to class. Instead, I get to work a double surrounded by anonymous customers, with Toby. He’s like a breath of fresh air, and after the awkward time I had with Chance the night before? I can totally use some fresh air.

Luckily there was loads of that on my walk into work. And like I thought, it was colder than it seemed. I made sure to keep Chance’s jacket closed tight around me (and no, I haven’t returned it yet. It’s not like he’s asked for it back, so I’m free of stalker illusions). The downside of walking into work, with a jacket from a boy that still smells like him, even though I’ve had it for a week? It only gave me time to think more about his weird muttering the night before.

Unfortunately, I haven’t come to any other conclusions.

Other than he’s clearly weirder than me.

And that’s saying something.

None the less, by the time I got into the work place, Toby was already there prepping for the day. So regardless of my slightly frozen fingers, I set out to help him slice a heap load of tomatoes and cucumbers. Thank goodness we’re merely a lunch and dinner sort of restaurant. I don’t think I could handle a customer so early in the morning. Heck, I can barely handle Toby’s constant blushing and eye avoidance. Is that what everyone sees when they look at me? If so, then I really need to change up my routine.

By mid-morning, the customers begin rolling in and all thoughts of having an easy Saturday go flying out the window. I have to give Toby and I some credit though. We moved like a matched pair, like we knew a step before where to shift our bodies to not smack face first into the opened oven door. Or maybe I just got tired of smashing into it and started ducking. Whatever the case, by the afternoon, we were both still alive and kicking. The same can’t be said for the floor of the dining room.

Which is why, as Toby refills our stock supply out front. I’m dancing around with a broom and dustpan. All right, so I’m not really dancing. More like I’m trying to move at a somewhat steady pace, before we get bombarded again. Toby reassured me that this will most likely be it for day, but given he said the same thing about an hour ago. I don’t really believe him.

So, when I’m satisfied with my sweeping skills and walking back into the back room, it’s when it happens. Toby speaks. And not about work related directions. I have to say I’m in so much awe, that I almost drop the broom. I don’t of course. But I do feel rather cornered. But that could be from the way he hovers so close blushing so bad, I think he might pass out.

“Did you hear about the Homecoming game next Friday?” He asks with an audible squeak.

Shifting a little bit away from him, I position ourselves to that we face each other at a better distance in the doorway of the front room. Feeling less trapped, I think about all the signs and banners that have been slowly added to the décor at school. So yes, I have heard about the Homecoming game. It’s kind of hard to avoid.

So I nod and say, “Um, yeah. I might have heard something about it.”

He nods at me rapidly, like I just answered a very important question right. Then he blushes some more.

“It should be good. Chance is super stoked about it, as is the rest of the team.”

I smile at him. Chance’s name makes it easy.

“I bet. Homecoming is a big even right?” I ask.

He nods some more again, and this time he looks up at me grinning.

“Right, right.” He says in a way like I just offered to hand him the sun.

Why do I suddenly feel like in trouble?

He adverts his eyes as he says, “So is the dance that follows on Saturday.”

Oh. Now it all makes sense. Why he’s a little more high-strung than usual. The dance. Next Saturday.

“Right. The dance.” I reply with all the whit of a pencil.

Now who’s rocking the eye avoidance?

That would be me.

Honestly I haven’t even thought about it, the dance I mean. I’m sure it’s a big deal to girls my age, right there beside prom. But for the life of me, I can’t get excited about it. Maybe it’s because I’m already neck deep in normal teen girl stuff. I’ve already got my own place, a job, and school. I’m not a hundred percent sure I could attend a dance and not have a freak out. Granted, if Chance were to say, ask me, I’d probably turn into a mass of giggles and rush off to buy a sparkly dress.

As it is, I think this might be the high school experience I’ll be skipping. I know I’ve been ragging about just being one of the normal bright and shiny people. But I’m just now getting some semblance of a grip. Any shack up, and I just might slip and fall. I need easy peasy right now. Which is why, as I finally look back to Toby, I feel so bad for knowing I’m going to have to turn him down.

Smiling like he has me right where he wants me, he says, “So about that, er, I was wondering if….you know….were planning on going?”

He’s not going to make this easy is he? I’m really going to have to come right out and say it. Oh man, I really am a demon. Sometimes being me sucks.

Aiming for a non-guilty smile, I say “Actually. I don’t think I’m going to go this year. I’m still getting the hang of things. Plus, you know, I think I have to work.”

He looks shot down before I even finish talking. I’m just glad I didn’t ask him if he were going. I figured that might be a little over kill. He’s already looking bummed. No need to make the poor boy cry. He does move away from me though, and feeling bad aside, I’m glad for the breathing space.

With a less enthusiastic nod, he says “Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to go either. Those things can get a little boring.”

He nods. I nod. Then he looks to me with a glowing smile. I cringe.

“You know what? We can totally have our own dance here. Hardly anyone will come in I bet.”

Excuse me? That’s so not what I was thinking when I said I didn’t think I’d go because of work. Man, I really need to get better at dodging overly awkward and friendly boys. And is it weird that I’ve only ever worked with Toby? Doesn’t anyone else work at this joint? If he wasn’t shyer than me, I might be a little creeped out.

Thankfully, and I do mean thankfully, I’m saved from having to answer. New customers in the form of Ashley and Jane walk through the door. I literally skip over to them with a relieved smile. I take my time making their subs, and I even go sit with them to make sure I avoid Toby. The same goes for later when they leave after only staying to eat. I make sure to keep busy, even if that involves choosing to clean the men’s bathroom (and can I just say yuck - Is it really so hard to aim for the freaking toilet?) and scrubbing the dining room floors.

By the time we’re closing and locking the door, I’m pleased with my avoidance skills. I didn’t even have to use my memory block ability to get him to forget about the non-dance dance offer. Of course, I should have totally bit my tongue and kept those thoughts to myself. No sooner is he pulling the key out of the now locked door. He’s falling into step with me.