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“Yeah,” she says, her chest raising and falling. Her braid has begun to come undone, and she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
I look at her to make sure she’s really okay. She seems startled.
“You sure?”
She looks at my hands on her waist, and I realize that I’m still holding her. “Sorry.” I let her go, surprised to find I miss the warmth of her body.
“It’s okay,” she whispers.
I try to focus on the task at hand, but my mind keeps drifting back to the fact that she’s the one that’s moving in.
I’m not sure I believe in fate, but her sudden appearance in my life has to be more than a coincidence. Right?
I can’t help but steal a couple glances at her as we straighten out a particularly ugly loveseat that she seems fond of. I will say, she’s stronger than she looks. Determined. And there is something about that quiet confidence of a five-foot-tall woman who insists she can do everything herself.
I plop down on the small couch and stretch out my legs. I wasn’t lying. This really was a substitute workout.
She steps back, wiping at her forehead with the back of her hand. Her shirt pulls above her waist, showing off her soft curves. I remember to look away seconds too late, and she catches me.
“You uh, you want to get some pizza for lunch?” I ask. It’s the first thing that comes to mind. I pretend to look around the room, hoping that my stare comes off as an innocent sweep of our hard work.
We’re about halfway done, maybe a bit more. It’d be nice to have lunch.
“Sure.” She shrugs. “My purse is over there?—”
“I’ll order it.” I stand, grabbing my phone off a stack of boxes she hasn’t unpacked, happy to have something to focus on besides the shape of her thighs, or the way the small of her waist becomes visible each time she bends over. “What do you want? Cheese? Pepperoni?”
“Pepperoni. Extra cheese. Aren’t I supposed to buy it for you, you know, the person who helped me.”
“Like I said, it was my workout.” I hit order on my phone.
“Thanks, uh, for helping,” she says, “you don’t have to, you know, I can grab the rest.” Her voice sounds small.
“I don’t mind helping. It’ll be faster if I help you finish. You’re pretty strong, you know.”
That makes her smile. “Thanks.” She looks proud of herself.
A strange thing constricts in my chest. I think it feels good, and I think it is because she smiled. I run a hand through my hair. “Not such a good runner though.”
Her eyes narrow and her lips purse. “I take back my thanks.”
I laugh. I like her disapproval nearly as much as I like her smile. I take my seat on the couch again. “Are you training for something?” So much for keeping my distance.
“No.” She picks at her nails. “I just run when I’m mad.”
“You get mad?” She’s so bubbly. Sassy, maybe. But bubbly for sure. Definitely not the type of person who gets mad.
“Yeah, well.” She sits in the chair opposite me. She grabs a pillow and hugs it to her chest. “Things with work haven’t been going so great.”
“You’re a teacher?” I already know this. But she hasn’t told me. Everything I know I’ve gathered from Connor or Heather.
“Yeah.”
“The school year just started though?” I wonder how work can be so bad so quickly. Unless it’s the people she works with that are the problem.
“Yeah…”
“You don’t have to tell me…” I’m surprised to find myself prying into her life. “I just wondered…”
