Chapter One (Take... I dunno... 45)

Completed new Chapter One (subject to revision, of course) The copy/paste didn't go smoothly, but you'll live. I promise.

___________________________________________________________

Chapter One

Liz felt the weight of at least three sets of eyes upon her, the sensation as unnerving as it was tedious at this point.

“Are they looking?” Her roommate and sometimes best friend asked, taking another lick of her ice cream. Liz didn’t know why. It would have been easier for everyone if Sam just took one—or both—of the gawking males by the hand and led them behind a barn somewhere. Wasn’t that some sort of rite at a fair?

“Well?”

“Of course they’re looking, Sam. They’re always looking at you.”

“They’re looking at you, too.” Sam thrust the ice cream into Liz’s face. “Lick and see what happens.”

“I’d rather not.” Liz pushed the cone away, but it sprang back immediately.

“Just lick it. They’ll love it. Watch.”

“No, thank you.” Liz was getting more than a little impatient now and knew it showed, but couldn’t find it in her to care. “They’re already arguing over who gets stuck with me.”

“I’m sure that’s not-” Before Sam could finish, they’d started a three count with their hands.

Paper beats Rock, Liz thought.

Rock wanted a rematch, but Paper had already begun a triumphant swagger toward their bench. Sam took a break from sucking an invisible droplet from the point of her cone to ask about him before he could overhear.

“Is he okay? Should I go with him or the other one?”

Liz shrugged and scrutinized the approaching pair. Neither of them sparked any strong feelings. Typical guys. Paper reached them first and, like any well-trained scam artist, greeted the friend first.

“Good evening,” he said to Liz, hands conspicuously shoved into his pants pockets. “I’m Mark and this is my friend.” Rock grimaced and muttered a name they didn’t quite catch. Sam nudged Liz with the pointiest part of her elbow; she’d missed her cue.

“I’m Elizabeth, and this is Samantha.” She held her hand out for Paper Mark. He eyed it for a full three seconds before recognizing the commonplace gesture. He gulped as he offered his own, as though anticipating the contact to be painful. Liz rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand anyway, accustomed to this type of response. His marked sigh of relief amused her to no end.

Emboldened by his friend’s success, Rock offered his own hand with only a wary flinch, then quickly withdrew to introduce himself to Sam with a stronger, more appropriately timed handshake. Rock and Liz stood awkwardly while their friends met one another, each laying it on pretty thick.

“Pleasure,” Sam said with a giggle and blush.

“It’s all mine,” he responded. Somehow, Liz managed not to gag.

Instead, she gathered their trash: some napkins and a mostly untouched ice cream that had already served its purpose. Sam quirked an eyebrow over her next ex-boyfriend’s shoulder as though to ask, Well?

“Triple A,” Liz answered aloud. The boys glanced between them, then literally shrugged it off.

Satisfied with Liz’s assessment, Sam leaned in to her partner, capturing his attention and leaving poor Rock on his own. When Liz suggested they go and play some games, the look on his face made her anxious. Paper Mark shot him a warning glare, urging him to do his duty as wing-man, while Sam continued to prattle on, oblivious.

Rock manned up eventually, extended his hand then took it back. Offered his arm but let it fall. Sam took pity and pretended not to notice his struggle, setting out for the closest booth on her own. He caught up quickly and pulled money out for both of them before Liz had the chance. She frowned, but inwardly commended his chivalry.

“Look, Rock,” she said as she pulled out a five, “you really don’t have to impress me.”

“Rock?”

Crap! What was his real name? She couldn’t remember, so she just continued her thought, hoping he wouldn’t get offended.

“You don’t have to worry about keeping me busy. As long as he doesn’t hurt her, I’ll leave Sam and Paper Mark alone. She’s a big girl, she can handle it.”

Rock blanched. “Paper Mark? You, um... You saw that?”

Liz turned her head to the side and gave him the best Duh look she could muster. Did he really think women didn’t notice things like that? Then she thought of Sam and thought that maybe most of them didn’t. Instead of getting defensive, as Liz had learned could happen when calling a man on his bullshit, Rock seemed properly embarrassed by their game.

“It’s not that-” he tried. “I didn’t- I mean, you’re not-” He gestured to Liz’s body and shrugged his shoulders as though it explained everything. Oddly enough, it was the closest thing Liz had gotten to a compliment in a while.

“Come win me something,” she said. “It’s been a long time since Sam got me a gentleman.”

In the time it took him to win her two overstuffed dragons and a framed print of Marvin Martian, Liz learned that Rock’s real name was Brent, he still lived with his parents, and he’d just gotten out of a volatile relationship. From what Liz could tell of the details—that were really none of her business—Rock’s ex was a tad irrational, but he may or may not have driven her to it.

Rock never stood too close or indicated he wanted more than a friendly sounding board, but Liz was used to that. She jumped in surprise when he patted her shoulder awkwardly and thanked her for listening as they approached Sam’s previously appointed meeting place.

Liz smiled genuinely in response. “No problem. Thank you for the prizes. And thanks for not ditching me.”

Rock bristled and Liz took it as a cue to explain herself.

“Most guys do. Paper Mike would have.” Rock continued to stare, as though expecting her to continue, so she did. “I mean, he’s a solid Triple A, and you’re not. But those guys usually stick together, and-”

“What the hell is a Triple A?”

“Oh, uh, Average American Asshole?” Liz tried to soften the blow by quickly qualifying, “But you’re not one. Obviously you hang out with them, but there’s hope for you. Just stop picking dates from across the room, and I think you’ll be fine.”

Rock, who had grown steadily more red as Liz spoke, clenched his fists a few times. “You don’t know me. You don’t know my friends, and you have no room to make judgments about us. I mean, you left your friend alone with some guy you called Triple A after two words and a handshake. What kind of person does that make you?”

An adult, Liz wanted to say, but held herself in check. Ignoring his flinch, she grabbed Rock by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. She saw anger at what she’d said. Anxiety for what she’d do. But under all of that, beneath a dozen shaky layers of bravado and insecurity, she saw heart.

With unapologetic confidence she said, “You’ll be a good man someday, Rock” and continued on her way.

“I’m twenty-four,” he called once he’d shaken off the confusion. Liz smiled to herself but didn’t look back. It amazed her how little people understood about themselves. What did a number prove anyway?

Sam approached and stormed past in a huff, neither greeting nor turning to see if Liz had followed.

“Triple A?” she asked as they climbed into the car.

“Shut up, Liz.”

Liz turned on the radio, drowning out Sam’s dramatic Please ask me what happened even though I claim not to want to talk about it sighs. Being friends with a woman could be so tiring. Liz spared a moment to fondly remember the old days. In high school she’d had a drama-free male best friend, only one failed attempt at dating, and no one at home really knew or cared what she got up to.

She’d had freedom, once upon a time. Now, she had Sam.

The radio clicked off about halfway home, cutting Liz off mid-lyric as she sang along.

“That guy was a creep,” said Sam. Liz shrugged; she’d as figured as much. Sam wasn’t really looking for input anyway. “We’re up in the ferris wheel, right, and we’re talking about a band-”

“Which band?”

“I don’t know, that one you listen to with the song I like. Anyway, we start making out-”

“Because of the song you like?”

“It has that part about electric kisses and I wondered if they were real.” Sam batted her eyes coyly, indicating she’d played the unsuspecting idiot well. “Now stop interrupting. So we’re making out and he puts my hand right there. Like, there, you know? And I’m like, what does he expect me to do right here in public? As soon as we got on the ground, I walked away. He can call me when he has some respect.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“Yes.” She said it forcefully. She would not be budged on this.

“So you seduced him, he took further than you expected, you told him he was a jerk, then gave him your number.” Liz tried, in vain, to see the logic. Sam chose not to understand her confusion.

“Think he’ll call?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Liz looked at her friend—beautiful, blond, blue-eyed Sam—and gave her the honest answer: “I have no idea.”

Sam squirmed for a moment, uncomfortable under Liz’s judgmental gaze, before turning the radio up. Neither of them spoke on the short drive home, although Sam’s phone did alert them to several text messages.

“You’ll miss this,” said Sam as they pulled into the drive. “Admit it. Next week we graduate, and the week after that we fly home … to the real world. Just two weeks. Try and have some fun. Oh, I know!” She perked up and clapped excitedly. “We can go the concert tomorrow! Didn’t you recognize the band on the flier?”

“We don’t have tickets, Sam.”

“Oh, I got tickets.” Sam adjusted her cleavage. “Just try and play along for once.”

“Did you have to wear that shirt?”

Liz looked down at her faded favorite and nodded. “It’s comfy.” It’s also the band we’re seeing, she added in her head. “Look at this way, you’ll be super hot standing next to me.” Sam hit Liz with her bag but smiled as they made their way to the ticket agent. Poor man didn’t stand a chance.

Two General Admission wristbands later, Sam and Liz had an hour to kill.

“Bumper cars?”

“We’re not twelve, Liz.”

“Ferris wheel? I promise not to get handsy.”

“Haha. Too funny.”

“So, same thing we do every night, Pinkie?”

“One man at a time.”

Liz felt his stare before she saw him. At the very center of the closest seating area, beckoning them forward with his eyes, sat the destroyer of her peaceful evening. He wore a blue collared dress shirt and black suit jacket, ridiculously overdressed for a night dodging cow poo. An inch or so of shiny black hair stuck out in ways that hinted at indifference, but Liz knew better. Every aspect of his haphazard look had been meticulously engineered to seem so.

As a general rule, Sam let the men come to her, but one look at GQ’s electric blue eyes and Liz knew he’d be an exception.

She was right. Of course.

Liz saw nothing special about him, good or bad, so her vague warning of “Be careful” had little conviction to it, though she remained on her guard. He stood as they approached and shook hands with Sam, but not Liz. Liz respected that, though not enough to leave them alone just yet. She couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but something about the guy made her uneasy.

Sam cleared her throat and Liz made the usual introductions. “I’m Elizabeth and this is Samantha.”

“Samantha Browning, but you can call me Sam.”

“Jonathan,” he said, turning Sam’s hand to kiss it. “Truly a pleasure … Samantha.”

Sam flushed and shuddered. He was British. She was done for.

“Shall we, then?” He motioned to the other seats at the table, offering Sam the chair closest to him. Liz plopped down directly across from him, dedicated to becoming the roadblock every man feared she’d be.

“I love your accent,” said Sam. “Where are you from?”

“Caught that, did you? I’m from a small village near London. Ever been?” Liz had always wanted to go to London, wanted to go lots of places, but the damp, rolling greens of the UK in particular had always called to her. She didn’t tell Jonathan that, just smiled and shook her head.

“So what brings you to our town?” Sam asked, fingering the charm on her necklace. To his credit, Jonathan didn’t even glance downward.

“Seems we have something in common,” he said, holding up his arm to show his neon yellow wristband.

“You don’t strike me as the General Admission type,” said Liz.

“What do you mean?” He seemed genuinely bewildered.

Liz motioned to his tie, knotted just loosely enough to appear casual. “Little formal for standing room only, don’t you think?”

“Oh this? Nothing wrong with looking your best, eh Samantha?”

Sam giggled flirtatiously but glared daggers at her friend. Liz took it as her cue to butt out.

Over the course of the evening, they learned many things about Jonathan. He was twenty-five, single and had recently acquired his Master’s in Cultural Anthropology from a nearby university. Recently, his life consisted mostly of traveling the world, looking for different cultures to study and trying to decide how best to write his dissertation. Thus far, he’d been through most of Asia and parts of South America.

Sam just couldn’t hear enough of his exploits. She listened intently to each word that he said, Ooo-ing and Ahh-ing in all the right places, her eyes following the motion of his lips as he spoke. Anytime he paused for breath, Sam found five questions to ask him. She seemed intent on learning an entire world’s worth of knowledge in one night.

Liz, on the other hand, was bored stiff. The way he talked about each country and its people was all too reminiscent of a history lesson for her. She felt as if she were back in her old living room, trying to tune out one of her father’s shows.

“So what’s been your favorite country so far?”

“Easily, that would have to be Peru. The fascinating thing about Peruvians …”

Liz tuned out then, and after twenty minutes of monotonous droning, she was convinced she did not like Jonathan. She had no idea know why; there was nothing not to like about him. His smile was charming. His dimples were cute. When Sam spoke, he made eye contact and repeated key phrases—a clear indication of perception. Something just wasn’t right.

“If you’ll please excuse me.” Jonathan’s propriety interrupted her thoughts.

“Isn’t he wonderful?” Sam squealed as he disappeared behind the snack stand.

“He’s interesting,” Liz lied.

“He’s absolutely fascinating! Did you hear all the amazing things he’s done? All of the exotic places he’s been?”

“And I’m sure this has nothing to do with dark hair, blue eyes, and a charming English accent?”

“Of course not!” Sam tried to look offended. “But while we’re on that subject, isn’t he adorable? His smile just makes me melt!”

“I don’t like him,” Liz confessed.

“What? Why? What did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything. He just gives me a bad feeling.”

Sam was completely nonplussed. “Is he dangerous? Crazy? Controlling?”

“It’s nothing serious. I just don’t trust him.”

“So it might be a personal problem then? Maybe you’re seeing that you wouldn’t like him. That’s fine with me, you can’t have him anywa-”

“He’s lying to us, Sam!” Liz hadn’t thought the words until they’d escaped but knew them to be true.

“Lying? Why would he-”

“Refreshments, ladies?” Jonathan had returned with a tray laden with snacks and beverages. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I picked something from every food group. I hope you don’t mind.”

It wasn’t unheard of for one of Sam’s nicer or more desperate dates to try and ply her meddling friend with free food or alcohol, but Liz’s dislike for Jonathan grew exponentially when he placed the heavy tray directly in front of her. Sam snatched the lemonade, leaving Liz with the rest. Jonathan seemed pleased by this.

“What will you be having?” Liz asked, pushing the tray slightly away from herself.

“None of that, unfortunately. I have a strict diet to adhere to. Nevertheless, I am positively famished.” He reached into his jacket and pulled a small plastic bag from the inside pocket. As if in response to their yet unasked questions, Jonathan continued to speak. “Trail mix is actually very good for you. I’m able to keep it as part of my diet because it is rich in protein and other essential nutrients. It also contains the proper amount of carbohydrates. It really keeps my energy up!”

Jonathan laid out the mixture in carefully measured portions on his own empty tray, then picked through it to find exactly the right combination of pieces per bite. Liz couldn’t quite unravel his formula, but noticed he favored pretzels, rationed peanuts, and seemed to be avoiding fruits altogether. He spent an inordinate amount of time chewing and swallowing, seeming to savor every morsel, grinding it to a fine paste before passing it on to his stomach. Finally, Jonathan followed every bite with a gulp from one of the water bottles.

Liz knew it was impolite to stare, but his meticulousness was something to behold. Never in her life had she seen such care taken with a snack. She wondered if he’d had a bad experience with choking as a child.

Or maybe he was just an anal retentive freak.

Eventually he finished eating, and so the show was over. He rolled the remaining pieces, mostly raisins, up into a napkin and brought his tray to the trash. Draining the last of his bottled water, he pulled a small notebook from his pocket and scribbled down a few lines before looking up.

“How’s the corn dog, Lizzie?” He smiled in her direction.

“Fabulous, Johnny,” she answered thickly, mouth still full. “Little dry though. Needs mustard.”

He laughed politely as if he saw nothing wrong with her manners. Sam, however, looked fit to kill.

Jonathan plowed through, oblivious. “How long have you two known each other?”

“Almost seven years.”

“Seven years, you say? And…do you know everything about one another?”

“Umm…yeah. I’d say so. Pretty close anyway.” Liz looked to Sam for confirmation, but she just stared at Jonathan. Or rather, she sat facing him, but seemed to be concentrating very hard on something just out of reach.

“Hmm… And how old are the two of you?”

Sam’s brows were furrowed with effort. Her face began to turn red and her eyes were narrowed in on an invisible target. Liz had the sneaking suspicion that she had stopped breathing.

“Twenty-one and twenty-two.”

“When Samantha stopped eating, did she tell you why?”

Liz wasn’t sure what surprised her more: the unexpected question or Sam’s bizarre response. As soon as the words escaped from his mouth, Sam yelped and jumped out of her seat.

“I- I’m sorry. Thought I saw a spider.” Slowly, she lowered back into her seat, staring blankly ahead as though afraid to make eye contact.

“Are you okay?” Concern for her friend took precedence over Liz’s astonishment.

“What? Oh yeah. It’s just . . . I hate spiders. You know that.” She chuckled feebly in an attempt to dismiss her outburst, but the damage had been done. Liz’s mind was instantly abuzz.

What is going on here? How does he know she’s stopped eating around me? Why did she freak out when he mentioned it?

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut, but Jonathan seemed perfectly at ease with this mysterious new development as he scribbled in his notepad. For several minutes the only sound was that of a pen scratching on paper and the excited laughter of nearby children.

Liz looked to Sam, seeking confirmation before grabbing her bag and preparing to leave. Finally.

“Elizabeth, please, before you go, I would like to offer an explanation to the both of you.”

Liz sighed, but lowered into her seat, knowing Sam would want to listen. He was just too pretty to walk away from.

“I’d noticed Samantha wasn’t eating, and it piqued my academic interests. I’m particularly interested in that sort of thing. I suppose you could say it’s my specialty. I travel the world studying the rituals and conduct behind food in various cultures. You may have noticed that I have some peculiar eating habits of my own.”

Liz was unable to disguise a snort at that statement.

He smiled knowingly. “I admit that it is a little silly, but I’m afraid it can’t be helped.” He turned to Sam. “I don’t necessarily like to discuss it though, and I would understand perfectly if you felt the same. I would judge by your reaction that you do. Please pardon my curiosity.”

“No, I don’t like to talk about it,” she said. “It’s sort of embarrassing, maybe some other time.”

Jonathan searched Liz’s face for a reaction. Now too tired to care, she twisted reassurance into her smile and dug out her headphones. Sam could chat as much as she liked, but Liz wasn’t going anywhere.

They had already missed the opening act when Jonathan finally stood to leave, having decided to forgo the concert after all.

“So Elizabeth, Samantha tells me you’re graduating this weekend,” he said as she gathered her things. Only Liz could lose something without ever leaving her seat. “Well, my brother and I were planning an evening out on Friday anyway, and I was hoping you would join us. Samantha has already expressed some interest and assured me you would love to come along.”

Sam’s eyes stated, in no uncertain terms, We will be going!

“Of course…sounds like fun.” Liz’s voice sounded flat but no one seemed to mind.

“Excellent! I’ll ring you later in the week then, shall I?”

Liz gave Jonathan a vast smile as he made for the exit, letting it falter once he’d turned his back. What a load of…

“Oh my God, Liz. I think he’s the one.”

“Fabulous.”

__________________________________________________________________

So... Give me your honest praise. lol JK  Whaddya' really think?


And now I'm thinking of moving this back to the plane. Sigh