Page 28 of Stroked Long
His brow creases, a common look I get from him. If only it was his smile instead. “No, but class is starting in five minutes and if you’re not going to participate, then you’re going to have to get up.”
Well, if this isn’t embarrassing, I don’t know what is.Embarrassment. My theme for today.
Time to peel your flaps off the pool deck, Ruby.
“Oh, I was unaware of the next class.” Wanting to be as graceful as possible while I get up and refraining from any unwanted skin making an appearance, I roll over on my stomach, get on all fours and then lift myself up. When I stand tall in front of Bodi, I throw my hands up in the air like an Olympic gymnast sticking their landing and say, “Nailed it!”
Hoping for a smile, I’m not fortunate enough to be rewarded so kindly, instead, his brow is still creased as his eyes study mine.
Shaking it off, I pick up my towel and wrap it around my waist to cover up. I’m entirely too self-conscious at the moment to be standing in front of Bodi in a two-piece. Yes, I’m proud of my body and have nothing to be ashamed of, but right now, I can’t stand to be brave while being so exposed. I need some kind of armor to throw up against his devastating good looks.
“Why did you come today?”
His question catches me off guard. Not because of its content, but because he’s actually interested in initiating some form of conversation.
“Because I wanted to learn more about the sport for the foundation. Lauren told you that earlier.”
His eyes don’t let up; they’re brutal in their gaze, like two icy stones trying to crack my cheerful façade. Little does he know, it’s going to take a hell of a lot more to make me crack. He might put on a strong front, but he will be much easier to crack than me.
“You should have just asked for a private session instead of coming today. You distracted everyone from the lesson.” His voice is gruff, almost agitated, an inflection from him I wasn’t expecting.
Did I distract everyone, or did I distract him?
Caught off guard, I try to gather my words. “Um, well, if you’d actually answered your phone when I called, maybe I wouldn’t have had to come to class today.” I cross my hands over my chest and stand my ground. Not the route I wanted to take, but I’m not about to be lectured when he’s the one who could have avoided me coming today. Put in perspective, it was not the kind of distraction he’s making it out to be. I took up the last five minutes of class.
Grabbing the back of his neck, he looks down at the ground and mutters, “I’ve been busy with training.”
“Busy with training? Or so embarrassed you took out a rack of curtains in front of me at Target you refuse to talk to me now?”
He doesn’t meet my eyes; he doesn’t even answer me. Slowly, I watch him start to retreat from our conversation. His shoulders slightly slump, his head aims toward the ground, and his hands withdraw into his pockets. If you were observing our conversation from a distance, his dodging of the question wouldn’t be evident, but from up close, and having spent time with him, my question struck a nerve. I’ve come to understand his social cues when he’s uncomfortable.
But how do I react?
A part of me wants to apologize, to show him I didn’t mean what I said. I’m that person who wants to please everyone. But the other part of me, the part who talked to Lauren about some of Bodi’s personal quirks?Thatperson wants to stand my ground, to help him grow, to not always coddle him.
It’s time to test the waters.
“You know what? I don’t think this is going to work. I don’t think I can help with the foundation.” The minute the words exit my mouth, I start to sweat and rethink my approach. Do I want to stop tiptoeing around our work together? Yes. But I also don’t want to seem like a bitch. I’m about to take back what I said when Bodi’s head pops up and his eyes meet mine, deep concern reflected in them.
“What? Are you going to quit?”
Oh God, the look on his face is crushing. Big mistake. Huge!Way to go, Ruby.
“You can’t,” he adds, once again looking down.
I can’t help myself, I ask, “Why not? It doesn’t seem like we have a very good working relationship. I tried calling you all week to move forward with our planning and didn’t hear a word from you. If you don’t like me or don’t trust me, just tell me, Bodi. I can handle anything you have to say. I’m a big girl.”
“Shit,” he mutters to himself, turning away from me. He’sveryuncomfortable. “Can we have this conversation somewhere else?”
Scanning down at my towel-covered body, I ask, “Can I get changed quickly?”
“Meet me by my truck in ten.” He doesn’t wait for my answer.
Will I ever get used to his abruptness?
It takes me no more than six minutes to sprint to the locker room, pee, change, and check my damp hair in the mirror. Yeah, I threw that wet mess up into a tight bun. With my bag tucked under my arm, I head out to the parking lot to see Bodi sitting on the hood of his truck, forearms resting on his legs, his hands clasped together.
Light flutters take place in my stomach.
