It's Just a Little Crush

by Caroline Fardig

  “Oh, don’t be such a baby. Check out those lips,” Becca says, handing me a mirror.

  I stop my tirade long enough to examine myself. Wowza! My lips are huge—and pouty! “What the hell is that stuff?” I ask, amazed but still burning, though not quite to the degree I was before.

  “Lip plumper. What, do you live under a rock or something?” She shakes her head.

  “I told you I’m a natural girl.”

  “Well, wipe it off, then,” she retorts grumpily.

  “No!” I say quickly. “I…like it.”

  “I swear, Lizzie, sometimes you can be such a clueless redneck.”

  “Hey!” I protest.

  “I love you for it, dear. You’re not hard and cynical like me,” she says and gives me a squeeze. “Well, what do you think of the new you?”

  I stare at my reflection, but it’s not the usual me looking back. Becca is a miracle worker! My blonde hair is shiny and falling in cascading curls down my back, and my makeup has never been this good in my life. My skin is flawless, my lips are pouty (I need to get me some of that lip plumper!), and my eyes are bright and seem twice as big as they really are. My borrowed red blouse is sexy and sleeveless with a feminine ruffle around the plunging neckline.

  “Am I good or what?” boasts Becca. “It’s a shame to waste all this on a funeral. Which reminds me, who was that gorgeous man who was loving on you yesterday?”

  “That’s just Blake. We work together.”

  “You little liar! This is me you’re talking to. I know you. You went all mushy the second he touched you. I saw everything, including your little PDA in the parking lot as you were leaving.”

  I gasp. “You were spying on me?”

  “No, I was accepting a flower delivery at the side door. You guys were only twenty feet away.”

  “Hey! Did you happen to see anyone hanging around Blake’s car before then?”

  “No, not that I noticed. Why?”

  “His car got keyed while we were here yesterday.”

  Becca frowns. “Oh, sorry, Liz. I hate that it happened in my parking lot. So you have no idea who did it?”

  “Blake thinks it was Lee, after he accosted me and ran out of here. I don’t think he would have done it.”

  “Lee was pretty devastated when you guys broke up, but then again so were you.” Wow. Am I that transparent? “It’s nice to see you dating again.”

  “I’m not dating. Blake and I are just friends.”

  She smiles knowingly. “Sounds like someone is in denial. If it were me, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off that man candy. How do you manage?”

  “Well, it’s certainly not easy, but Blake needs a friend right now, even if he doesn’t always realize it.”

  “Does he have a say in the matter? From where I’m standing, you’ve made the decision for him.”

  “Point noted. Thanks for the makeover, Becca. Love you, girl.” I hug Becca and head back out for the funeral. I so do not want to do this.

  As I enter the viewing room, I see that people are still milling around a bit. Good. That means I’m not terribly late, so I should be able to snag a seat with Julia. Blake is standing near the front of the room, talking to Hank. Sarah has staked out her territory next to him, of course. He glances in my direction, and when sees me, he stops mid-sentence with his mouth open, his eyes following my every move. I try to hide my delight as I walk, flipping my hair and strutting just a little bit, across the back of the room to find Julia. How ironic. I think Blake just had his first case of Lizzie-vision.

  I find Julia in the next to last row and park myself next to her. She glances over at me and double takes. “How did you do all of…that?” she demands, gesturing around the general area of my upper body.

  “Becca did it. She has a stash of clothes and beauty products here that you wouldn’t believe.”

  “I think Blake must like what he sees. He can’t seem to take his eyes off you,” Julia says, observing Blake from across the room. “I don’t understand why you don’t just go with it. You like him. He likes you. Just admit it.”

  “Have you been talking to Becca?”

  “Wha—” Julia begins, but is interrupted by the pre-service music. Everyone begins to find their seats and quiet down for the funeral.

  Hannah’s funeral service is beautiful and moving. The pastor speaks of her bright, cheerful personality and her unfailing kindness to others. Surprisingly, the longer the service goes on, the better I feel about the whole situation. I’ve spent a lot of time dreading this funeral, but it’s turning out to be comforting and just what my heart needs. I hope it’s doing the same for Blake.

  The graveside service is for family only, so after the funeral is finished we all slowly shuffle outside to our vehicles. Blake catches my eye as he passes by me, and his face lights up. He mouths behind Sarah’s back, “I’ll call you.”

  Julia turns to me. “So, what do you feel like for dinner tonight? Want to get out of town?”

  “Absolutely.”

  ***

  After fifteen minutes of indecision between Greek and Italian, Julia and I finally agree on Japanese. We have a lot of talking to do, so we figure a tranquil sushi bar will be the perfect place. We order a variety of items, then sit back to relax.

  Julia begins, “I’m sorry you had such a rough day, Lizzie.”

  “Oh, it’s been that kind of week,” I sigh.

  Our food arrives, and the two of us have a good talk over our sushi. We discuss my relationship, or lack thereof, with Blake. I’m relieved that she doesn’t bring up the whole ‘I’m pushing him away’ thing. Instead, she dishes on all of the ups and downs of her first month of married life with Dillon.

  As we’re finishing, I get a text from Blake: I’m done. Are you free?

  I text back: How was your date?

  Blake replies: Shut up. Come see me.

  I text back: Be there in an hour.

  Julia pointedly clears her throat, and I pop my head up. She is giving me a knowing look.

  “What?” I demand.

  “Did you know how big you were grinning just then? He makes you happy.”

  “Who?” I play dumb. I thought I was going to get out of having to talk about my feelings.

  “Duh. Blake. You get that dreamy face every time you’re around him…or talking to him…or talking about him, or—”

  I interrupt, “So what? I’ve done that since day one. He’s just hot, that’s all.”

  “I don’t get your blatant denial on this one. Usually you’re not like this with a guy.”

  “This is different. Blake is different. He needs a friend right now.” If I keep saying that enough, I may actually start to believe it.

  “What about what you need, Lizzie? Sure, you’ve never let any guy get too terribly close, but you’ve changed since you broke it off with Lee. It’s like you won’t let yourself be vulnerable at all. Is that why you’re pushing Blake’s romantic advances away and insisting you be just friends?”

  Whoa. That was deep, even for Julia, who knows me inside and out. Am I really making sure Blake and I stick with friendship because I think anything more will hurt him—or am I worried about it hurting me? Have I been avoiding finding a real relationship by indulging in a schoolgirl crush on someone I thought was unattainable? And, now that he’s totally attainable, I’m not allowing it to happen. You know, I don’t always like what I find when I delve into my psyche.

  “Lizzie. Lizzie!” Julia is calling my name and snapping her fingers in my face, breaking me out of my stupor. “Back to reality, girlie! Time to go home. If I’m exhausted, you must be way past it. Ready?”

  I nod, still mulling over what I should do with the whole Blake situation. On one hand, we’ve been through so much this week I feel like I’ve known him forever. On the other hand, it’s really only been a week, and that’s not nearly enough time (in a normal week) to decide whether you want to be with someone or not. Julia and Becca both have said that if we
like each other, go for it. Blake is sending me mixed signals, kissing me or coming on to me one moment, then thanking me for being his friend the next. I’m so conflicted I can’t see straight. I’m glad Julia is driving us home.

  She drops me at home, and I make sure to feed the cat before I head out to Blake’s, just in case I don’t make it home again tonight. I finally decide that I’m not going to push Blake away tonight if he tries anything, but at the same time I’m not going to try to seduce him, either. Whatever happens happens. Still, I take the time to touch up my makeup, brush my teeth, re-perfume myself, and put on some pretty underwear. Like I said—just in case.

  When I arrive at Blake’s place, he greets me happily at the door. “I didn’t get to ask you earlier. What happened to you?” he says as he twirls me around and appraises me all over for the second, wait, third—no—fourth time today.

  “Becca happened to me. She called me a hot mess and said I needed some help,” I explain.

  “You are always beautiful, but I can’t say I mind the…uh…wow.”

  Uh-oh. I’m starting to feel all fluttery inside. I can’t read his eyes right now. He leads me through the house and out to the backyard. “I hope you don’t mind that I took your ‘let’s break stuff’ comment seriously.” He has lined up several dozen cans and bottles on a fence along the back edge of his backyard. He produces two rifles from a table he has set up in the yard. “I thought shooting stuff would make me feel much better.” His cell phone rings, and when he sees the caller ID, he grimaces.

  “What’s the matter?” I ask.

  Looking at me worriedly, he says, “Uh, I need to take care of this,” and walks out of earshot. I watch him pacing across the yard, and I can tell from the stiffness in his body that he is not enjoying the conversation. He mutters a curt “goodbye” and hangs up the phone.

  “Everything all right?” I ask. “It wasn’t about your grandfather, was it?”

  “No, nothing like that,” he says hurriedly. “Ready to shoot stuff?”

  Blake grabs a rifle, pumps it once, and fires at one of the bottles across the yard, shattering it into bits. “I feel much better already,” he says with a huge smile. “Your turn, Hart.”

  He hands me the rifle, then comes around behind me and puts both arms around me, his hands over mine. As much as I’m completely enjoying the proximity of his body, this girl needs no help with firearms. I say sweetly, “I got this,” shrug his arms away, pump the rifle, aim, and fire, shattering the bottle right next to the one Blake shot.

  “Wow!” Blake shouts, amazed. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

  “Junior high.” I drawl, “Around these parts, Hunter Safety is a mandatory class. I also used to go hunting with my dad.”

  Blake smiles and shakes his head. “You continue to amaze me.”

  “Thanks?” I’m not sure if he meant that in a good way.

  “Come on, let’s shoot some more stuff.”

  After we are about halfway through our targets, Blake stops shooting and draws his cell phone out of his pocket. He looks at his phone—again—in disgust, and walks away to take the call. I find it odd that he’s getting so many phone calls so late. He returns shaking his head.

  I ask, “Who keeps yanking your chain tonight? You seem kinda pissed.”

  He sighs deeply. “I didn’t want to tell you, but you’ll find out soon enough anyway.” That’s never a good thing to have someone say to you. “The first one was McCool.”

  “You gave McUncool your number?” I ask incredulously, wrinkling my nose.

  “Hell no. She must have gotten it somehow at work.”

  “So what did our dear friend Bethany want?”

  “To go out.”

  I snicker. “Sucks to be you.”

  “Yes, it does,” he says defensively. “The second call was Sarah. I think she thinks we’re…dating.” His shoulders slump pitifully.

  Laughter bubbles up inside me, and I push it down as hard as I possibly can. Blake is so embarrassed and upset, I hate to add to it, but this is too funny to me. Bethany has finally decided to openly pursue him, which is just ridiculous. Sarah, on the other hand, is gorgeous and successful, but she’s not exactly soft and cuddly. She’s one of those ball-busting career women who can’t find a balance between work and social life. Not that it’s a bad thing, because she’s great at her job, but no woman alive sets out with the goal of ending up a spinster.

  I shake my head. “Poor Blake. Every woman in town wants you.”

  “I don’t want them.”

  “Sarah’s hot. What’s the problem?” I ask innocently.

  “She’s abrasive, and she orders me around.”

  I feel another burst of laughter coming on, and as I imagine Sarah giving Blake orders at dinner, it comes out uncontrollably. I manage to snark, “Ooh, NO woman orders Blake Morgan around.”

  He is not amused, which only makes me laugh harder. I double over, tears streaming down my face. Hey, I’ve been repressed all week—I deserve a little laughter therapy. I’m still giggling as I wipe my eyes and ask, “Is it so wrong to think it’s funny that my stalker has a stalker? Or two?”

  “I’m not your stalker…well, not anymore. I’m your—” He’s interrupted by yet another phone call.

  I’m your—? I’m your what? Oh, come on! Is this how it’s going to be the entire night? I assume Blake was about to define our relationship, which I really would have liked to have heard. I have no clue about what exactly he thinks I am to him. If I knew how he regarded me, it would help me make up my mind about him, too.

  Blake puts his phone back in his pocket. “I really need to shoot something right now.” He fires at three of the cans in a row.

  When he pauses to reload his rifle, I walk over to him and say gently, “Sorry I laughed. What happened tonight? Wait. Put the gun down first, and then tell me.”

  He chuckles as he sets his rifle aside and turns to me. “This evening was, in short, a nightmare. Sarah made me sit with her through the funeral, which was pretty nice, by the way. It gave me some closure. But she kept touching me, which was awkward, to say the least.”

  I let a snicker escape at the mental image, trying to cover it up by clearing my throat. “Sorry, go on.”

  “She kept introducing me to everyone as her ‘friend,’ but she said it in that way that means ‘my secret lover’.”

  I deadpan, “‘Secret lovers, yeah, that’s what you are.’”

  Blake glares at me. “You’re not funny, you know.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Then she ropes me into taking her to dinner, which was excruciating. Halfway through, McCool shows up, sits down at a table across the room, and just stares at us. It was creepy. By the way, I think she was the one who keyed my car.”

  “Bethany? Why?”

  “She accosted me this afternoon about my little lie of Sarah giving her Jackson’s work. Evidently Sarah didn’t have my back on that one.”

  “Yeah, now that you mention it, Bethany was in a seriously foul mood today. She snapped at me a couple of times.”

  “I think she has it out for you, too.”

  “So do you think when I go home I’m going to find Bob boiling in a pot on the stove?”

  “Would you be serious, here? I don’t know how to get away from these two without creating havoc at the office. What do I do?” He gazes at me pleadingly.

  Sobering, I answer truthfully, “I don’t know. Bethany is completely delusional, so even if you tell her to get lost, she may not go away. Sarah has decided she wants you, and you know how she is when she wants something…”

  “I am so screwed,” he whines.

  “I think that’s their next move.”

  “Like I said—unfunny. I need to shoot some more stuff.”

  After Blake and I finish shooting all of the targets, he turns to me and asks, “What do you want to do now?”

  “I don’t know. Can anything top shooting stuff?”

  “Well, there is one thing�
�” he murmurs seductively, pulling me close to him.

  This is it. It’s happening. Do I or don’t I? I’ll only have a few more seconds to think clearly before I get caught up in Blake’s charms. Oh, screw it. Why not? Besides, it’s not like he’s going to hang around town forever. For all I know, once he gets his grandfather’s estate in order, he may be on the next plane back to Chicago. I may not have this opportunity again if I say no now. Blake is a big boy, and he can decide for himself whether he needs a friend or a lover right now. Okay, I’m going for it. I just hope I don’t get hurt…

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I tilt my head up at Blake, who is looking down at me tenderly and with no trace of the stress that I’ve been seeing on his face lately. He leans his face toward mine and brushes my lips with his. A tingle of excitement passes through me, and I feel my knees starting to get shaky. He pulls back and stares intently into my eyes, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of my head. He draws my face back to his and kisses me again, this time with urgency and a passion I haven’t felt from him before. I reach up to lightly touch his face, and he breaks away to gaze at me again. I don’t think I need him to tell me how he feels now. I can see it all over his face. But as he slowly pulls me toward him again, I see his face suddenly fall, contorted in anguish. He whispers, “No, I can’t do this to you. I just can’t,” and walks away from me.

  A debilitating chill washes over my entire body, and I feel as if I’m frozen to the spot. I close my eyes, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. My throat tightens up, and my head begins to throb. But then, just when I think I’m going to break down, I feel a tiny burning sensation deep inside my chest. It’s growing and getting stronger, and my tears seem to be staying put. It’s when my whole body starts trembling that I realize…I’m ANGRY! Every time Blake and I get close, someone or something interrupts us and ruins the moment. Then, every time, nothing gets resolved, and frankly, it’s driving me insane! Blake is going to tell me once and for all what’s going on between us, whether he likes it or not.