I guess I just see it as rather old fashioned to spend your whole honeymoon having sex. I can understand if you’ve chosen to wait until marriage, but then, I don’t understand that either. What if you just aren’t good together? I guess if you’ve never been with anyone else, you assume that what you have is fabulous, even if it’s a three and not a nine on the Richter scale.
I want to find someone that I can be a nine with when I’m tired, and a twenty-two with when I’m rested. I understand that those kinds of passionate relationships are the stuff that movies and women’s books are made of, and everyone says that it fades with time, or burns out from the heat of the fire, but dammit, my parents still chase each other around and they’ve spent a lifetime together and raised eight kids. I want that.
Well, not the eight kids part, but the passion part, that’s the part I want.
Anyway, back to showers, I take such fast showers, my water consumption is probably no worse than the average female. The fact that himself takes three showers a day, might not only put our water bill through the ceiling, but could put a dent in the whole aquifer system.
I was thinking about the fact that it was probably my civic duty to jump in the shower with AJ, purely as a conservation measure, when he suddenly grabbed my hand and pulled me out the front door.
Strange.
No one has ever done that to me before. As far as I could tell, nothing was on fire. No intruders.
He pulled me down the corridor, past my neighbor’s big blue balls welcome mat, to the water retention pond in the back of my building. It’s really quite lovely with huge trees all around, birds making bird noises, and a lovely view for the apartments that face that direction. Of course, those residents get charged more than the ones facing the parking lot, so I have a parking lot facing apartment, but that seems somewhat unimportant when you’re being dragged along, and as I reminded myself, it might be a good time to actually pay attention to the here and now and not let my mind wander. I tend to do that whenever I’m under stress. Good stress. Bad stress. Doesn’t matter.
When we got to the edge of the water retention pond, I noticed three mid sized turtles swimming along. There was also a mom and dad duck and three little ducks, those weird ones with the little Mohawk on the top of their heads. The babies are really cute though.
In that second, when I was thinking about babies, that’s when AJ stopped short and somehow kind of flipped me gently around so that we were nose to nose, and other parts were introducing themselves as well.
AJ’s voice was low and right there in my ear, “I needed to touch you.”
“Touching is good.”
He let out an audible sigh. Guys don’t do that. Do they? I was thinking about that when it dawned on me that we were swaying to music that I couldn’t hear, but we were doing it really well. That we were out where the ducks could see us, and my neighbors were probably standing at their windows, thinking lewd and lascivious thoughts. I’m pretty sure my thoughts were a little steamier than theirs, after all, I had body parts invested in this, and those parts were pretty damn happy.
I thought it would be a really good idea to go back in the apartment and maybe take a quick shower. I might even take the time to shave all the stuff that needs shaving when you are about to do what I hoped we were about to do, but I wasn’t sure how to dance AJ back to the apartment without falling into the water retention pond.
So we danced in the almost moonlight, with baby ducks watching, and me trying to figure out just how I was going to get to second base.
It is second base, right?
I’m not a very sports type person.
It dawned on me that if this relationship was going to work, then I needed to be able to be myself. Myself would just blurt it out, so maybe I should just go ahead and blurt, and if AJ doesn’t like a woman that has moments of blurtation, then it wouldn’t work anyway, and then there would be no really good reason to rush to the next base anyway. Ok, other than the obvious reasons, which may be really good, but aren’t exactly the way I choose to live my life. But isn’t life about taking a chance now and then? Learning to do something differently? If there was ever a really good reason to do things differently, I was becoming intimately aware of it. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the man is very… well, I’ll leave it at that.
I was about to ask him if he would join me back in the apartment when he said, “I brought you out here because of your mother.”
There is nothing on this earth that can kill the kind of thoughts I was thinking, faster than bringing my mother into it. All I could say was, “My mother?”
“I wanted to be sure that when she asks you, probably tomorrow, who the guy in the back of the church was, that you could honestly say that I’d never touched you in the apartment, because I’m next to certain, that within 24 hours, your mom is going to know that I am sharing your home. It won’t take her long to figure out I’d rather share your life.”
I’m not sure what happened. I think maybe AJ wanted to put a bit of a dramatic flair on the comment and decided to twirl me around, very 1940s movie, which I love.
Can I just say that I was still wearing my heals from earlier in the day, and we were on the grass, and I’d had that thought about falling in the pond, just for a split second when he first started the whole dance thing, and really, life is a self-fulfilling prophecy, so it isn’t all that surprising.
The ducks made this weird sound; maybe because I screamed when I was stumbling backwards down the incline toward the water. I’m sure the ducks didn’t want their home invaded by some overheated redhead.
It’s useful to note that in Florida, there is always at least a 50/50 chance that if you enter water, and you can’t see the bottom, there’s an alligator in there with you, so concern is valid, not a drama queen kind of thing.
All these thoughts were running through my mind, not to mention the really good thoughts that we don’t need to discuss at this point, when all of the sudden, there was AJ, hands around my waist, saving me from myself.
Thank you God the incline wasn’t steep. We were almost back to the spot we’d enjoyed before I was overtaken by clumsiness, when my ankle started to scream at me. It hadn’t even really registered with me that I’d twisted it when AJ said, “What’s wrong. Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re hurt. Do we need to take you to the doctor? What hurts?”
“I’m fine. I think I may have twisted my ankle a little bit, but really, I’m fine.”
I was about to take up where we’d left off, when AJ scooped me up and started to carry me to the apartment.
Can you imagine?
Yeah!
I know!
We didn’t even make it to the dining room when he cussed under his breath. I looked down. My ankle wasn’t looking very good. It was already very very swollen and turning colors.
I muttered, “Oh, that’s not good.”
His eyebrows met in the middle and he clenched his jaw really tight, but he didn’t say a word.
He carried me to the couch, put me down gently, went straight to the freezer, put ice in a zipper bag, and brought it over. I hate that whole R.I.C.E. thing. It didn’t look like I was going to be asked for my opinion. AJ was in first aid mode. Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation. I hate that, but it was obvious that is what we were going to be doing for the foreseeable future.
AJ sat on the side of the couch holding the ice pack on my ankle while I tried valiantly not to scream. Ice on a new injury hurts.
I was starting to squirm, thinking of things that maybe we could do, to take my mind off my poor ankle, purely for medicinal purposes, when AJ just got up and disappeared.
So much for my knight in shining armor. He left me on the damn couch with a freakin’ broken ankle. For the love of Mike! Isn’t that just like every guy I’ve ever known? Comes on strong, then all of the sudden, when they’re expected to act like half of a couple, off they go.
Didn’t AJ say someth
ing about being a part of my life? Yeah, well, I guess that only counts when you’re out with baby ducks swimming around. When you’re here on the couch all broken up, ol’ AJ sings a different tune.
Good to know.
I did a quick mental inventory of all my favorite hexes, trying to decide which to invoke. I needed one that wouldn’t include something messy I’d have to clean, or something causing AJ to look less than stellar in linen pants. I’m not a girl to cut off my nose to spite my face, in spite of my face, how does that go? Anyway, why take away a very good view? As I was arguing with myself, about which incantation would be most appropriate, he reappeared with my really soft white blanket.
He tossed the blanket over me, and like something out of a Disney cartoon, it floated down and covered me just right.
We were back to the feeling I had when he was carrying me to the apartment. In my entire life no man has carried me like that. Ok, maybe Daddy when I was about 4, but since then, no one has scooped me up. Gotta say, I liked it. A lot.
Just as I was about to comment, the kettle whistled. Oh. My. God. The man put the kettle to boil when he’d made my ice pack. In moments, there was a cup of tea brewing on the coffee table. There was milk and sugar there for me to add, just as soon as the tea was strong enough to get up and walk away on it’s own. I used to drink nice light tea, but then Liam stayed with me for a little while, and his tea is so strong you can’t see through it.
Anyone worth their salt won’t try to make a cup of tea for a person that drinks 30 cups a day. It takes eons of practice to get the proportions just right.
How does he just know this stuff?
He slipped both my shoes off; you’d think I would have had the presence of mind to kick them off sooner. I arranged the blanket to keep my dignity intact while he lifted my injured ankle up and rested it on the back of the sofa.
I swooned.
So, sue me. A girl is allowed to swoon every now and again, even in these times of equal this and I-can-do-it-for-myself that.
AJ positioned himself in the corner of the sofa so that we could look at each other without straining our necks. We talked about nothing until my ankle was numb. He seemed to know when it hit critical mass, because just as it dawned on me that my ankle was so frozen it wasn’t killing me, AJ asked if I had any liquor in the house.
“Your plan is to liquor me up?” I smiled and kept to myself that it wasn’t really necessary. I was fully willing and completely sober.
I let out a little light hearted laugh in what can only be described as a thoroughly inviting and seductive tone. I can do this stuff if I concentrate; I’m not a total loser.
I’m guessing that I wasn’t quite as sexy as I thought, since he looked slightly pained and said, “A good stiff drink will help with the pain.”
I explained that I really don’t drink much. Never did really, but then my favorite Uncle was murdered by a drunk driver, and that put the lid on it for me. I never, not ever, have even one drink, when there is the slightest possibility I might have to drive in the next 12 hours.
He ran his hand from my ankle up toward my knee and didn’t even seem repulsed by the stubble. He smiled and said, “I promise to be your driver should you need a trip to the ER. I’m going to run to the liquor store and pick up the makings for the drink of your choice. What will it be?”
“I haven’t a clue. You really don’t need to do this.”
“What’s your favorite drink?”
“I’ve only had a couple different drinks in my whole life. I’ve had a Plantation Punch. That’s a dangerous drink. It tastes more like punch than gasoline, which is what most drinks taste like to me.”
“Plantation Punch it is.”
“No, there are too many ingredients. I think that drink is complicated. I’m not even sure what the punch drink is really called. How about a Screwdriver.”
“Princess, I want you to have what it is you want. If you want a Plantation Punch, I’ll be happy to figure out what’s in it, and make you one, or maybe even two.” He let his eyebrows dance across his forehead. Which made me laugh. Which knocked the ice bag off my ankle. Which showed just what a mess my poor banged up ankle was.
AJ inspected it closely.
I silently cursed the fact that I’d inherited my Dad’s hairy toe gene, and vowed to start getting regular pedicures, or at least, taking the time to paint my own toes, and wax those little suckers, something I do religiously when I’m involved with a guy, but I’ll admit I’d let slide of late.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the doctor?”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“Ok, but I think a drink will help you sleep. I’m just going to run down to the liquor store at Belcher and Bleaker. Need anything else while I’m out?”
“You really don’t need to do this.”
“I’ll be back in a few.”
With that he disappeared into his room materializing almost immediately, bare feet stuffed in loafers and wallet in hand. Keys jingling as he went.
I’m sure he didn’t get to his car before I was off the couch and hopping into my bedroom.
In the time it took him to buy orange juice and vodka, I’d taken a shower, shaved everything important, I didn’t wash my hair, but I did brush it out, fluff it up with some root spray, and freshen what little makeup I was wearing.
I didn’t want to look too obvious.
Now that I think about it, the fact that I was wearing a absolutely spectacular, modest, but still stunning nightgown when he came back, might have been a tad obvious, but you do what you can do.
I was back on the couch, arranged, with my foot up and my nightgown cascading in a shimmering pool of green skinner satin, when AJ walked in the door.
He has a lovely smile. “Wow. You do injured really well.”
I laughed. “Thanks. I had to find something to match my ankle.”
Instantly he was at the couch peeling off the new ice pack I’d just applied.”
“Shit Cara, I really think you need a doctor.”
“I swear to you it isn’t broken. I inspected it closely. I think what happened is that when I went bumbling down that little hill, I smacked the bone on the inside of my ankle, with the heel of my other shoe. I either nicked that bone, or maybe broke a little vein. There isn’t anything that a doctor could do, but tell me to keep ice on it. I’m doing that without waiting in the ER for hours and hours.”
“Do you promise me if it gets any worse you will let me know?”
“I promise.”
“Ok, I’ll make your drink then.”
He was back moments later with a good-sized Screwdriver. I took a sip, ready for the yucky taste, but it was actually pretty good. “Ok, what did you do? This doesn’t taste like a regular Screwdriver.”
“The guy at the liquor store said I should add a little bit of pineapple juice or some Sprite. I didn’t know how you would feel about the pineapple juice, but I saw you swipe some of your brother’s Sprite when they were here for chicken, so I added a splash. Is it really ok?”
“Actually, it’s really pretty good.” I was so flattered that he’d not only noticed what I’d stolen from a relative, but he’d actually remembered, and, put the knowledge to good use. I slurped the drink to show my appreciation.
“Good. You don’t have to drink the whole thing, I just thought it would help to relax you.”
“You’re too good to me.”
He said quietly, “You deserve to have someone spoil you.” He looked a little embarrassed. He said in a stronger voice, “I stopped at the Walgreen’s next to the liquor store and got a couple of small ice packs and ace bandages. I think we should be able to wrap up your ankle and keep it elevated and iced while you sleep tonight if we do it right.”
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