by Mia Evans
I try to be quiet. I don't want him to turn around and see me. I always look messy after a shift. Even though it doesn't matter, I don't want him to see me like that.
When I am directly across the street from him, he pokes his head out the back. "Hey, Eileen," he says.
Well, he noticed.
"Hey, Will."
I could keep walking, but for some reason, I stop.
"How was the day?"
He turns off the speaker. Now, the only sounds are someone mowing their lawn and various birds chirping.
I shrug. "It was okay," I lie.
Will looks me up and down, and I feel the butterflies in my stomach flutter.
"What happened to your long sleeve?" he asks, gesturing to my new scrub top.
He noticed.
"It got dirty," I say.
"Do I wanna know?" He smirks.
This morning that smile made me happy, but now, it's the last thing I want to see.
"Probably not."
It comes out harsher than I meant it to, but it has the desired effect -- Will's smile disappears.
I start walking again, my beloved shower in my mind, when I hear him hurrying after me.
"Hey, wait up."
I don't stop.
"What's up?" I ask.
"I saw you checking out my dad the other night," he says, casually, much too casually.
This time I do stop. I whirl around to face Will, gravel skittering under my feet. I’m mortified.
"I was not checking out your dad. I was looking at something near the train tracks, and then I zoned out."
I'm glad I planned out that lie last night, though I'm unhappy I have to actually use it. Why couldn't he just leave me alone?
Will smirks at me. The way he looks at me makes me feel like he knows it's a lie.
"The railroad tracks are way down the street. My dad and I were right in front of your window. Right where you were."
"Stranger stuff has happened," I shrug, instantly inwardly cringing at my lame response.
Will's smirk has turned into a full-blown smile now. It infuriates me. I just want to go inside and shower.
Why is he so insistent on talking to me?
"Hmm, well, if you weren't checking out my dad, you must have been checking out Matilda."
I guffaw. Which I instantly regret. Why must I be so damn awkward?
"Who is Matilda?"
Will smiles again. How does his face not hurt from smiling so much?
"Matilda is my lovely old lady, over there," he says, gesturing towards his van.
I cannot help but roll my eyes. "You named your van Matilda?"
His smile falters, but it comes right back. "Well, actually, the guy who had her before me named her Matilda. But the name stuck. I think she looks like a Matilda, don't you?"
I look at the front of his van. The wheels are even rustier up close than I saw from my window. But other than that, the baby blue paint is flawless. For some reason, the color makes me happy to look at. I don't see pastel blue very much.
Through the large windshield, I can see the fairy lights strung around the inside perimeter. There are a copious amount of creepy looking small trolls with various shades of hair on the dashboard.
"What's with the trolls?"
Now that I've seen them, I'm unable to look at anything else. There must be at least ten lined along the windshield.
"Good luck."
Will says it simply like I should understand it.
"You really think creepy little weird colored plastic trolls are going to bring you good luck?"
He laughs. "How dare you talk about my troll babies like that?"
I can't help it; I laugh with him. It's so ridiculous. He's so ridiculous.
"How many of those do you have?"
"At least fifteen. Not all of them are on the dash, though. They're all throughout the van."
"Yea, and one night you're going to wake up and see all of them standing around you, ready to take you out."
He raises his eyes, and for a second, I feel embarrassed for playing along. I should have just kept my opinion on the trolls as stupid. He probably thinks I'm even creepier now.
"Hm, maybe you should start staying with me then, make sure that none of them attack me."
I almost choke on my saliva. I clear my throat awkwardly, trying to get rid of the burning. My eyes water and I want to turn and run away. That would be less humiliating than the fool I'm making of myself now. Even worse, the butterflies are back. I hate it.
"You alright there, Eileen?" Will asks, patting me on the back.
I cough even harder at the feel of his hand on my back. I can feel his warmth through my thin scrub top. Thankfully it's a cooler day out. If it weren't, he would surely feel a sweaty mess under his hand.
I want to pull away from his touch, but for some reason, my feet stay in place, letting him pat me as I try to clear my throat and act like a normal human being.
"I'm good. I'm good," I say, straightening up, my voice hoarse.
"See, if you had a troll on you, that probably wouldn't have happened," Will says, smiling down at me.
With how close he is, I can see the unique color of his eyes. They are green mixed with hazel, and they get browner towards the center. I have to remember it's not socially acceptable to stare like that, so I look away.
After Will put his hand on my back, I feel all too aware of his presence. How tall he is, how buff he is, how good he smells. Of course, the breeze is blowing that sexy, masculine smell right up my nose.
He is wearing a basic white top and gray cotton shorts that hit him mid-thigh. On his feet, he's wearing white sneakers that are full of scuffs and clearly much loved. He's also wearing the same baseball cap from this morning.
"I should probably go inside and shower," I say, stepping away from him.
It makes me uncomfortable how much I notice him after his touch and how close he is.
"Yea," he says, "you seem like you've had a rough day."
"What do you mean?"
"You just seem kind of… deflated from when I saw you this morning. Patients must have been difficult today," he murmurs.
"You don't even know," I sigh.
"I could know. Why don't you hang out with me when you're done with your shower?"
I quickly clear my throat again, this time careful not to choke on my own spit. Will reaches around like he's ready to pat on my back again, so I give him a thumbs-up, letting him know his assistance won't be needed this time. He probably thinks something is wrong with me and is just humoring me.
"I um, I have uh, homework that I need to get done," I lie, clenching my backpack straps.
He raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing me. "It's the summer."
"I'm in two classes right now. I wanted to spread out my gen eds, so I don't get overwhelmed in the fall, especially with work."
I can tell that he still doesn't believe me, but he doesn't push it. "You always have been very together, Eileen." He moves towards his van.
Very together? What does that even mean? I want to ask, but I've already made enough of a fool out of myself for one day, and I know if I were to keep this going, it would only happen again.
"I'll talk to you later?" I say though it comes out sounding more like a question.
Which it really shouldn't, because I definitely should be avoiding him after this interaction. This conversation isn't the worst I've ever done. I've definitely embarrassed myself much worse before with other people. However, still, there's no point in running up my score even more.
Will will probably be back on the road soon, and we clearly have nothing in common. So there's no point in spending time talking to him and making up scenarios that could never happen. And worst of all, I can't even make it through a conversation with him without making an ass out of myself.
"You definitely will. Have fun with that homework. If you want, you can watch me out the window as I work more on my van later. My dad might even be out at som
e point." He winks at me, and my face flames.
"I was not watching you work on your van. And I do not have a thing for your father," I assert. The first part doesn't sound as convincing as it should, though.
"Oh yes, the railroad tracks." His smile gets so wide that I don't get how his face doesn't stay stuck like that.
"They're quite interesting," I say, lamely.
I stomp towards my house. Any interaction with Will Keely is just going to end with embarrassment on my part.
"I'm sure they are," Will laughs.
Even though I try to resist it, my mind won't shut up about every single second of the interaction as I get closer to my house. Every moment plays back, agonizingly, and my cheeks feel warmer every second.
I fumble with my keys as I open the door.
Before I go inside, I take one last look back, my curiosity getting the best of me. When I turn, Will is there, leaned up against the side of his van. Looking right at me.
On the one hand, the butterflies like that. He's watching me. On the other hand, I've just confirmed I'm a creepy person with a staring problem. Now, I've been caught twice.
Will waves at me, the largest grin of the night (which is saying something) spreading over his face.
I fumble with my keys more intensely and fling myself inside my house, slamming the door shut behind me.
"I'm home!" I shout.
I kick my shoes off to the side, where they land perfectly on the shoe matt against the wall. I'll have to add that to my resume.
"Hello, dear!" my mom screams back.
It smells like cookies, which means that instead of obsessing over John Wayne, my mom has probably been obsessed with making cookies all afternoon. I like this obsession much better, and my ears appreciate it more too.
"How was your day?" she asks as I come into the kitchen.
I plop my bag onto a kitchen chair and drop myself into another one. Usually, I would go straight to my room, but the smell of cookies is comforting. Even though I made a complete ass out of myself, at least I'll be able to have a cookie.
"It was okay," I say, knowing she won't push it.
"That's good," she chirps.
She reaches into the oven and pulls out two trays of glowing chocolate chip cookies.
"What's all this baking for?" I ask.
"I wanted to do something nice for the office. You know Kim? My really good friend?"
I nod. Of course, I know Kim. My mom goes out with her every weekend. Kim has been in my life more than my father ever was. And because of that, I always find it funny that my mom has to ask if I know Kim.
"Well, she's officially off for maternity leave!" my mother exclaims. "Since she's such a big part of the office, I wanted to make cookies for everyone since I know we'll all miss her so much."
"That's really nice of you," I say, rubbing out my leg. I make a mental note to text Kim and congratulate her later. "I have to get in the shower, though. Long day."
"That sounds good, sweetheart," she says, her back already turned to me.
I get up from my chair, about to turn down the hallway, when she exclaims again.
"Oh, Eileen, did you see?"
"What?"
She has her hand on her hip, her signature gossip position. "That Will Keely is back again. Did you see his hideous van parked out front?"
Matilda.
I nod, not saying anything about my newfound knowledge of the van's name nor our recent conversation.
"I wonder if he's deciding to actually be an adult now and do something meaningful with his life. I'm surprised his dad didn't set him straight years ago. It's just all so ridiculous to me. If you were to ever do that, I would have to get you admitted to a looney bin. That boy must have lost his mind."
I say nothing about her judgments. Instead, I notice how animated she got talking about Will and his lifestyle. My mother has always been passionate about gossip.
And though I don't like to admit it, I agree with her—at least a little bit. One conversation doesn't change how stupid I think Will's lifestyle is. After years of my mother raising me to follow a particular path and do things the right way, seeing Will live like that causes a knee jerk reaction of disgust.
But Will isn't disgusting, one of the butterflies whispers.
"I just can't believe anyone would want to live like that. Traveling around in a stinky, cramped van. And doing what? What does he even do? I wonder if his dad sends him money. There's no way he could work a job living in that thing. Working a normal job would make too much sense for someone like him."
I nod with her — she clearly wants my agreement. And she's right — what does Will do?
"I'm just glad that you turned out okay. I know you guys went to school together, so you would think Will was raised right and that he would have followed a good path, but I guess you can never really know."
"No," I murmur, "I guess you can't. I'm going to get in the shower now, Mom."
"Alright, dear. When you're done, come out here and help me eat some of these cookies."
"Okay."
As I walk down the hall, I can hear her humming to herself as she opens and closes the oven door again.
In my bedroom, I shut my door and immediately start stripping the day off.
By now, the conversation I had with Will is less fresh in my mind. I shed off my feelings about that incident with him just like I do my dirty clothes. I shove the latter into my nearly overflowing hamper. Guess I have a date with the washer tonight.
Now, time to finally scrub off the day.
As I shower, I think through what I need to get done for the night. I am much more tired than yesterday, so I know I won't have time for writing tonight, which makes me sad. I know that the responsible thing to do would be to spend all of my free time studying for the exam due in a couple of weeks.
Even though I'm ahead of schedule, my mom always taught me that the responsible thing to do is always work ahead. Get things done way before they're due, and then you'll have more time to work even further ahead in other areas of your life.
Even though I know that's what I'm going to be doing after my shower, I let myself think of Kya and Felix and the next scenes I'm going to write for them when I can afford the time to do it.
Once out of the shower, I stick to the plan. I do all of the laundry in my hamper, eat way too many cookies, and study until I'mI'm yawning every couple of seconds.
Before I go to sleep, Violet calls me. We talk about random stuff, and I listen as she tells me the newest gossip from campus.
Even though I know she would be beyond thrilled to hear about my interactions with Will, I keep it to myself.
5
I wake up today the same way that I did yesterday: alarm clock blaring, no sun, and the overwhelming urge to throw my covers back over my head and ignore the world.
I do just what I did yesterday: throw my legs over the side of my bed, stretch, and stumble through my morning routine.
I pull on a fresh pair of teal scrubs and another long sleeve. Because of the incident yesterday, I don't think I'll ever wear short sleeves to work again. If my shirt hadn't saved me, I would have had poop all over my arms.
The lunch that I packed yesterday but never got time to eat is still in my pack, so I toss it and make a new one. I also snag a couple cookies from the tin. Hopefully, today I have time to eat.
While I am brushing my teeth, I can't help it when my mind drifts to Will.
I wonder if I will see him this morning. Maybe he'll be out for a run again.
I hate how excited I get thinking about it.
We would never work in a million lifetimes, so my childish excitement is stupid, and I really need to cut it out.
But I do magically find the time to apply some mascara. And instead of throwing my hair in a bun, I find the time to do two double dutch braids. I definitely went the extra mile because I have spare time, not because of Will or anything like that. Look good, feel good, right?
I pour fresh coffee into my thermos. Today, instead of using my regular french vanilla creamer, I use caramel. I guess I'm feeling extra snazzy today.
I slip on my comfy slides and grab my keys from the table, careful to be quiet, so I don't wake my mom. Once outside, I realize that a short sleeve would have been smarter — the air is thick with humidity.
Before I step off my porch, I look subtly — or at least what I hope is subtle — to the right where I saw Will running yesterday morning. Though I would never admit it to anyone else, I feel my mood droop when I see that he's not there. Although, that's quickly gone when I realize he could be watching from his van window. He could be watching me stand there like a fool waiting for him.
I don't even know why I'm waiting for him in the first place. It doesn't make any sense. I've been over that with myself countless times now. But I also haven't laughed like I did last night for a long time. I know it's silly, but a part of me craves that again.
After a couple minutes have passed, I come to terms with the fact that Will isn't out running today. Or if he is, not here. Maybe after our awkward conversation yesterday morning, he decided to run elsewhere, so he doesn't have to run into me.
As I start my walk to the hospital, I clench my hand tight around my thermos when I walk by Will's van to remind myself not to do something stupid, like look towards it.
With how unlucky my peeping tom-esque endeavors have been going lately if I looked, I bet Will's head would pop out of the window at the exact time I looked. And then I would look like an idiot. Again.
Once past my temptation, I dig around for my earbuds. Since I listened to music last night, I'm going to listen to a podcast this morning. That will keep my mind productive on my way to work.
As Malorie's — the host of the motivational and self-care podcast I love — soothing voice starts in my ears, I sip on my coffee and try to forget the boy that, for some stupid reason, I was hoping to see today.
The sun comes up as Malorie talks about self-esteem. Apparently, affirmations are something I should say every day to achieve the best confidence in my life.
I am a badass. I am a money maker. I am powerful. I am fearless. I am—
"Hey, Eileen, wait up!"
Even though my earbuds were all the way turned up, the gruff male voice is much louder. It startles me, and I jump, hot coffee spilling over my hand.
