Temporary Fix

CHAPTER THREE

RONNIE

Although I'm certain there was much more to the house to explore, we didn't drift off too far from the party. The party wasn't loud by any means, the music was at an rational volume, and you could still hear the chatter of the collective conversations. It was by no means a rager going on at the Vander's tonight. As Eden guided me to our destinations, the volumes of the party quieted down.

       Eden and I didn't speak on the way to wherever she was taking me, aside from me complimenting her home and her brief thank you, silence accompanied us.

      We entered a room that was clearly an office space. It was as big as my living room at my house back home. There was a fire place with a couple of loves seats out front and a bookshelf on the opposite side. The lighting was dim and it was slightly warmer in the office than the rest of the house. Eden stood by the door as I entered waiting to close it. She motioned for me to sit in the chair across from the one tucked into the desk.

I grabbed ahold of the arm of the chair to support me as I sat down. My back met with the chair just as my feet had lifted and could no longer touch the ground. I almost begun to swing my feet, but I opted against it. But, I couldn't help the smile that came to my face thinking about all the times people had teased me about my height.

"Didn't I see you down a glass of champagne earlier?" My head shot up at the question just to find Eden staring intently at me with her eyebrows raised.

I coughed in shock that she had caught me red handed. It clearly was a rhetorical question right? She knew what she had saw, but what if she wasn't sure? Should I lie? Should I explain?

      "This is a really nice office." I resorted to complimenting again.

      Eden looked around as if she was just viewing the room for the first time too. "It's my husbands, I designed it though." She said it proudly, but I noticed the slightest bit of sadness in her eyes as her eyes analyzed the room. I was just glad that she had allowed me to divert the conversation.

      I nodded, "You have fantastic taste." She smiled at me, but only briefly.

      The friendly smile was gone off of her face, and the only way to describe how she was looking was business. "I want to really know you." Her eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, her small hands enclosing around the edges of the desk. I felt so far away from the conversation, so I slid to the edge of the cushioned seat before placing one of my hands on top of the other on my lap.

      And here I was thinking that this was for a tax write off.

"Tell me about yourself."

Between numerous job interviews, pending friendships, and getting to know someone while dating, it was the thing I dreaded the most to hear. Tell you about me? Could you be more specific please? Did you want to know what time I usually woke up in the morning? That I have full on performances in the shower? That I hate wearing pants? I'll binge watch a television show before finishing homework that was due last week? Did you want to know what kept me up at night? What made me me? Or just recite everything to you that I already submitted of paper? Did you just want to know the good?

Of course she did. That's what everybody wanted to know—just the good.

Thousands of ideas of how to start shot out in my head. Do I lie about me excelling in my rigorous courseload, while also pursuing my career as a professional dancer. Would it impress her that I was pursuing multiple careers or would she think I was biting off more than I could chew?