The Crush

DAY 1

Morning

I wake to incredibly hot, southern air. Sweat has glued my pajama top to my skin. My underwear is now damp. 'It's fucking hot', I think to myself. Good thing the electrician comes today. This is the price I chose to pay, though, moving into my new condo that was not finished being renovated. I absolutely could not stay in another lonesome and public hotel. Two months straight in a hotel is plenty enough for me and I most definitely could no longer stand being in...'I will not reminisce', I try to convince myself. Leaving Atlanta, leaving him, was the best thing to do. A woman can only be hurt so many times. A good woman can only be cheated on so many times. Hell, one time should have been one time too many, but being a "good woman" means staying and working through the hard times of a marriage. But being a "good woman" only got me cheated on, lied to, and hurt. What is the point? So now, here I am two months and one divorce later starting over hundreds of miles away in Savannah.

The early morning light shines beautiful and bright through my bare bedroom windows making it hard to remain angry. I must get up and get ready before the electrician arrives. One very cool shower later, I am dressed in khaki Capri's, a white tank top, and flip flops. I throw my long red hair into a ponytail and am now ready to start my day. I think I will go to the beach. Summers in Atlanta mean stay inside in comfortable air conditioning, so I am sure that I could use a good tan. A nice long day of sun, ocean air and Mai Tai's beach side with a good book sounds heavenly.

The refrigerator is still not working either so I grab a granola bar from the kitchen. I have not had much of an appetite lately anyway. Suddenly, the front door unlocks and cracks open which startles me. I ease out of the kitchen at the back of the condo and slowly head through the living room.

"Hello, who's there," I yell. At first only a blue tool box peeks into the doorway. "Are you the electrician," I ask then feel dumb because if it is not then it is a really bad thief casually walking in through my front door.

I hear shouts outside the door. "Yes, I got it Mr. Smith. See you at 3."

It is not the voice of some husky, macho, hairy overweight guy that I assume my electrician looks like. This voice is soft – the voice of a woman. The door creeks open completely and all I see at first are long golden dreadlocks. They frame a slim, long pretty face – the face of a woman. The light coming in from behind her seems to make her peanut butter toned skin glow. Almost heavenly. Her shiny, oval, brown eyes finally meet mine.

"Oh, hi." She seems startled by me also. "We didn't know anyone would be here." She steps inside and puts down the tool box and a black backpack with an Atlanta Falcons logo on it. 'Figures', I think to myself.

"Yeah...um...right. Yes, I am here," I murmur.

She has on black boots and loose fitting khaki pants. Her curvy figure is still noticeable, though. Her red polo shirt has the company's logo on it. It fits her snug and I can tell she is at least a C cup. But why am I even noticing that anyway?

"I mean, I am the owner. I just moved in yesterday." I explain.

She closes the door, walks towards me, left hand extended, and flashes a wide smile. "I am with Smith Heating and Air here to fix, well, everything." Sunlight is gone, but she still has this glow about her. I feel it radiating. I feel warm and vibrant inside. I shake her hand while unable to detach my stare from the sparkling brown jewels that are her eyes.

"Mr. Smith had an emergency so I am filling in. I am Amber. Nice to meet you..." she says, her words lingering in the air for a response.

"Sarah, sorry, my name is Sarah," I stumble out finally after a long, awkward, and silent delay.