Open My Eyes

Eleven: Dirty Secret Smirk

          Sam had to spit out her ice tea to keep from choking. She looked at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. She exclaimed, "Holy shit! You're kidding me!"

          My face burned from my recent confession. I shook my head slowly, stating, "Nope."

          She fell back in her chair, stunned. The ice tea splattered on the ground was forgotten as she questioned skeptically, "So he seriously smacked your ass?"

          I picked up my iced coffee, placing the lid to my lips as I answered, "Yep," popping on the 'p'. I was surprisingly calm, at least on the outside. On the inside, I was still freaking out and slightly wondering if I had imagined the whole thing.

          She shook her head incredulously. She remarked, "That man has guts, I'll tell you that."

           "Don't tell me you're endorsing this!" I exclaimed, trying to keep my voice level but failing at the end. My unruffled façade was beginning to crumble, so I worked on maintaining it, taking deep breaths and sipping slowly from my drink.

          "No, no, I'm not," she assured me hurriedly. "I'm just saying it's shocking he had the gall to do that. Wonder if he was trying to cop a feel with his super-senses. You think?"

          My face felt like it was on fire, and I slammed my coffee onto the table. There went my calm demeanor. I stood up from my chair, yelling, "No!"

          She held her hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, relax. I was teasing. I'm just curious why he would do that."

          "To prove a point?" I guessed, my voice strained with suppressed anger, as an eyebrow quirked on my face. Noting the stares from the other patrons, I smoothed my pants as if wiping away dirt and sat down casually in my seat. I didn't dare pick up my drink yet.

          She gave me a cynical look. "Proving he can find a woman's ass?"

          My lips pursed. "No, proving he can irritate me more and more every day. He's just proving to me he'll cross the line to annoy me. He thought continually dropping things wasn't enough, so he added this to the list."

          With a mischievous smile that didn't sit well with me, she commented, "He must really enjoy annoying you if he does it every day."

          "He likes my reactions," I declared with conviction.

          Sam shrugged, allowing, "He did tell you once he liked that you had some bite to you." She paused, watching me carefully. "I have to admit: you're different when it comes to him."

          I wasn't particularly surprised at this, but I asked anyway: "How so?"

          She took a drink before answering me. She explained, "Ever since you've met him, you've had crazy experience after crazy experience. I mean, I heard you cuss like a sailor for the first time in my entire time knowing you; you've gotten better at comebacks even if that means your patience has dwindled; and you haven't talked this much about a boy since Hank."

          My hands reached for my coffee cup and I gripped it tightly. "Is that really my fault though?" I pointed out. "He's pushed himself into my life, popping up all over. Something about him makes me act like a hot-headed thirteen year old. He irritates me so easily, and it kind of scares me."

          She studied me, eyebrows drawn over her deep brown eyes that were thickly outlined in black. "Could it be because you're unexpectedly attracted to him?"

          I looked at her in surprise. "It's true that he's attractive," I conceded, "but I don't see how that could lead me to act this way." I ventured down this line of thought with great caution.