On the Run p. 11

She awoke the next morning still exhausted.  She hadn’t slept well at all, and she had overthought her life while overtired and was now overwhelmed with an array of emotions.  She was lonely, but she had no one to turn to.  She was bored, but she had no money to entertain herself.  She was hungry, but she had eaten the same cheap food for so long now that she would rather go hungry than attempt to swallow another bite of cheap hot dog or cardboard pizza.  She had feelings for a man for the first time in years, and she couldn’t allow herself to chase those feelings or the man behind them.  Her body was in overdrive, thinking about every ripple of muscle that carried her home, every kind word said while in conversation, the way the stubble on his jaw line felt when she rested her head on his shoulder, the flowers, his easy manner around her when she was at her lowest, and the list was endless.

Sitting at home, alone, all day, was not doing her any good.  Her body was as ready to explode as a warehouse of dry fireworks waiting for a spark.  Only she couldn’t set that spark herself, she needed someone else, Tucker Johnson in particular, to light that fire.  She would have to convince him of that fact.

By noon Sunday she couldn’t take the quiet isolation of her apartment any more.  She decided to go for it.  She wouldn’t get in involved, couldn’t get him involved in her tumultuous life, but she could thank him for all his help earlier in the week…

She dressed up a bit, putting on her best pair of skinny jeans, a flowy sleeveless blouse, and her favorite pair of heels.  She headed to the bathroom and added a bit of makeup, a curl of the iron, and she was ready to go.  No more injured fawn here.  She was a woman.  A woman with certain needs.

She hobbled to the grocery store, getting around much better than she had that Monday night when he carried her home.  She purchased a couple steaks, some potatoes, and a few things for a salad to go with it.  Her mouth was watering thinking about the delicacies she had in her hands, all that savory food she had denied herself for so long.  When she parked in her apartment lot, she considered her options: invite him to her place, or show up at his.

There was only one answer, so she crawled out of her car, grabbed the groceries, and headed down the block.

When she arrived at the little house on the corner, she immediately noticed that he was shirtless out in his driveway putting a shine on his motorcycle.  His jeans clung to his hips in all the right ways, and she noticed he had a few tattoos that were sometimes highlighted when his muscular arms worked, rubbing a shine into the metal on the bike.  It was breathtaking.  She caught herself staring, thankfully before he did, so she straightened up, turned towards him, and marched up the driveway.

So maybe the high heels weren’t the greatest of ideas she thought as she ascended the slight upward hill of the drive.  Her ankle was much better, and she could definitely still walk in them, but she recognized that the walk home later was not going to be as pleasant and dreaded it already.

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