Attempting elizabeth, p.11
Attempting Elizabeth, page 11
“I thought you looked great,” Rick said eagerly.
I grimaced. “Thanks for the compliment, untrue as it may be.”
“No, really, you have great legs.” Rick blurted out, then a dull red infused his cheeks. I sincerely hope that he’d meant to only think that and not say it out loud. I resisted the urge to look down at my shorts-clad legs, or to turn to see if Mark was looking at them. “Um, you don’t have a drink, do you want a Coke? I can go get you one,” Rick added hastily.
“That’d be great,” I said sincerely.
“Be right back.” Rick bounded across the room in the direction of the kitchen and after a moment, I breathed an audible sigh of relief.
“He’s not a bad bloke.” Mark broke the silence.
“Rick’s a nice guy. But then, he isn’t making awkward comments about your legs.”
Mark laughed again. “True. I could see how that would change one’s perspective.”
I smiled back and looked up to where Charlie and another guy I didn’t know were engrossed in debate in front of the DVD player. “What movie are you guys watching?”
“Last I heard it was the latest Die Hard, though I think Derek was lobbying for Tron: Legacy.”
I rolled my eyes. “I hope Charlie wins. I love Die Hard.”
“Really? Not a lot of girls do.”
I gave him a mock glare. “I am not a lot of girls. I adore McClane. You know, ‘on a good day he’s a great cop, on a bad day—’”
“‘He’s the best there is.’” Mark finished for me.
“Damn straight.” I grinned. I was doing it! I was having a normal, almost flirty conversation with Mark Barnes.
“Here’s your Coke, Kelsey.”
I resisted the urge to yell at Rick to go away. “Thanks,” I said instead as I accepted the cold can.
A silence settled over the three of us.
“Do you have a movie preference?” Mark asked Rick over my head. “Kelsey was just telling me she prefers Die Hard.”
“Oh, that’s awesome. I love the Die Hard movies.” Rick leaned closer to me. I surreptitiously scooted closer to Mark and answered Rick with a nod. I didn’t want to encourage him.
The great movie debate was finally decided and Tori flicked off the overhead lights. I kept hoping that Rick would move away from. Like, sit on the floor or something, but he somehow kept getting closer and closer to me. I’d scooted so far across the couch that I was nearly touching Mark by the time the opening credits scrolled on. I’m not sure what was making me more edgy, Rick, or my proximity to Mark. Okay, that’s a lie. It was totally Mark. He smelled amazing. His profile was ridiculous: strong jaw and nose. Though now that I was this close, I could see a small bump near the bridge of his nose, like maybe it had been broken at one point. Somehow it made him seem even sexier. I turned back to the screen and tried not think about draping myself all over him à la Ashley.
I shouldn’t have thought about Ashley. The image of her with her red claws digging into Mark's arm popped into my mind and refused to leave. Tori had said that he wasn’t seeing her, but what did Tori know?
Rick moved even closer to me. He was pretty much off the couch arm now and completely onto the couch. He was also basically pressed up against my right side. But I was frozen.
“You’ve still got a few inches,” Mark said in a low voice. I swallowed and glanced over at him. He nodded to the small space between us and then looked significantly past me at Rick.
If I moved I’d be pressed up against him. The thought had appeal, but I couldn’t get the image of Ashley caressing his arm out of my head. “Sorry, I’m not like Ashley.” The snide comment was out before I could call it back. I saw his eyes widen in surprise. I should have just apologized. I should have tried to make it into a joke. Okay, that probably wouldn’t have worked. But I should have done something. Instead I just sat silently as he shrugged and turned back to the movie.
I sat through another fifteen minutes of the movie, Rick breathing down my neck on one side, and Mark completely ignoring me on the other. Then I quietly got up, dumped my pizza in the kitchen trash and snuck off to my room and back to my books.
~
I stood uncertainly outside the large double-doored entrance to McKinney's pub. I was still not sure how I'd let myself be talked into going on a blind date. But Tori had been persistent. Really, when wasn't she persistent? I'd given in this time because I had been hoping it would stop her from worrying about me. She could obviously tell I wasn't over my "little Pride and Prejudice fixation" in spite of my best efforts to act normal around her.
So here I was, about to go on my first date since Jerkface Jordan. I closed my eyes for a moment in a silent prayer that the evening would not be a complete disaster and reached for the handle of the door.
"Here, let me," a deep voice said from beside me. A deep, sexily accented voice that I probably would have known anywhere. I snapped my eyes open. There was a large hand on the door handle, pulling it open. A large hand that was attached to a very muscular, and familiar, arm. Oh no, no, no, no. I glanced up in shock.
Mark.
He looked amazing. Really, really amazing. Like slacks and a button up shirt that fit way too well to be from a department store, amazing. He could not possibly be getting those clothes on a teacher's salary could he? He must be so much better with money management than I was.
"Kelsey?" Mark looked down at me in surprise. He was holding the door open, but neither of us was moving. I was frozen with shock and a dawning feeling of dread. "I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you."
That was lowering. I briefly rallied, thinking it was probably because I usually looked like something the cat dragged in around Mark, but I'd made an effort tonight. He just didn't recognize me ‘cause I was looking totally hot. Then I remembered he'd seen me in my mini skirt/boots combo. Tonight's jeans and slightly off one shoulder sweater did not begin to measure up.
"Oh," I managed. What witty repartee, Kelsey. You're going to earn a conversational award with that comeback. "I...uh..." And that's when it hit me. I was here for a blind date. Set up by Tori. My friend. My soon-to-be-former friend.
Mark took in my face—eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open. I'm sure I looked like a fish gasping for air. I could tell the moment it hit him too. His eyes narrowed and something…odd... flashed in their dark brown depths. To his credit he didn't turn around and run, screaming, back to the parking lot. "I take it you're my date for the evening?" He even managed a smile.
"I'm guessing so." I was proud of how casual my reply sounded. Until I realized we were both still standing in the doorway of McKinney's, Mark still holding the door open for me. "Sorry," I muttered and walked into the pub. He followed, letting the door close behind us. The sound of it shutting seemed somehow final to me and I turned quickly toward him.
"Look," I said, “you don't have to have dinner with me. You were obviously brought here under false pretenses." I actually shudder to think what Charlie had told him about the girl he was setting him up with. I could only hope that the terms "desperate" and "recently cheated on" had not been used. Whatever it was Charlie had said, it obviously hadn't been “Oh, and by the way, it's Tori's roommate, Kelsey.”
"If you want to just call it a night, I'm totally okay with that, I mean, don't feel like it'd be hurting my feelings or anything." I was rambling. Stop talking, Kelsey.
Mark was still looking at me with that sort of half smile. "Kelsey, it's just dinner. I don't have a problem with it if you don't." He raised an eyebrow at me. I took it as a challenge. I'm not sure why. Maybe he was just trying to get me to bow out so he didn't have to be the one to do it. More likely, I was reading way too much into everything and he was just being a nice guy. I'm not sure why the idea of Mark having dinner with me just because he was a nice guy bothered me so much. But it did.
"Sure, let's have dinner," I heard myself saying.
As I slid into the booth across from Mark I was already regretting my decision. I don't know what it was about him, but I just had this sense that whenever I was near him I would end making myself look like a total idiot. I folded my hands on my lap under the table. I was committed to not knocking any drinks on myself tonight.
After we gave our orders to the waitress, silence descended on our table.
"So, uh, how do you like teaching?" I finally asked.
Mark's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "Love it.”
“Did always want to be a teacher? You don’t really seem the type.” I hoped that didn't come out as condescending as I thought it did.
“More the dumb jock type?”
Oh man, it had come out that condescending.
"I'm sorry, it was more a commentary on my high school teachers than on you.” There was a bit of an awkward pause, after which I added “And I suppose my high school teachers are now your colleagues, so I should probably just stop talking.”
Mark shrugged, letting me off the hook. “I did sort of fall into it in school. I just ended up loving history. A professor of mine suggested I pursue a teaching degree. I was just as surprised as anyone that I ended up enjoying it so much.”
“I think it’s awesome. I wish more teachers really loved what they do.”
“Yeah, I agree. If someone decides to teach just because they can't figure out what to do with their degree, then they're probably the last people that should be in front of a classroom."
I fought the blush that was trying to make its way onto my face. I wasn't going to admit to him that I'd thought about teaching for that very reason. But the ever practical Kelsey had gone for earning more useless degrees instead. Not that I had any plans for what I was going to do with my MA.
“So have you always wanted to get your Masters in Literature?” he asked.
Why did he have to ask that? Could he hear my thoughts somehow? Was I usually this paranoid?
“I’ve always loved literature,” I hedged. “The written word is powerful. Stories are powerful. They tell us about ourselves, our society, but they also have the ability to take us away from ourselves...to immerse us in other worlds.” I realized I was leaning forward earnestly. Way, way too earnestly. And gesturing with my hands like someone proselytizing on a street corner. I sat back and folded my hands back into my lap.
That odd light was back in Mark's eye. “That’s one of the things I love about history.” he said. The waitress appeared again and slid our plates of food onto the table. “Thanks.” He smiled up at her. A predatory look crossed her face. I could tell she’d weighed and measured me and decided I wasn’t a real threat.
“No problem,” she purred. I raised my eyebrows. Threat or not, I was sitting right in front of her. Did women just always throw themselves at him this way? I’d seen it that night at the party and again with Ashley. Mark didn’t seem to be in any need of help in the dating department. I had no idea what Charlie had told him to get him to go on this blind date.
“History really is just a series of stories,” Mark continued turning back to me. He hadn’t been rude at all to the waitress: in fact, I doubted he’d even noticed her come on. I resisted the urge to shoot a triumphant glance up at her as she stood, slack-jawed, at our table for a brief moment before sidling away. “Stories of heroes and cowards, winners and losers, great men and women. What makes it interesting, what makes it powerful, isn’t the recitation of names and dates, but their stories.”
I blinked at him. I’d never once thought of history that way. I mean, the whole real people and their lives thing, yeah, but never with the kind of passion that was currently pouring out of Mark. I have to admit that amount of intensity coming out of that attractive of a guy was...extremely hot.
“Your students are lucky,” I said as I picked up my fork and dug into my shepherd’s pie. “I wish I could be that passionate about history, but real people don’t interest me as much as fictional characters do.” As soon as I said it I felt like kicking myself. Even though it was true, it sounded creepy. And rude.
“But I bet you know a lot about each of your favorite authors. How their stories fit into the pieces of history around them.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “I guess so. Although the characters in stories are almost stronger than their authors a lot of the time.”
Mark grinned at me. The single dimple on the right side of that grin slayed me. “Yeah? So who’s your favorite fictional character then? Han Solo? John McClane? Or maybe your Mr. Darcy?”
“Darcy.” I blurted out without thinking and then blushed bright red. There’d been my chance to pretend to be normal. Swing and a miss. “Well, actually Elizabeth Bennet,” I amended. “If I could be anyone from a book, it would be her.” Why was I still talking?
“Huh, I’ve never given much thought to what fictional character I’d like to be.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Can’t think of anyone. I mean, it might be fun for a day to be someone else. But that’s what your Halloween is for, right?”
I took a huge bite of shepherd’s pie in a last ditch effort to stop myself from blurting out that I actually had managed to be someone else and for much longer than a day.
“You don’t have Halloween in Australia?” I asked once the shepherd’s pie had burned its way down my throat.
“Not really, no. There are always a few kids that dress up, but nothing like here. Did you know there’s a year round Halloween Warehouse off the 5?”
“The one in Buena Park? Yeah, it’s awesome, I went there last year to get my Leia costume for the convention—” I broke off in embarrassment. That was way too much information for a blind date. What was with me and my big mouth around Mark? He could ask me for my social security and pin numbers and I’d probably hand them right on over.
Mark laughed. “Well, there you go. Not just for Halloween. There are plenty of days that you get to be someone else.”
“Not enough,” I thought. Mark looked surprised and I realized I hadn’t just thought it, I had actually said it. I winced. I could see whatever glimmer of interest Mark might have had in me fade right before my eyes.
I should have laughed it off, made a joke of it like “see this is why I need to take turns being other people, ‘cause I say crazy stuff without thinking about it.” But I didn’t. I just retreated into myself. Apparently this was my go-to response around Mark. I could never get a firm grip on myself or the situation when I was around him. Which is why if Tori had told me who I was meeting for this blind date I would have just said thanks, but no thanks.
Our conversation got more stilted. I wasn’t doing much to help it along, honestly. He asked me how my food was, and I said it was good. I think I asked him if his burger was good—they have really great burgers at McKinney’s—but I don’t remember. Around Mark I felt like I was Alice falling down the rabbit hole, but instead of ending up in Wonderland I kept finding myself in the Land of Uncomfortable Social Situations. Awkwarder and awkwarder.
He paid for dinner. I felt bad because I’d been a horrible date. I felt bad because I’d really been starting to like Mark. And then I’d totally blown it and instead of trying to salvage it, I’d blown it more.
I was starting to think that I really was destined to just always appear at my worst in front of him.
“Thanks for dinner.” I finally managed to break our silent walk out toward the parking lot. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better blind date.”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
The guy really was too nice. What was wrong with me? Here was this really amazingly smart, interesting, handsome, and genuinely nice guy that I was totally interested in. Was I going to let my own insecurities screw it up for me?
I took a deep breath. “Look, Mark. I like you. I know I come off as a total ditz sometimes, but I’m not really…well, I don’t think I really am, lately it’s been kind of hard to tell. Every time I’m around you I do and say really stupid things and I have no idea why.”
He opened his mouth like he was going to say something in response, but for some reason words kept pouring out of me. “I don’t know what Tori and Charlie were thinking. Someone like you, obviously, wouldn’t ever go out with someone like me. It’s okay, I get it—”
“Kelsey,” Mark finally got a word in edgewise. “You’re right, I probably wouldn’t have asked you out.”
“Oh. Well then, have a nice night.” I attempted to gather what was left of my dignity—honestly there wasn’t much—and turned toward my car.
“Not because I’m not interested in you,” he said quickly, “You’re smart and obviously attractive.”
I stopped and turned back around. Obviously might be overstating it, but that didn’t sound totally unpromising.
“But I wouldn’t have asked you out because you are obviously still a bit unbalanced—”
“You think I’m unbalanced?” I interrupted him. “I’m not unbalanced! I mean, I might be a little kooky sometimes…is this about the Star Wars stuff?”
“No,” Mark ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m not saying you're actually unbalanced, I’m saying you’re still off-kilter from your breakup. Even if Charlie hadn’t told me you’d recently broken up with someone after you pissed off after the hike, I would have guessed it.”
“Pissed? Yeah, I was pissed!” I bit out.
“What? You were pissed after one drink?” he asked. “You don’t have to make excuses—“
“I’m not making excuses! What are you talking about? Sorry if I didn’t react well to seeing Ashley for the first time since she attempted to stick her tongue all the way down my ex’s throat.”
Mark stared at me for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter.
“What?” I demanded defensively.
“I think we are speaking at cross purposes,” he said. “I meant pissed off as in left quickly. I was forgetting to translate into Yank. You can react however you want to seeing anybody. I’m more talking about how you seem to run hot and cold, one minute you’re funny and clever and the next minute you’re silent and withdrawn. I’m honestly just not sure how to read you.”
