Except I didn’t feel like it was all fine, cool, and snazzy.
Maybe Chuck was married. Or at the very least, maybe he had a girlfriend. A talented, charming guy like him surely couldn’t be on the market. And even if he was, why would he settle for a nobody like me? He was an international bestselling author. He was practically a household name, right up there with J. K. Rowling, Stephen King, and Dan freaking Brown. I was just some small-town girl who got lucky and attended college on a poetry scholarship. An amazing guy like Chuck deserved so much more than what I could ever offer. And besides, I was pretty sure Chuck was twice my age. The last thing I wanted on top of my crippling embarrassment were accusations that I was possibly a gold-digging piece of arm candy, not that I was much to look at in the first place.
I was in the kitchen next to the stove, diligently watching over the chicken breast I was cooking in a skillet over the burner. When I turned to grab the salt and pepper shaker off of the counter for seasoning, I happened to catch my reflection in the shiny silver of the fridge door. The image was a little distorted, but it was polished enough that I could get the point. I sighed, immediately disgruntled at the way my ass seemed to slip right into my thunder thighs and the way my calves melted right into my ankles. I wasn’t particularly a fan of the way my hair always seemed to curl to the left, and I definitely didn’t like how my boobs always got in the way of my arms. Shirt shopping was always a nightmare because I couldn’t find V-necks that didn’t completely expose my chest, but I couldn’t find a scoop-neck shirt that didn’t make my neck look distressingly short.
College stress hadn’t been kind to me. I liked to eat when I studied. It was just something mindless that I could do while I memorized different passages Faust and analyzed them to shreds. My best friend, Hannah, was the one who introduced me to the chicken breast diet –which was why I was currently hunched over a sparsely seasoned piece over the stovetop. I was supposedly going to fill up on the huge mountain of green beans I had steaming on the element over, and the small half-cup of rice was also supposed to make me feel full. Even though I didn’t believe in strict diets, Hannah claimed she’d lost ten pounds and swore by the process. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to at least try, and since I only had to buy three ingredients, my wallet wasn’t complaining, either.
Just as I took the chicken off the heat, three knocks sounded at my front door. I shuffled on over, curiosity moving me forward. I pressed my face up to the peephole, but frowned when I didn’t see anyone. I thought perhaps I’d misheard. Sometimes when people knocked on my neighbor’s door, it sounded like they were knocking on mine. I was about to turn and get back to finishing dinner when three more knocks came, quicker and louder this time. Opening the door quickly, I was surprised to find a little girl standing out in the hall.
The child had bright blonde hair that looked almost white under the harsh hallway lighting. The corners of her lips and the tip of her chin was covered in melted chocolate and powdered sugar. The little girl smiled wide, some of her baby teeth missing to reveal a toothy grin. She’d tucked her little hands into the pockets of her oversized purple sweater, the front of which was decorated with colorful cartoon bears in front of a glittery rainbow.
“Hello,” I greeted gently. “Are you lost? What are you doing here so late?”
“I live here,” she tittered mischievously, pointing down the hall.
“Does your mommy know you’re here?”
The little girl shook her head rapidly, too hopped up on sugar to stop. I thought for sure she’d make herself sick if she didn’t calm down, so I placed my hand gingerly on her head. I looked up and down the length of the hall for any trace of parental supervision. It was incredibly late, and I really didn’t like the idea of her wandering around all by herself. I lived in a relatively safe part of the neighborhood, but you never knew what kind of crazy things could happen under the cloak of night.
“What’s your name, sweetie?” I asked. “You shouldn’t be out here all by yourself.”
“Daddy and I are playing hide and seek,” she explained.
“Is that why you’re out in the hall?”
“He’s losing.”
I stepped out of my apartment and closed the door behind me, reaching down to take her little hand in mine. I almost laughed at her outward competitiveness. “You know what? How about we go find your daddy instead? Prove to him you’re the real hide and seek champion.”
The girl squealed loudly, “Okay!”
We ventured down the narrow hallway together, rounding the corner just in time to see a man burst through his apartment door in a panic. “Clarissa? Clarissa, come back, baby.”
I froze in an instant, recognizing him by voice alone. “Chuck?”
He turned, eyes widening as the color drained from his cheeks. In a daze, he looked from me to the little girl at my side. Chuck quickly knelt down and threw his arms open, catching the little girl in a tight hug. “Don’t scare me like that, baby,” he sighed in relief, kissing his daughter’s cheeks. “You’re not allowed to leave the apartment. That’s breaking the rules. What if someone had taken you?”
“You know all my hiding spots inside,” Clarissa whined. “And I made a new friend who can play with us. It’s no fun with two people.”
Chuck rose, lifting Clarissa in his arms. He smiled at me, a mixture of confused amusement flashing across his eyes. “What are you doing here?” he asked, a little breathless.
“I live here,” I explained, anxiety making my words thin and shaky. “This one’s yours, I take it?”
“Yes,” he laughed nervously. “Lara, this is Clarissa. Say hi, baby.”
Clarissa waved one of her pudgy hands. “Can you play hide and seek with us? Mommy used to play with us, but she’s not here right now.”
Chuck’s expression stiffened as he cast his eyes down to the floor, something akin to frustration and sadness flashing across his brow before disappearing altogether. He kissed Clarissa’s cheek tenderly and said, “Not tonight, baby. I’m sure Lara’s very busy.”
“How do you know Daddy?” she asked me innocently.
I didn’t really know how to answer, or how honest I should have been. Lying to a kid just didn’t sit right with me, but I also didn’t want her to know that I shamelessly flirted with her father, made googly eyes at him all throughout the workshop, attempted to invite him out for drinks, and ultimately failed to do so.
“We work together,
baby,” Chuck said quickly. “You remember that writing class I’m teaching? Lara works there, too.”
“Are you a writer like Mommy and Daddy?”