"I'm not sure," I admitted, rising from the sofa so I could calm my nerves with a mind-numbing amount of ice cream. "He said he'd take care of it when I pointed out Woodfalls isn't really known for their restaurant choices," I added, grabbing two bowls from the cabinet.
"Hey, that's not true. Now that they finally finished the McDonald's by the high school, we're completely chic," she mocked.
"Right you are. There's absolutely nothing wrong with gazing into each other's eyes over a cheeseburger and fries."
"Honey, I'm sure he won't be gazing in your eyes," she teased, looking at my chest.
"Stop being a perv. Besides, my boobs are nowhere near as big as yours," I answered, taking a big bite of ice cream so I wouldn't have to say anything else. A moment later, I yelped in pain as the ice cream hit my head in the worst case of brain freeze ever.
"Sheesh, dip, didn't anyone ever teach you to take smaller bites?" Tressa asked, handing over her glass of water. "I feel like I'm babysitting Mackenzie and Matthew," she teased, referring to her twin two-year-old niece and nephew.
I would have glared at her, but my head wasn't quite over the stabbing sensation I was currently suffering from. After several moments, I was finally able to resume eating my ice cream in smaller increments that Tressa took it upon herself to remind me to take. We spent the rest of the afternoon laughing our way through the comedies she had brought over. I pushed thoughts of Nathan to the far recesses of my brain, but every once in a while they would pop in just to frazzle me throughout the afternoon. By the time Tressa gathered her stuff to leave, I gave up all pretenses of normalcy.
"You'll be fine," she said, giving me a hard hug in typical Tressa fashion.
"I'm not worried," I blatantly lied through a fake smile.
"Right. Your face is always a delicate shade of green," she said, laughing. "You'll be fine," she repeated. "Just enjoy the ride," she added, wagging her eyebrows at me suggestively. "And I mean that in every sense of the word."
"You're not helping," I griped, shooing her out the front door.
"I expect tons of text messages and a call first thing in the morning," she yelled through my front door as I sagged against it. I was a mess. I seriously needed to get my shit together before Nathan saw through my adolescent hang-ups.
The next hour passed in a frenzied whirlwind of activity as I exhibited behaviors of someone who didn't have their shit together at all. I had decided to keep my attire casual and wear the cable-knit sweater and jeans I already had on. Halfway through brushing my hair, I had a sudden panic attack that my legs weren't freshly shaved. Dropping my jeans to my ankles, I rubbed my hand down my legs, grimacing at the short stubble that covered them. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. Six forty-five, shit, maybe I had enough time to quickly run a razor over them.
With my jeans still around my ankles, I hobbled toward the bathroom, which wasn't the best idea with my brain so frazzled. I took a face-first header into the wooden floors of my room that knocked the breath right out of me. Gasping, I took stock of any possible injuries while I ignored the dust bunnies under my bed that I now had a bird's-eye view of. Of course, it would be at that moment that Nathan decided to knock on my front door.
I jumped to my feet, forgetting once again that my jeans were still around my ankles.
"Mother all fuck," I grumbled as I found myself flat on my stomach for the second time with a loud crash. My lungs had just forgiven me for my last fall, and now seized up again, making me gasp for breath like a drowning victim. Halfway between berating myself for my complete dipshitedness and wishing my floor was at least carpeted in a situation like this, I heard my front door open.
"Ashton, are you okay?" Nathan's worried voice called out.
I was in hell. For the briefest of moments, I actually contemplated trying to slide under my bed to hide.
"I'm fine," I answered, using the little bit of breath I had managed to recoup. I frantically tried to shimmy my jeans up over my legs although my prone position wasn't helping much.
"I thought someone was attacking you," the last voice I wanted to hear at the moment said from my bedroom doorway.
I was wrong before. This was hell. "That someone would be my jeans." My answer came out muddled thanks to my predicament as heat filled my cheeks.
"Are you okay?" he asked, obviously concerned to see my panty-covered ass face up while I tried in vain to hide my face in the wood flooring.
"By okay, if you mean 'would I like to die at the moment?' That would be a resounding yes," my voice came out muffled due to the wood flooring against my face.
"Would you like my help?" he asked. Now that he knew I hadn't suffered some stroke or cracked my head wide open, he was completely amused.
"No, I think I can handle this," I said sarcastically, flipping over onto my back so I could hike up my jeans. It was only after I was in the middle of flipping over that I realized my sweater had hiked up to my neck, exposing my bra-covered chest.
"I kind of thought we would work up to this, but hey, I'm all in," he joked, leaning against the doorjamb.
"Seriously, God must hate me," I mumbled, abandoning my jeans so I could pull down my sweater. "I'll be out in a minute," I said, trying to salvage the smallest bit of dignity I had left.
"Are you sure? I have no problem assisting you," he said, winking at me.
"Out," I demanded, trying to ignore the heat that flowed through me from his wink. It was unfair that even in mortification his wink had the power to seduce me.
He chuckled, pulling my bedroom door closed behind him and leaving me alone in my misery.