Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
Going for a run is not something I do regularly, but every once in a while I have bursts of energy and working out seems like a good idea. I jog enough that I don't feel like I'm dying after one minute. I can go at least five minutes before I need a break. And I'm pretty proud of that.
For some reason, I'm feeling it today. There is a bite in the air, since it is early November, but the sun is out and that is a huge plus. I dress appropriately, stuff my house key into my sock, and head out to run around my neighborhood.
I have this weird thing about gyms. I don't like them.
I guess that isn't so strange. I'm not opposed to working out, obviously, but I am opposed to all the noises you hear in a gym. I dislike all those sweaty men and women grunting and groaning while they add one more rep. I personally enjoy my workouts to be quiet. I guess I could just wear headphones and listen to music at a gym, but I'm always yanking them out of my ears by accident. It's annoying.
Running in silence suits me, I guess. Also, I can just decide to go at the drop of a hat. I'm not worried about who I might run into at a gym or how I look. I don't even have to get in my car and drive anywhere. My neighborhood is definitely not the nicest, but it is safe.
After jogging a couple minutes, I see the tennis courts coming up. These courts are probably one of the nicer things in this area. They were built about fifteen years ago, which is new for us. They are almost always occupied, which is no different this afternoon…especially because it is a Saturday.
I stop to stretch and take a breather and only seconds later I notice a fly ball coming my way from over the court's fence.
One of the guys playing is kind enough to yell, "Look out!"
The ball flies past me and bounces on the street a ways before rolling away. I start running after it, planning to throw it back to them before I continue my jog. As I head over to pick it up I notice it is a couple of feet away from rolling down into the gutter on the side of the street.
"No!" I scream as I sprint after it.
I can't lean over to pick it up in time, but I kick it away from the sewer before it drops down, never to be seen or heard of again. It rolls across the street and finally comes to rest next to the curb. I'm a little exasperated at this point. I don't know why I'm going to so much trouble for a stupid tennis ball. I'm sure those guys have plenty extra. But, I already exerted all this energy, so I might as well throw it back to them.
I pick it up, wind back my arm and throw it as hard as I can, hoping it will make it over their court fence.
Yeah, it totally doesn't.
It hits about midway up the fence, bounces off and clocks some passerby right in the forehead.
I swear under my breath, totally embarrassed as I run to apologize. As I get closer, I notice the guy I hit is seriously attractive. He's all muscles, with the fake tan and perfectly coifed hair, and I can see his bleached white teeth through his grimace of pain.
"I am so sorry!" I blurt out. "I swear I must be a part of some elaborate Three Stooges prank or something."
He looks at me in confusion. "What?"
"Nevermind," I shake my head. "Are you alright? Did it hit you really hard?" As I inspect him closer I realize he is wearing workout clothes as well, but his are way more stylish than my mismatched garb.
He literally looks like he was sponsored by Reebok to take a run around the neighborhood.
He's got Reebok tennis shoes, the pants, the shirt, the socks…He's even wearing a Reebok watch. Do they even make those?
Before he can answer my inquiry about his head, we are interrupted.
Some woman that was playing tennis frolics over and grabs onto Reebok guy. We are both suddenly distracted. Like, seriously distracted.
Not really everywhere…just in the normal place. But they are spilling out of her bra. Is it even a sports bra if they aren't strapped down? Isn't that the point?
Boobs girl is talking. "I saw what happened! That must have hurt so much." She's reaching up to touch above his eye, leaning into his body. The boobs are on him.
He's still staring down at the boobs that are now touching him. Clearly, I'm staring too because I can't stop. It is like I am waiting for an explosion to happen. I know the pressure must be too much for that strip of fabric to bear much longer.
"Are you okay?" she whispers close to his ear. Somehow Reebok guy has come out of his trance enough to wrap his arm around her tiny waist.
"Yeah, I'm good. It just surprised me." He finally glances up to her face, probably realizing how pretty she is…but no face can hold a guy's attention when you have boobs like that.
The closeness and physical intimacy I am seeing before me is confusing. Didn't they just meet?
"Oh, do you two know each other?" I ask, trying to understand. That is the only explanation.
When I look down, I see they are already holding hands, his thumb running over her palm.
She giggles like I just told the funniest joke, which is distracting to us all because she's a bouncy giggler.
"No, of course not!" She is still giggling. She turns back to Reebok guy, running her hand over his face and into his hair. "Are you sure you're alright? I think it might be bleeding."
It is totally not bleeding, by the way. I hit him with a tennis ball, not a mallet.
But Reebok guy is toast. He's past the point of no return.
"Is it? What should I do? Do I need to go to the doctor?"
Oh, he's pushing it. This flirting is insane.
More giggling. "No, silly!" She smacks his chest lightly. "You just need to clean it and put on a Band-Aid."
"I don't know if I know how. Can you help?"
Really, dude? You don't know how to clean off a non-existent cut?
"I can totally help. Do you live close by?"
"I'm just around the corner. Thirty seconds away." He's got his arm around her again and I swear they are about to make-out.
"Hopefully everything doesn't take thirty seconds," she fake sighs into the air.
"Definitely not," he answers with confidence.
They share a look and that's it. They walk away, wrapped up in each other and I'm staring at their backs totally aghast.
Ew. Just ew. Did this really just happen in front of me? I just witnessed a probable one-night stand in the making. Or I guess a one-afternoon stand?
Except I don't think they'll be standing.
I am interrupted from my stupor.
"Hey, are you alright?" Some nice guy asks behind me.
"Did you see that?" I ask without preamble.
"You hitting that guy in the face with a tennis ball?"
I turn around to face a guy who is holding a tennis racket in one hand and start spewing my thoughts about what I just witnessed. I can't stop them.
"Not that part… afterwards, when that girl came over with the boobs. They were literally hanging on for dear life trying to stay covered, because she sure wasn't helping them. And that guy was like, 'Yeah, we can have sex.'"
"He actually said that?" Tennis guy interrupts.
"I don't think he was actually capable of speech by that time. I mean he could barely carry a conversation before the boobs came, and I really didn't hit him that hard. And honestly, even I was staring. But they had a two minute conversation, where nothing of import was said, and then they decided to go back to his place. To have sex!"
"Well, good for them I guess."
"Good for them?"
"Ugh!" I am kind of disgusted by the whole scenario.
"Are you jealous or something? Do you like that guy?"
"The walking Reebok advertisement?" I clarify. He shrugs. "I don't even know him. And I would never like someone who would have sex after knowing someone for three seconds."
"Maybe it was love at first sight," Tennis Guy comments.
"Ha! Maybe it was love at first sight… with her boobs. And can we just talk about them for a second?"
"By all means," He allows.
"Look at this." I point to my chest and he looks where I've directed his eyes. I jump up and down several times. "Very little movement. What a girl really wants when she's exercising. And Boobs girl was playing tennis? Please. I bet she just picked a sport where she knew she could bend over and bounce around the whole time."
"Probably true," He agrees.
"Okay, maybe I'm overreacting. I don't know Boobs girl or Reebok guy. Maybe it was love at first sight…or maybe they just want to have sex until they can't move. Perhaps I'm just a prude, but I don't think I am. Call me old fashioned, but a guy has got to marry me before I let him put his penis inside of me."
Tennis guy cuts off any more of my ranting by laughing hysterically. He's seriously amused. I haven't heard anyone laugh this hard since high school. I'm staring at this guy laughing and then I realize I have no idea who I'm talking to. I've been complaining to him about boobs and sex and penises and I didn't even look at him properly.
This guy is towering over me and it's freaking me out how good-looking he is. So good looking that I want to dig a hole and hide in it for the next decade. I can't believe I said all of that stuff to him. I even made him watch my boobs while I was jumping!
But surprisingly, Good-Looking guy doesn't look freaked out or disgusted by my crazy-woman rant.
Good-Looking guy is very different from Reebok guy even though they are both handsome. Good-Looking guy is wearing normal guy workout clothes, some simple basketball shorts and a long sleeved gray shirt with some sort of writing on the back. He's also muscley, but not in a show-off type way. Just in a hot way. And he's got a really nice laugh. It makes me want to laugh too, even though he's laughing at me.
He's running his hand over his shiny green eyes, probably wiping away the tears from laughing this hard. That's how hard my words made him laugh. To tears.
I brought Good-Looking guy to tears!
He finally has control of himself enough to stand up straight again and he just looks at me in awe. He chuckles every once in a while and I just stand there with my hands over my face, trying not to die of embarrassment.
I just told Good-Looking guy I'm a virgin!
"You think I'm good looking?" He asks, surprised, but still in good humor.
"You're lying. I really didn't say that out loud, did I?"
He ignores that, deciding to focus on the more interesting topic of conversation. "So, let me sum up everything so far. You oppose to one-night stands, guys wearing Reebok, and you're a virgin who wants to wait to have sex until you're married. Did I miss anything?"
I don't know why I answer, but I do. "I also oppose to excessive boob exposure during workouts."
"Oh yes, of course. The boobs."
"Yes, the boobs."
"Well, I hope this isn't too forward to say, but…I like you. I was just coming over to grab the tennis ball that caused so much trouble and I am pleasantly surprised. I haven't talked to a woman who was this honest…ever. So thank you."
"Good-Looking guy, I think I should be apologizing to you. You definitely shouldn't be thanking me. But since you already did, you're welcome?"
"As much as I like my new nickname, I'd prefer it if you call me Edward. That's my actual name."
"Bella," I introduce myself. We shake hands and I can't help but notice how small mine is compared to his. Even his hands are attractive.
"So Bella, are you this honest to all the guys you meet?"
"Absolutely not! I would never leave the house if that were the case. No, you just caught me when all the factors for complete honesty somehow lined up."
"What are the factors?"
I think back to what caused all this to happen. "First there needs to be a lot of embarrassment, followed by surprise and shock, then slight disgust…and then a kind voice asking how you're doing. Somehow, all those things add up to a random girl spewing her unfiltered thoughts to a random guy."
"But surely I'm not random anymore, right? And this honesty thing is still happening."
"Well, it is too late to stop now. I can't pretend it didn't all happen now. It can't be unsaid. And the good thing about honesty…is everything I said was true!"
"That is a very astute observation," Edward smiles, totally focused on me. The more I look at him, the more I'm gawking. He is so cute and he doesn't look repulsed by me.
So I take a leap. More like a sky-dive.
"And in the interest of continuing with this honesty bit, I really do think you're good looking. Like, seriously handsome. Enough so that I'm freaking out on the inside to be standing next to you and talking to you this long. I'm attracted to your messy hair, your muscles, and your tallness. Just all of it. And you smell really good, which doesn't make sense since you were clearly playing tennis, but still true. And I'm pretty sure I'm totally freaking you out, but I don't think I can stop now. So yeah. There it is."
I finish my spiel and just look up at him to see his reaction. The next moment his hand is touching my cheek and he's bending down to my level and he kisses me.
I have been kissed many times in my life, but never so unexpectedly.
It is soft and sweet, and lasts long enough for me to know it isn't a friendly gesture. He pulls back slowly and stays close to my face. I'm breathing harder than is socially acceptable after one kiss.
He brushes a strand of my messy hair behind my ear, staring into my eyes, probably hoping to see some sort of reaction. I am too stunned and attracted to do anything other than stare back.
After a minute of silence, he whispers a question.
"Do you want to have dinner with me?"
Then I say the most honest thing I've said all day.
This will be an absolutely no angst story! This can be the ending or I can write more if there is interest. I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Have you ever hit someone in the head with a tennis ball? I sure have!