John stared mindlessly at the bottle of beer as he rotated it around in his hand, until William slid into the booth across from him. "Well?" his friend asked.
John raised his eyebrows as if he didn't know what William meant.
"Amy? Hiking? Photos? How'd it go?"
John shook his head, trying to form an answer. "I don't know," he said in frustration. "It started out great. I mean really great. We had a fantastic time and Amy was warm, flirty, and a lot of fun. We hiked and I took photos and then we had lunch out there before heading back."
"And?"
"I don't know what happened. I don't know what I did or said that turned her off, but at some point during the drive back, her demeanor completely changed. She got quiet and... I don't know. She was really flirty and passionate on the trail."
William's eyebrows shot up and John dropped the pretense of not grasping the question.
"Yes, passionate. We kissed. We kissed a lot and it was amazing. You know, she really warmed up to me, but maybe she has an aversion to the city. Once we got close to home I could feel the temperature in the car drop and a pall settled over us. There was a palpable tension, not a good tension."
"What happened when you got back to her place?"
"Imagine this stroke of luck: I pulled up to her apartment right as a car pulled out and I snagged a parking spot, right on her doorstep. I wanted to walk her up to the door."
"And get invited in?"
"Yeah, maybe. But I wasn't counting on that. She had mentioned needing to grade a bunch of papers, but I thought I'd be able to take my time saying goodbye, kiss her some more, and make plans to get together again, but she acted extremely jittery and nervous, didn't want to kiss me, and then I got the Heisman Trophy." John held out a stiff arm, demonstrating the "Back off!" gesture.
"An aversion to public displays of affection perhaps?"
"But she had been a fireball all morning. We kissed in front of people at the summit, even in the restaurant. Besides, there was more to it than just not wanting to kiss at the door; she couldn't get away from me fast enough."
"Hmm. Do you think she might have been nervous that you'd want to come in?"
"Yeah, that could be, but her reaction was pretty extreme. I didn't ask to come up and... it just seemed so hot and cold, like two different people."
"Have you talked to her since?"
"No. No, I haven't. I'm not sure what to do. I guess I'll edit her photos and use that as an excuse to talk to her, but I don't know. I can't read her at all."
"Do you want me to see if Tracy knows what happened? Maybe they talked."
"No, don't involve Tracy. I don't want to hear from you two how I blew it, if I did. Besides, I'm not a moron about women. We really hit it off and were enjoying each other's company. I'm certain she liked kissing me, and from what I can tell I didn't say anything offensive at lunch. I think I'm just going to ask her what's up."
* * * * *
Amy checked her phone for the third time since leaving work, but still nothing. Her heart sank. No text or call from John since their hike and the more time elapsed, the more it was confirmed that she blew it. She allowed herself to really feel something for someone special, then panicked at the chance of intimacy.
Will I ever bring myself to close the final gap?
All the work she had done in therapy with Anne built up to the false impression that she was healed. Instead, Sunday demonstrated just how damaged she still was. Not only had she panicked, she knew she must have come across as a hot-and-cold freak, or a tease, or... she didn't even want to think any more about the possible impressions she had left John with.
She knew what she needed to do, even though she hated it: she needed to explain her actions. It wouldn't change things, but she couldn't stand the thought of being called a tease again. She'd rather acknowledge being screwed up in the head, than to be branded a tease. She called and left a message on his voicemail asking him to call back. Then she laced up her shoes and headed out the door hoping for a mind-clearing run.
The brisk weather and crowded streets were both a deterrent, but still preferable over the gym. The path along the Hudson was the closest place to run where she wouldn't be bothered by traffic lights. She had to run through twelve stoplights just to get there, running in place while waiting for lights to turn. It wasn't until she reached the running path and found a good groove that her mind began to process what she might say to him, provided he even wanted to talk. Anne suggested just laying out the whole mess before him. If nothing else, Anne said, it would be good practice, but Amy wanted to wait and see how he reacted. She'd take her cues from his response.
Her legs were achey from the Underwear Run and the hike, and the soreness a welcome distraction. It felt good to run when she could feel her tight muscles loosening up with warmth. She stepped up her pace, and felt the strength in her legs, as she asserted dominion over her body to make up for the powerlessness she felt in her mind.
