Free Beauty And The Bookworm by Nick Pageant

my good eye and then shove a forkful of food into my mouth.
    When we finished eating, Twyla cleared the table and I sat nursing my beer. I tried scowling at her when she sat back down, but it hurt my eye too much.
    Twyla gave one last snort and then decided to try and make nice. “Shane’s worth a black eye? He must really be something.”
    I stayed cool. “He’s not anything… yet.”
    “But you’d like him to be?”
    She had me. “Yeah, I think so. I mean, I’m still in the lust stage, but he just seems… good. I don’t know how to put it any other way. He seems good .”
    “Good enough to become a boxer for?”
    “I’m not becoming a boxer for him. I’m just covering my tracks. You can’t start a relationship with a lie.”
    Twyla was obviously physically willing her eyes not to roll. “ So why’d you lie in the first place? You should have just told him you don’t work out.”
    My one good eye did roll. “It’s not a lie anymore. I am a boxer, sort of. I want him to like me. If I have to make a few adjustments to myself to make that happen, I will.”
    Twyla shook her head. “This is not going to end well.”

Chapter 8
    Run Run Away
    Shane and I talked on the phone every night. They were long talks and I felt I was getting to know him pretty well. The more I learned, the more I liked. The calls were just a wee bit annoying for Twyla. She eventually told me that if I was going to lie on “our” bed talking to another man I could just take my skinny ass to the couch. I happily moved to the couch and sat in the dark, listening to Shane’s voice and beginning the long fall into gaga.
    The thing about Shane (besides the beautiful face and rocking body) that I loved was the fact that he just wasn’t complicated. He was so calm and laid-back. Not much seemed to ruffle him and he seemed happy with his place in the world. I wondered how he’d made it from the over-achieving kid to the cool customer he was as an adult. When I finally asked him about it he explained it by saying, “I went to a good therapist. She taught me a very valuable lesson. Keeping control is a constant battle that you will never, ever win. I start each day by saying ‘I surrender.’”
    By Saturday, Shane’s ankle was healed enough that he was ready for a “test run.” He invited me along and I told him how much I loved running. Technically a lie, I know, but I hadn’t run in so long that maybe I loved it without knowing. There was only one way to find out.
    We met at Laurelhurst. Shane was wearing his hunter-green shorts. I was a little disappointed because I’d been hoping for lycra, but I comforted myself with the knowledge that his big, beefy ass was being cradled by that wonderful object of fetishism: the jockstrap. I bought new running shorts and shoes. I’d done my best to scuff the shoes as much as possible on the way to the park. I wanted them to look worn because, you know, I’m a liar.
    Shane’s mouth fell open when he saw me. He still hadn’t seen my eye. “Holy shit! Did you get that boxing?”
    “Yeah, I let my guard down for a sec. It happens,” I said with nonchalance.
    Shane studied me for a minute, then cracked a shy smile. “Don’t think I’m awful, but it’s kind of sexy.”
    See, Gran and Twyla, was that so hard? Not “Were you assaulted?” but “It’s kind of sexy.” “I’m glad you like it. You look like you’re good to go. How’s the ankle?”
    “Feels great. You ready?”
    “Ready.”
    We started our first lap of the park and I kept up for about thirty yards. In my defense, my shoulder’s ended where Shane’s legs began, so it wasn’t exactly a fair race. I think he was used to running ahead of everyone, because he just looked back at me once, smiled, and then ran on.
    I eventually loped past my bench. It looked so inviting, sheltered there between the lilacs. I wished more than anything for a book, but I kept running. I did a full lap of the park, seriously considering