Free Consenting Adults by J. Lea López Page B

lot.
    He’d only met studious, serious women in his other writing classes
and workshops. Nothing wrong with them, except they sometimes took themselves too seriously. The sorority girls and Elementary Ed girls had the spunk and verve
he liked. Like Aubrey. But there were too few women who embodied exactly the
right balance of determination and playfulness he was looking for. Charlotte
Greenbrier—the pretty girl with the chip on her shoulder—just might be
different.
    “You’re staring,” Deb scolded.
    “That’s what she said.” He fingered the strap of his
messenger bag on the ground next to him. Part of him wanted to get up and go
after her. Another part feared the look of contempt he might encounter if he
did.
    “Well, go on,” Deb said. “If you go now you can still catch
her.”
    His grin probably extended past his ears. “Thanks. I’ll see
you next week.”
    He slung his bag over his shoulder and started off at a jog
toward Charlotte, now a small dot nearing the parking lot. The bag thumped
against his thigh and his flip-flops proved undesirable gear for chasing women,
slapping against his heels and threatening to stay behind in the grass with
each step.
    Even though she’d barely give him the time of day, he was
mesmerized by her for some reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Maybe it was her
shy silence that intrigued him. Part of him was afraid that he was intrigued by
her only because she refused to play along when he tried to flirt. Stubborn. He
liked that.
    “Charlotte, hey!”
    She slowed down, looked back at him over her shoulder, but
didn’t stop. Of course she would make me chase her .He continued
jogging until he fell in step beside her.
    “Hey,” he gulped down a breath of humid air.  “I was
wondering if you wanted to get lunch tomorrow, talk about some writing. Or not.
We could talk about other things.” She doesn’t want to talk about your mediocre
poetry, genius. He hadn't stumbled over his words like that since he was
fifteen.
    “Oh, I can’t. I’m working a mid-shift tomorrow. But tell Deb
we can do it another time.”
    He laughed, but Charlotte didn’t even miss a step.
    He placed his hand gently on her forearm. She slowed,
stopped, turned to face him.
    “I guess I didn’t go about that so well. I wanted to
know if you …”
    Charlotte’s hand flew to her mouth, but did little to
camouflage the deep blush that flooded her cheeks.
    “Oh God, I’m an idiot!” She let out a little laugh.
    “No, no. Not at all. I should’ve been more clear.” He hoped
his smile was reassuring. “When are you done working? Maybe we could make it a
late dinner. Or dessert?” He liked to think of the possibilities of dessert.
    She stepped back. “Seriously?”
    Her shift from embarrassment to disbelief was startlingly
seamless.
    His turn for nervous laughter.
    “You know,” he thrust his hands into his pockets. “I’m a
pretty confident guy, but you’re making me doubt that a little bit.”
    She started toward the parking lot again, walking briskly.
    “I’m just surprised, that’s all. Kinda caught me off guard.”
    He quickened his pace, trying to keep up. He waited for what
seemed like ten minutes for her to say something else. She knew how to make him
sweat.
    He could see her blue Honda more clearly with each step; the
concrete was hard beneath his thinly-soled flip-flops.
    “Charlotte?”
    She dug her keys out of the bottom of her bag. “You’re
asking me out?” She glanced at him sideways, her eyes warm, but distant.
    He wasn’t sure if she was questioning his sincerity, or his
own high opinion of himself. He decided it must be his sincerity that was under
scrutiny.
    “It’s not that hard to believe, is it? Deb only has
good things to say about you, and I guess I started to believe her.” That
wasn't entirely true. Deb had been almost as vague as Charlotte herself. They
stopped in front of Charlotte’s car. “Even if you are trying to shoot me down.”
    “I