KICK IT | JENLISA

11

Jennie

Cold dribbled over my wrist. My water bottle overflowed, coating my knuckles. As I juggled it closed, my bag strap fell off my shoulder and lodged into my elbow. The corner of my soggy notebook gouged my armpit.

Fuck, could I have been any more of a hot mess?

"Need a hand?" Her elbow propped on the wall, a warm smile curling up the corners of her mouth. The reasons I wasn't supposed to find her attractive flexed inches from me. My eyes fluttered to blink away. Was I wearing an 'all douchebags welcome, no waiting line' sign?

For a woman, I was quite tall, and toned. Next to Lisa, I was small and dwarfed in all dimensions. My fitted yoga clothes made me naked and exposed, and the hairs on my forearms stood up. Drawing a breath was pointless because her deodorant's fresh smell dizzied my brain. My quicker heartbeat echoed a southern pulse between my legs, followed by a trickling sensation. That'd better be ass sweat. I recoiled, stepping back for some much-needed airspace. "Not the one you licked."

My confirmation elicited 'oh shit' reactions in both of us. Her wide eyes mirrored mine. We stood taller and gaped at each other.

"Listen." Meaty and raised with veins, one hand raked through her hair. Fuck, why did those look lickable? A flicker of sheepishness rounded her eyes. "In the parking lot, I didn't know who..."

"I know who you are." My eyes narrowed at the crook that bumped her nose. Petty as fuck yes, but the tiny imperfection helped me focus. Up close, Lisa inspired all kinds of stick figure deaths, starting with medieval torture devices. It didn't matter who I was; rude was rude.

Two hands palmed the wall around me. Lisa was either a candidate for Houston's most clueless award or had an 'I don't like you' kink because she assumed I wanted her muscles invading my personal space. I lifted my soggy notebook between us, and a few drops trailed down my forearms.

Her eyes tracked the flash of blue. "Still want that autograph?" The corners of her lips curved higher, denting her cheeks.

For the second time, my sarcastic response lodged in my throat. Coherent thoughts? Poof. Lisa leaning over, with her lips approaching my right ear, didn't help. Mine parted in a silent gasp, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

A long, thick index finger mushed my lips, tingling them with sensitivity. Teasing chuckles followed. "Don't scream." She leaned closer, her warm breath tickling the side of my neck. The heat she wrapped around each word wiped my mind blank. "Trying to keep a low profile, Miss..."

Her fading voice smacked me with the obvious. And it wasn't the way my lips trembled under her touch. I... she... still didn't know me. A choked sound strangled in my throat, and I yanked my head back. Full brain fart mode engaged, my mouth hung open, and my tonsils dried. Only my eyes moved in one dumbfounded blink after another. Where the fuck was my voice, and why did she keep taking it? Speechless wasn't me. A dull edge on my razor vocabulary wasn't me.

Lisa pulled back and dragged another bear-sized hand through her hair. "Sorry. I'm here for Jennie's class. Can you point me in the right direction?"

How about the front door and over a cliff? The amount of effort required to not express that thought deserved an award. Familiar faces passing us, including into my studio, held me back. The anonymity of her ignorance offered an unexpected yet welcomed relief, and I glared at her outstretched hand. "No. I can't help you."

Confusion flickered in her eyes, faltering her smile, and her hand slacked to her side. Clenched corners of her mouth hinted that my rejection dented her egotistical exterior. Success.

Given so many curious eyes, no further words quelled the insult vomit building in me. I spun on my heel and squeak-stomped to the women's bathroom. Lisa spoke with Diana, her eyes beaming and her hand lingering on Lisa's forearm. She paused, occupying most of the doorway of my studio, my space of peace, relaxation, and inner balance.

Lisa coupled her triumphant smirk at me with a wink. No. No, no, no, no, no.

The bathroom door banged behind me. I cupped my hands with water and splashed my hot face. Rage burned in my eyes. My cheeks were red and blotchy in a cross between a crappy driver's license picture and a serial killer. My teeth dented my lower lip until it split with pain.

I was too nice. No, I was a yoga mat that her big, and smelly feet stomped on.

For once, I hesitated to attend my class, and I hated that. Allowing one moron the absolute power to affect my mood was an insult, leading to an angry projection at the image of her tall, and muscular frame occupying my studio space.

With a sigh, I steadied my shoulders. If Lisa behaved like a normal humble person tonight, maybe, I could put today behind me.

A familiar, low groan rang out from one of the stalls and shifted my brain into defensive mode. A wicked smile reflected.

Or, I could give her a class that she'd never return to again.