Just One Look
Copyright© 2025 by DB86
Chapter 17
The sun was already warming the pavement when I pulled into the park where my crew was halfway through trimming hedges and planting new flowerbeds along the walking path. I stepped out of the truck, still riding the high from last night.
My legs ached from the gym and the dancing, but I couldn’t stop grinning.
I had kissed Rachel.
Not a peck, a real, honest-to-God, soft-lips, heart-thumping, future-altering kiss.
Not just once, but many, many times.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Marisa asked, appearing beside me with a clipboard and coffee in hand.
She was dressed in jeans and a Green Haven T-shirt, clearly planning to supervise while sipping her brew.
“No reason,” I said, still smiling.
“Uh-huh. The way you’re standing there like you just won the lottery? It’s a girl thing.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I walked toward one of the new beds we were installing—low shrubs in a neat crescent, just the way the town wanted them. My guys were doing a great job. It looked clean. Professional. Controlled.
Everything my emotions were not.
Marisa followed me. “Pete. Spill it.”
“We kissed,” I muttered, checking the spacing between the boxwoods like it mattered.
“What was that?”
“We kissed,” I said again, louder. “Last night. Rachel came over for dinner. And we kissed.”
Marisa let out a high-pitched, delighted squeak. “Finally!”
“Please don’t draw attention to it. The guys are already looking.”
“Whatever. I’m celebrating.”
I crouched down to inspect the irrigation line, mostly to avoid eye contact. “It was good. I mean ... it was great. And terrifying.”
“Terrifying? How?”
I wiped my hands on my jeans and stood back up. “Because I think I’m falling for her, and I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Marisa nodded, thoughtfully. “Falling for someone can be terrifying. Did you talk more about you being jealous?”
“Yeah. She didn’t get mad. She actually opened up about why she sometimes enjoys the attention. It made sense, but ... I’m still trying to figure out how to feel about it.”
Marisa handed me the clipboard. “Look, everyone brings baggage. And if she’s being honest about hers, that’s a good sign. You’re not dating some perfect fantasy, Pete. You’re dating Rachel—a real person with her own crap. You have your own backpack to carry.”
“Yeah. I get that. And I liked that she was honest about it.”
“Then stop second-guessing everything. You’ve come a long way, and she sees that. More importantly, you see it.”
I glanced around at the crew— the were guys trimming bushes, raking mulch, and hauling bags of soil.
“This is the weirdest pep talk I’ve ever gotten while watching someone dig a hole.”
Marisa smirked. “And yet, still effective.”
We walked a bit farther down the path, passing a newly installed bench and some fresh Pacific rhododendron. The smell of soil and bark mulch filled the air.
“So,” she added casually, “are you going to kiss her again?”
“Absolutely.”
She gave me a proud look. “That’s my cousin.”
“And maybe,” I said, adjusting the sprinkler timers, “next time it won’t feel like jumping out of a plane without a parachute.”
She laughed. “No, Pete. That’s exactly what it’s supposed to feel like.”
There were more people than the usual crowd at the gym—each client fitter and more muscled than the next. I recognized some of the faces, and even though a few of them smiled at me, I had the distinct feeling they were looking right through me.
I was the least muscled person there. Everyone wore tight-fitting muscle shirts, and I had to admit—they wore them well. After a week of feeling good, of thinking I’d made real progress, standing there among all these super-fit people made me feel like the old me again.
Several posters lined the gym walls, advertising an event called The Middletown Run in bold, eye-catching letters.
“Pete!” Rachel called, raising her arm to catch my attention. She weaved her way toward me, pausing to smile and say hello to four different guys along the way.
As I watched her, surrounded by all those male specimens, my old insecurities came clawing to the surface. I found myself staring at Rachel, trying to make sense of what I was feeling. My ego wanted to crawl into a dark corner and lick its wounds.
If I didn’t get a handle on this, I was going to lose Rachel, just because of my own lack of confidence.
“Hey, everyone seems excited about this,” she said, pointing at one of the posters. “What’s The Middletown Run?”
“It’s a race around Middletown. The route goes out to the lake and loops back to Main Square. Supposedly, it’s very scenic, or so I’ve heard. As you can imagine, I’ve never participated,” I said, a little curt.
“Pete, what’s wrong?” she asked, placing a hand on my arm.
“Nothing,” I lied, glancing around the room. “There are more people than usual. I don’t love crowds.”
“Yeah, me neither. Bella said a lot of folks are coming into town for the Apple Blossom Festival and staying for the Run.”
I nodded slowly. The festival was one of the biggest events in Middletown. There were dances, food vendors, carnival rides, and craft fairs.
“Pete, are you really okay?”
“No,” I blurted, before I could stop myself.
My self-pity was winning.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.