My sister and I had just transferred our college credits to Weber State College and settled into an apartment up Ogden canyon. Sis was still dating a long-haired, rock-n-roll, jerk back in Salt Lake, and she was mooning over their separation. I say jerk because, well, I couldn’t stand him and didn’t like how he treated her.
It was the first day of our American Literature class and in walked this tall, broad-shouldered blond in jeans, a blue work shirt, and cowboy boots. I fell instantly in love with his sky-blue eyes, mustache, and strong work hands. I could tell he was a farm boy and the perfect guy for me.
He walked over and sat down…next to my sister. He started up a conversation with her, but she didn't give him a second glance. Unfortunately, my tongue was on the floor. To say that his interest in her didn’t bother me was like saying a cocklebur under a saddle didn’t bother a horse.
He asked for her phone number, and she gave it to him. I about fell out of my chair. After class, I asked her why she had given it to him and if she was really interested in Morgan.
“Not really, but I didn’t want to be rude,” she said.
The days drug by. I stared at and drooled over him, and he stared at and drooled over Sis. He faithfully called her every night. She would signal me to answer and tell him she couldn’t talk. I used the time as an opportunity to try to sway his interest. All he did was ask me more questions about Sis. I wanted to beat myself in the head with the phone for being so stupid, but you know how young love is.
I started dropping comments about her that weren’t exactly true. I felt horrible and at the same time aggravated that it didn’t seem to have any impact on Morgan. It was the cruelest of situations. I wanted to throttle Sis for treating Morgan so poorly and still seeing the jerk. I wanted to club Morgan over the head for not noticing my interest in him. Especially hard were the nights the jerk came to Ogden and took Sis out.
“Make something up,” she said. “Tell Morgan I’m at the library.”
“Why don’t you just tell him you aren’t interested?” I asked.
She shrugged, and I let out a growl in my throat.
“What?" I said. "You need someone to fall back on if it doesn’t work out with the jerk?”
“I don’t want to hurt Morgan’s feelings,” she answered.
My jaw ached from clenching my teeth. She didn’t deserve Morgan’s attention. Tons of ideas flipped through my mind on how to sabotage my own sister. The green-eyed monster consumed me.
What am I thinking? How low can I be?
“Morgan,” I said when he called that night. “My sister won’t be here tonight. She’s studying at the library with a classmate.”
“This late at night?”
“Well then, can I see you?”
My heart soared. “Me?” I bit my lip and held my breath. Had he finally realized I was the woman for him?
“I can be there in thirty minutes,” he said.
“Yes, of course,” I said, planning a quick shower, refreshing my makeup, and slipping on my sexiest, sequin sweater.
Twenty-seven minutes later, the doorbell rang. My heart melted at the sight of Morgan and the scent of his cologne. He entered, rubbing his hands nervously together. “Hi. Is she still gone?”
“Yes, would you like a drink?”
“I guess.” He headed for the dining room table and pulled out a chair.
I was hoping for a little couch time but maybe later. I mixed orange juice with 7-Up and poured it over ice. I set a glass in front of him and took a sip of mine.
“So I’m getting the idea that your sister doesn’t like me,” he began. “I mean, I really like her, but it’s like she’s avoiding me.”
“Well, she takes her grades seriously. Do you want to move to the couch?”
“I just don’t understand. Is she playing games with me?” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Let’s not talk about her.”
“She’s so pretty.”
My fists clenched, my nostrils flared. “So what’s your opinion of The Oxbow Incident we’re reading?”
He bolted from his chair and paced the room. “You’ve got to tell me what I can do to make her like me.”
I’m not having any luck with that concept myself. “Why don’t we go out on the balcony and relax.” I took his strong, muscled arm and headed in that direction.
He pulled away. “Can I use your bathroom?” he asked.
I sighed and hit my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Through there,” I said, pointing.
Seconds later, the bathroom door banged open and Morgan stormed into the living room, his eyes wild. “I’m out of here.” He marched to the door.
“What’s wrong?” I said, chasing after him.
“I see what’s going on here.”
“What are you talking about?”
He jerked open the door. “You’re those kind of girls.”
“What are you saying?”
“I'm saying goodbye.” He slammed the door on his way out.
I rubbed my temples and sauntered out onto the balcony. My love had definitely been misplaced. The guy was a nut. You’re those kind of girls? What on earth was he talking about? I watched Morgan race out of the parking lot below like he was leaving a plague behind.
I was still perplexed several hours later when Sis arrived home. I told her what had happened with Morgan, and she was as stymied as me. We both walked into the bathroom and looked around. We spotted it at the same time: a can of Barbasol shaving cream and a razor.
Seriously? He thought we had a guy living with us in our apartment? Sis was perturbed when Morgan confirmed that that was exactly what he thought. She wanted no more to do with him. In fact, she told him off and his interest in her waned. Unfortunately, it didn't transfer to me.
As for me, I kinda thought it was sweet that he had no idea women shaved their legs and underarms. But what difference did it make what I thought? I was the invisible woman.
Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet Romance, Humor, Suspense...and Dogs!
Fly into a good book at: http://www.dragonflyromance.com
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