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Tricks(19)

By:Cambria Hebert


Today my quiet time was intruded upon.

Not by thoughts of my work meeting tonight.

Not by memories of my time in bed with Max this morning.

I was intruded upon by a feeling. A creepy feeling of being watched. This wasn’t like that overused feeling from books and movies. This wasn’t the hair rising on the back of my neck, the stop and look behind you to see nothing at all feeling.

It was an awareness. The kind of awareness that felt like a cold wind brushing over your skin. A pit of dread that settled in your gut and left you waiting. Waiting for something bad to happen.

I didn’t bother to look behind me. Like I said, no one would be there. For all I knew, this was just another side effect from the other night.

Was it possible to have PTSD from attempted kidnapping? That seemed rather dramatic and I was not a dramatic type of person.

I was sensible. I was smart.

I stopped walking and hailed a cab.

I rode the rest of the way home in silence. But it was not quiet.

My mind was filled with more thoughts than usual. Like someone poured everything in my brain and shook it up. Usually my brain was like a filing cabinet. Neat and orderly. I thought of Max and his lips. I thought about the talking points I came up with for dinner. I thought about what I should wear to dinner. I thought of Max and the way he looked in that leather jacket last night. I thought about that creepy feeling I had and wondered if it was safe to go into my apartment and be alone.

By the time I pulled up to the building, paid the driver, and trudged inside I didn’t really care if there was an army of angry bears in my home. I was pissed, frustrated, and mildly frightened. If anyone was waiting upstairs for me, I would clobber them with my briefcase and call the cops.

I knew Max wouldn’t be home—it was still too early—but I anticipated seeing him again. I wondered if he would give me that fluttery feeling inside. I wondered if he would touch me… and what the effect of that touch would be.

I barely noticed the little note stuck to the front door as I unlocked it and let myself inside.

It was white and yellow with the words “first attempt” circled on the side. I rolled my eyes and snatched it off the door before I shut it and threw the lock.

“Mom,” I groaned out loud. “How many times have I told you to send me stuff at work?”

I might as well just stop telling her; she wasn’t going to listen. She didn’t understand the amount of hours I worked. The fact that I was never home when the UPS guy came by with deliveries and then had to trek to the UPS store to claim my package was something she would never grasp.

I giggled on my way to the bedroom. She probably did it on purpose. It was her own way of making me leave work early at least once in a while to get to the post office before they closed.

“Well played, Mom,” I said to no one. “Well played.”

I jammed the UPS claim ticket in my purse and tossed it on the bed. I didn’t feel like showering again today so instead, I changed into a black pencil skirt and jacket and reapplied my makeup so it looked fresh. The bun I styled my hair in was still in place so I didn’t bother to restyle it.

I looked professional. I looked like a woman to be taken seriously.

I pulled out my notes to go over before the meeting. Knowing general personal details and such always helped close a deal because it showed that the firm did their homework and was thorough.

The whole time I read, my eyes would stray to the front door. I kept wondering about Max, about what time he would be home tonight.

I wanted to see him again. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was different about Max, something had changed. Not only that, but there was a tension between us that I never felt before. When we were together, the air in the room seemed hotter, seemed to crackle.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Was he angry at me?

Had I done something wrong without realizing it? Was Max thinking of ending our relationship?

That would explain his gruff demeanor, his delayed replies when I asked him a question. And when he did speak, he was sometimes so vague that it was like I was having a conversation with someone else completely. Max had never been vague. He was straight to the point. He hated wasting time on details that didn’t matter.

And the way he kissed me this morning…

His lips seared me to my very core. He’d never kissed me like that before.

Even on a Saturday.

Maybe it wasn’t desire I’d been feeling. Maybe the heat, that spark, was anger.

Maybe there was someone else. Maybe Max had fallen madly in love with another woman and just didn’t know how to tell me.

I packed up my notes and smoothed out my clothes. My stomach felt queasy. Yeah, Max and I never had a great romance or epic courtship. Neither of us had time for dates, lazy days, or weekend trips. This wasn’t a movie. This was real life and we both had lofty career goals. We both knew what we wanted.