When I arrived home she was out front, trying to do something to hold back a flood of water springing up from near her front hose-bib. I sprinted across the street, and was able finally to do a chivalrous deed for her. Ahhh! A knight in shining armor—saved her from the fierce dragon of a broken water line by braving the spurting flood and deftly turning the main ball-cock 90 degrees. Although her cotton blouse and jeans were drenched through to saturation, she was so relieved that she for a moment forgot herself and hugged me close. My face must have communicated the wrong message. I intended for it to say, “Wow! I love this. Never stop. Please!” what my face must have said was “Is there a looser woman on the planet? We only just said hello this morning and already you are rubbing your boobs on me and trying to get me to bed you.” Fortunately (see the first sentence in this paragraph) the disconnection between my emotions and my brain resolved themselves to just the facts (Now we’re. She stood up and felt a little unsteady on her feet, no surprise given the heels she was wearing, and attempted to pace up and down the living room. Soon, she curled up on the hardwood floor and fell asleep. Ryan threw the empty ice cream tub away, washed the glass and spoon and then made his way over to Gemma. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bed. Gemma wasn’t sure what woke her up- the steady throb of her headache or the dress that was squeezing the life out her. Sunlight flooded the room and she rolled over to face the other way. She tossed and turned for a moment but didn’t want to disturb Ryan who was still asleep on the other side of the bed. She slipped out of bed and into the bathroom, almost tripping over the heels she had been wearing the night before. As she looked at her reflection she laughed, and then cursed herself for getting so upset over a guy who just wasn’t worth it. Then she found a way to get out of her dress, and stood there examining.
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