to pick me up off the floor.
“What was that?” I try to keep my voice from shaking but can’t because I ’ m so terrified.
“A bird.” He holds back a smile.
“A bird ! No way, I don’t believe you . I t couldn’t have been a bird, it tried to kill me .” My eyes are huge as I try to show him with my hands just how big the bird was.
He tells me to follow him with his little finger and leads me back outside near the trees that line the Rec center. “Do you see that?” He asks. Nodding , my throat goes dry as I look at a tree full of black birds .
“ Somewhere in there is your bird . T hey sit around here a lot . The building is warm this time of year , so it makes sense they would invite themselves inside. You scared me back there , I thought you were getting mugged , not mauled by a sparrow .” He scowls at me then turns to walk back in the gym.
“I could have been!” I yell after him as I follow him up the stairs.
He turns to look at me, not at all concerned.
“I’m scared of birds.” Admitting this requires the last shred of pride to die, so I follow him inside with my head hanging in shame.
“I’m sorry what?” He ’ s now walking toward me with an amused smirk on his face.
“I’m afraid of birds.” I say quieter this time not daring to look him in the eye.
“Birds ,” he says plainly.
“Birds ,” I confirm.
“A ll birds or just flying birds? If you were trapped at the zoo and an ostrich came running for you , would you scream? Or how about penguins , technically they ’ re birds.” He pauses for a minute waiting for my answer.
“You’re mocking me . I shouldn’t have said anything because everything is a giant joke to you .” I turn to walk away and trip over my own feet sending me sailing into the fake tree by the benches, knocking it over . “I meant to do that.” I huff as I stroll to my treadmill and begin running.
“It’s okay ,” he says as he starts to run next to me. “I have things I’m afraid of , too.”
Slowing down , I turn so I can look at him . I ask , “Like what?”
“Hippos.” He shakes his head in disgust . “ They terrify me.” He winks and continues running as I stand there with my mouth , yet again , hanging open for flies to stroll in to.
“They ’ re quite vicious , like polar bears ,” I answer , getting my stride back. Is he trying to make me feel better? That’s surprising, and sweet . I feel myself start to smile.
“At least I’m afraid of something that actually makes sense ,” he states before hitting the up button on his treadmill.
Forget wha t I said about him being sweet. He ’ ll never be sweet , just mean . And well , a terrible excuse for a human being.
“ It makes sense if you know why !” I yell , trying to catch my breath from the sprint I am trying to overcome.
“Okay ,” he says , pushing the red button on both our machines . “ Humor me.”
The whole time running I didn’t break a sweat ; but now , when he turns to face me with his body and green eyes , I start to perspire like I ’ m running the New York City marathon! Nervous, I shuffle m y feet back and forth before preparing my story.
“When I was little— ”
“ O h this should be good ,” he interrupts.
“Hey! No interrupting . Do you want to hear the story or not?” I put my hands on my hips in frustration.
“Sorry.” He apologiz es “Please continue.”
I do everything I can to not meet his eyes, considering they make me forget to breathe and all, and decide to concentrate on the seriousness of my story.
“When I was little .” I glare at him and continue “I went to the park with my parents and went to play on the swings. I t was my favorite thing to do, b ut every time I walked near the swings , there would be hundreds of birds at the park just standing on the grass. My dad told me not to be afr aid , so I believed him. One day I walked to my swings, carefully as to not scare the birds, and a dog came out of nowhere
“What was that?” I try to keep my voice from shaking but can’t because I ’ m so terrified.
“A bird.” He holds back a smile.
“A bird ! No way, I don’t believe you . I t couldn’t have been a bird, it tried to kill me .” My eyes are huge as I try to show him with my hands just how big the bird was.
He tells me to follow him with his little finger and leads me back outside near the trees that line the Rec center. “Do you see that?” He asks. Nodding , my throat goes dry as I look at a tree full of black birds .
“ Somewhere in there is your bird . T hey sit around here a lot . The building is warm this time of year , so it makes sense they would invite themselves inside. You scared me back there , I thought you were getting mugged , not mauled by a sparrow .” He scowls at me then turns to walk back in the gym.
“I could have been!” I yell after him as I follow him up the stairs.
He turns to look at me, not at all concerned.
“I’m scared of birds.” Admitting this requires the last shred of pride to die, so I follow him inside with my head hanging in shame.
“I’m sorry what?” He ’ s now walking toward me with an amused smirk on his face.
“I’m afraid of birds.” I say quieter this time not daring to look him in the eye.
“Birds ,” he says plainly.
“Birds ,” I confirm.
“A ll birds or just flying birds? If you were trapped at the zoo and an ostrich came running for you , would you scream? Or how about penguins , technically they ’ re birds.” He pauses for a minute waiting for my answer.
“You’re mocking me . I shouldn’t have said anything because everything is a giant joke to you .” I turn to walk away and trip over my own feet sending me sailing into the fake tree by the benches, knocking it over . “I meant to do that.” I huff as I stroll to my treadmill and begin running.
“It’s okay ,” he says as he starts to run next to me. “I have things I’m afraid of , too.”
Slowing down , I turn so I can look at him . I ask , “Like what?”
“Hippos.” He shakes his head in disgust . “ They terrify me.” He winks and continues running as I stand there with my mouth , yet again , hanging open for flies to stroll in to.
“They ’ re quite vicious , like polar bears ,” I answer , getting my stride back. Is he trying to make me feel better? That’s surprising, and sweet . I feel myself start to smile.
“At least I’m afraid of something that actually makes sense ,” he states before hitting the up button on his treadmill.
Forget wha t I said about him being sweet. He ’ ll never be sweet , just mean . And well , a terrible excuse for a human being.
“ It makes sense if you know why !” I yell , trying to catch my breath from the sprint I am trying to overcome.
“Okay ,” he says , pushing the red button on both our machines . “ Humor me.”
The whole time running I didn’t break a sweat ; but now , when he turns to face me with his body and green eyes , I start to perspire like I ’ m running the New York City marathon! Nervous, I shuffle m y feet back and forth before preparing my story.
“When I was little— ”
“ O h this should be good ,” he interrupts.
“Hey! No interrupting . Do you want to hear the story or not?” I put my hands on my hips in frustration.
“Sorry.” He apologiz es “Please continue.”
I do everything I can to not meet his eyes, considering they make me forget to breathe and all, and decide to concentrate on the seriousness of my story.
“When I was little .” I glare at him and continue “I went to the park with my parents and went to play on the swings. I t was my favorite thing to do, b ut every time I walked near the swings , there would be hundreds of birds at the park just standing on the grass. My dad told me not to be afr aid , so I believed him. One day I walked to my swings, carefully as to not scare the birds, and a dog came out of nowhere
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